#fic: through the fire and flames | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlostseungmin · 1 month

Text

ice on whiskey ─── hwang hyunjin.

✰ pairing : assassin/hitman!hyunjin x fem!reader (she/her pronouns).

✰ genre : mafia au, nsfw+18, strangers to lovers, kinda slow burn

✰ warnings : lots of profanity, guns, violence, character deaths, kidnapping, rampage, reader almost drowned, felix got injured, mentions of drugs and other weapons, black market, crimes such as arson, murder and illegal businesses, blood, kissing, unprotected sex, oral sex (f.receiving), cunnilingus, breast play, hyunjin stroking himself (slightly mentioned)... MDNI semi-proofread. lmk if i missed one :'>

✰ word count : 25k (the longest so far)

✰ notes : wooyoung from ateez made a cameo in here lol and i’m not expecting this to get a lot of interactions but if you do read this, DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after reading so i’ll know what you think of this long-ass fic. please separate fiction from reality. inspired by — freeze and give me your tmi by skz, too sweet by hozier, a few scenes from the k-drama queen of tears, vincenzo and 365 days trilogy

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @starseungs , @sleepyleejii

masterlist | taglist

members’ characters and roles.

Hwang Hyunjin.

His name echoes as the sounds of crackling flame and a huge—thick black smoke escalate to the sky. He stood on the rooftop across from the building that was burning down as the fire trucks and cops aligned on the road beneath.

With a zippo in his hand—he closed and opened the lid, making a small flame that caused chaos. A click sound is heard after he closes the lid, shoving it inside his black coat’s pocket. A smirk is plastered on his face upon hearing his name being cursed by the family of a notoriously corrupt politician. He doesn’t need to take a glance at who it was—he already recognizes those names being listed on his murder list. Too bad, the body burned along with the building.

“Good job, Hyunjin,” He heard his boss say on his earpiece while removing the black gloves as he exited the building.

It is his job to murder whoever it is when his family gets provoked. A role that he is trained to do so.

“Get back home, we have another target,” Hyunjin stopped his car across the street as he took a few looks from the burning building. Some employees were weeping, firefighters were trying to calm the fire, the medical team was on search and the officers were investigating.

His name will never be revealed in the media. Who knows? He’s part of the Mafia.

“Fuckers,” He said under his breath driving away from the crime scene.

Arson may be one of his crimes, yet that’s not the only way to do his job. The next target is set on another date.

It was another usual night at the hotel when the sound of a gunshot was heard across the room as a body fell on the floor with a loud thud. Hyunjin stood there, a gun in his hand—eyes filled with no remorse and other emotion. He stared at the body while hiding his weapon in his belt underneath his black coat then a sigh of relaxation escaped his lips as his footsteps echoed on the marble floor—taking his way out leaving the man he just killed covered with blood.

He always didn’t understand why Chan sent him alone to negotiate when Seungmin should be the one doing this instead. But the latter is too busy to read and win cases. Hyunjin could’ve taken a signal from Seungmin after failing to negotiate with the bastard.

“Dispose of him.” He said to the two bodyguards waiting for him outside.

He continued to walk by the hall as he headed towards the elevator—pressing the ground floor’s button. The door closed slowly as he leaned back on the handle while fixing his suit through the reflection. It was a waste to wear such expensive clothing only to be assigned to kill someone. He would have screamed and cried if there was blood that managed to paint his suit, even though it wouldn’t be visible since he’s wearing all black from top to toe. Still, he treasures this kind of clothing as it is the representation of his identification.

He couldn’t say no to the boss.

Frustrated as he was, it was getting late. The elevator reached the ground floor and his phone kept ringing inside his chest pocket in his blazer. Another urgent call. He’s been getting one ever since his morning started, probably another errand to run for Chan. His footsteps echoed once again on the marble floor through the main hall of the hotel as he made his way toward the entrance where his car was waiting. It looked like nothing happened when he had the guts to act normal and conservative with his job but he got used to it.

A man bowed at him while giving him the keys as he took his phone out—answering that damn call.

“Did you kill him?” A voice from the other line asked.

“Yes,” Hyunjin answered as he opened the car’s door and sat comfortably. “I’m heading back now,”

“Okay, be quick, we have another one on the loose,” said the man on the phone. Hyunjin didn’t respond and went to drive away.

It is supposed to be a day off which he wanted to spend in his guesthouse near the beach on that one island. But damn Bang Chan and his list of names for murders, Hyunjin couldn’t even take the private jet to their island because for sure, he has a feeling that Chan has another mission for him or something urgent to make a meeting out of it.

He pushed the accelerator to full speed as he drove on the highway making it like his racing track. His engine roared, earning everyone’s attention. Some cursed the shit out of him, some were amazed by his violation of traffic laws, Hyunjin felt defeated—he didn’t even get to take a sip of whiskey while trying to negotiate with that man at the hotel. He was irritated, to begin with. Imagine your day off became a business day just because someone wants to get murdered.

It’s valid.

His hands tightened their grip on the wheel, maintaining the speed of his Mercedes Benz as it traveled through the road by the cliff where you could see the ocean and the city lights. The thought of taking some days off just to walk by the shore would be a luxury in his crucial job. He doesn’t even remember when was the last time he had a vacation and how exactly he landed on this kind of work when he was supposed to be a professional shooter as a sport. Hiring him was probably Chan’s best decision.

“You’re late,” He said.

“He had a lot to talk about,” Hyunjin reasoned, taking a seat beside Felix on the couch. All eight members of the family gathered in the main living room with Chan in the middle—slamming folders on the coffee table followed by Hyunjin’s gaze. “What are these?”

“Our next person,” Minho said, making Hyunjin sigh in response.

“Another murder for me?” He asked cocking his head.

“No,” Seungmin answered. “She’s a different case,”

“She?”

“Yes,” Felix interrupted as he took the main folder, making Hyunjin read the details. It was a profile. “Y/N Jung. She works as a publisher at Park’s Corporation. Her parents died when she was 5 and raised in an orphanage until the age of 18. Top of her class in high school and graduated Summa Cum Laude at ***** University. Mr. Park hired her a year ago and got promoted 6 months after,”

“Impressive but what’s with this person?” Hyunjin asked who seemed not interested if it was not someone for him to shoot.

“We found out that she’s the only daughter of the Godfather of the Jungs who died decades ago, they’re our family’s rival. She probably has no idea since she’s living a normal life but her relatives are after her since she’s the only heir. They wanted to kill her,” Seungmin said—now he is intrigued.

“What if the Jungs will find out that she’s with us?”

“It will provoke them of course. They still have a debt to pay after all,” Chan said, taking a sip of his whiskey. “They can’t have her that easily,”

“So,” Hyunjin paused, pointing at himself. “I’m going to kidnap her?” He was unsure about his assignment but it will probably go that way. “And where do we keep her? Here?”

“Your guesthouse,” Chan chuckled. “Take this mission as your days off from work, I will make sure no one finds you,”

“Hyung, give me a break. I’m supposed to leave for Colmar this weekend,” Hyunjin argued.

“You can’t,” Chan said firmly. “You know how your job is unpredictable so either you do this or leave?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be your assassin now, a babysitter?” Hyunjin scoffed. But he knows he doesn’t have a choice. Again.

Hyunjin finds himself inside his room after the meeting in Chan’s heavenly huge mansion at the top of a mountain that was rendered for residency. He thought about the case thoroughly this time and this is the very first mission that Chan asked him not to kill anyone. It is unusual for him of course, as he is not used to the concept he’s getting into. A lost princess that everyone is looking for. She could be Rapunzel in some sort. But anyway, this could help him rest for a while. It would make his status crumble in this family if he declined the offer.

He ran his fingers through his black long locks as he sat on his bed, taking off his blazer and loosening his tie. The gun was already placed inside the drawer and took a glass of whiskey sitting on his side table. He stared at nowhere and drowned in his deep thoughts while his back rested comfortably on the headboard along with the pillow while reading your profile and other personal documents attached to the folder.

A lot will be planned for this exhibition.

“Fuck,” He hissed, slamming the papers on his side table.

Days passed and you arrived at the party’s venue five minutes before it started. Mr. Park already requested your presence the moment you walked in. It is supposed to be a night to enjoy but little didn’t you know that you’re being watched. Being not a fan of this kind of event, you didn’t want to be here in the first place. With tons of people and the intoxicating smell of alcohol and cigarettes, there is a reason why you didn’t party when you were still a student.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips—you admit that your life sucked by then, an orphan who managed to survive the challenges in life. You raised yourself well with the use of your late parents’ insurance money, which is quite A LOT. Yet you stopped using them when you got a job. Growing up in a tough environment, not that many friends, no social life, and a pile of money made you survive like a castaway on an unknown island. Yet you were thankful for being responsible and a few guidelines from the headmistress of the orphanage who is supposed to be a mother to you but she never did, maybe once she was.

These thoughts never leave your mind. It was an experience to grow up independent. It hurts you sometimes that you grew up having no parents to call on, no house to go home to during the holidays, just you in that lonely—godforsaken apartment. You got used to it anyway.

And who are you to judge the life that the heavens gave you?

You sat by the counter after a long conversation with Mr. Park regarding his business. It was tiring to speak corporate on your day off. You should be at home watching your favorite local drama and crying with a bucket of popcorn. But hell, one of the most important people in the company should be here. Another sigh was heard from you as the bartender placed a glass of champagne on the counter, indicating it was your drink.

“Thanks,” You smiled.

The loud music, the blinding lights, the smoke, and the smell of cigarettes being mixed with the air-conditioner are choking you. It was bad—you could’ve coughed so loud until your throat dried. Champagne won’t be a lot of help either.

Hyunjin was there.

White v-neck long-sleeved polo, black blazer, black slacks, and black shoes. A handsome tall man, who smells expensive, who looks expensive, and a bit dramatic at times but the people who see him can’t deny he is so damn attractive with that suit with a few strands of wet hair styled on his face for elegance.

He walked slowly after seeing you settled by the counter wearing that black long dress with see-through sleeves. You were beautiful.

Felix followed him as Han and Changbin were on the lookout—watching some members of the Jungs trying to locate you in the venue. Hyunjin ordered a drink as he sat on the empty high chair beside you which you had to raise your glass as a form of greeting him. He just gave you a small smile and moved his chair to watch the crowd dancing instead of the bunch of drinks on display.

It’s safe to say that he caught your attention. Who wouldn’t when he’s tall, short wolf cut, a black suit with a white top within, a glass of whiskey in one hand—a face of a model, siren eyes, a great physique… he’s totally your type. It would give you a reason to stay in the party for a while. You hang your head low on the counter as Hyunjin notices you getting consumed by the alcohol while sipping on his whiskey.

“You shouldn’t drink that much,” You heard him say. Damn, he’s concerned, that thought made you blush.

“I know,” You paused between the hic. “It’s just, it’s my first time having to enjoy a drink outside,” You smiled. “I’m not a party girl, you see. I’m a home buddy,” But Hyunjin just smirked.

You didn’t leave the counter an hour later and kept on drinking the same drink. Mind you there is only 12% of alcohol in a bottle of champagne but your tolerance doesn’t give a fuck. You don’t usually get drunk easily but this time is different. That’s what they say, drink your problems away. It is not in your life mottos. A drink wouldn’t make you decide to die.

The person beside you, will. Not the one you greeted with the glass. He’s too handsome.

“Incoming to Ms. Jung’s left side, Hyunjin,” Said Han from the earpiece.

Hyunjin cleared his throat as he moved—facing the bar while turning his glass from side to side.

Being independent meant you could sense danger in one glance but you were too dizzy to identify the man beside you. Unbeknownst to your actions, your hand landed on the man who smiled at you earlier and looked at him. He was confused as to why but it is a plus that you trust him, which you shouldn’t. Maybe because he’s not provoking you or anything. You tried so hard to stay quiet and not embarrass yourself in front of your party crush.

Hyunjin was alerted as he craned his neck a bit to observe.

“Such a beautiful face,” You heard the other man from your left while tightening the grip of your hand on Hyunjin’s. The unknown man was about to caress your cheek when Hyunjin suddenly let go of the grip—spinning your chair to face him, having his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he planted a kiss on your lips. It was so sudden and unexpected yet it was good. Felix was surprised as he witnessed it behind Hyunjin.

“Dude, what the fuck?” He exclaimed.

The kiss lasted longer. His delicate plump lips were soft as it tasted like he just had a glass of whiskey now being mixed with champagne you just had. His kiss was so gentle to the point that it was so sweetーyour knees felt weak and blood rushed through your veins. Unbeknownst to the events, he pulled his gun out from his belt, aiming at the man’s forehead. His eyes were looking at him as he was kissing you.

The man raised his hands in surrender and yet he had this dirty smirk plastered on his face. Han and Changbin were already standing on both sides, hooking their arms around the person of interest. You were so captivated by his kiss that it felt like having a live makeout session in front of the barista and Felix but Hyunjin had to stop before it got deep.

“Fuck,” The man grunts.

“Don’t turn around,” Hyunjin whispered to your ear as you could feel your heart going insane and your mind blank. Did he just kiss you? Yes, what the fuck. His left arm was still around your waistーpulling you closer as if he was hugging you. But why is it that he won’t allow you to turn around when you’re a blushing mess and the urge to scream in happiness is strong?

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” The man with blonde hair spoke behind him. What?

“Are you working for the Jungs?” Hyunjin asked. You didn’t understand what these are all about and tried to get away but Hyunjin’s too strong to let you go. “Babe, don’t move,” He whispered again. I am going to ascend to heaven if he’s going to be like that for a while.

“You could say that,” The man behind you answered.

“You better pay your debt to the Wolves,” Hyunjin answered. “I’ll make sure you will never get your hands on Y/n,”

How the fuck did he know my name?

“You will never know what will happen next if you kill me, Hyunjin,” The man stated. “They will find the heiress no matter what,” And with that, Hyunjin pulled the trigger, and a loud gunshot was heard through the whole room. The body collapsed as everyone panicked while making their way out of the venue leaving you, Hyunjin, his brothers, and a group of men who were probably the dead man’s accomplices. You were also surprised, flinching at your spotーconfused about what was happening.

“Get her out of here,” Said Han. “Now.” He added before he ran upstairs to catch the assigned person to take you to the Jungs along with Changbin. Hyunjin nudged Felix before turning back to you.

“What’s happening?” You spoke in panic but at the same time, you couldn’t move.

“Look, Miss, we have to go.” He said. Little didn’t you know that the crush you’re supposed to have made your night turn unexpectedly?

“What? You’re a stranger, I can’t trust you!” You argued but Hyunjin didn’t have enough patience to talk back right now and just went to pick you up like a damsel in distress.

“Let’s go, Felix!” You heard him say as he walked out of the venue. Han and Changbin decided to stay back for a while unless they captured the spies who were watching you the whole time when you were with Mr. Park and Hyunjin. Everyone was panicking and managed to get out, even your boss who was assisted by his guards.

“Hey! Put me down!” You exclaimed trying to get down but Hyunjin didn’t even bother to listen and you were way too drunk to stand on your own. “We kissed but I don’t even know your name!”

“It’s fucking Hwang Hyunjin,” He said, making you sit on the passenger’s seat as Felix went to his car parked beside Hyunjin’s.

“Okay, Mr. Fucking Hwang Hyunjin, take me home,” You said as you heard his engine roar.

“I don’t even know where you live but you’re coming home with me,” He answered as he stepped on the gas making the car accelerate with Felix, tailing him.

“Is this kidnapping? I will sue you!” You exclaimed but Hyunjin just tried to put up with your shit. “God, I’m fucking stupid! First, I got drunk from that stupid champagne! Second, I kissed a stranger and got traumatized and third I’m letting this motherfucker take me somewhere,” You cried while holding on to your seatbelt. “I don’t even know who Fucking Hwang Hyunjin is, the fuck?!”

“Will you shut up?” Hyunjin hissed, making you whimper instead.

I’m going to die, no, I can’t die yet. I won’t allow them to kill me, I still have strays to feed, I want to get married and have kids, and I still need to meet the love of my life and grow old with them. Fuck, I’m going to die. I am being kidnapped and Mr. Fucking Hwang Hyunjin is absolutely unknown in my entire life. I am so dumb, so stupid letting my first kiss taken— You thought when you heard someone was calling.

“Hyunjin, we’re being followed,” Felix said through the call as soon as Hyunjin accepted it and took a glance at his side mirror.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin said in frustration.

“I’ll stall them, get on the freeway,” Felix said.

“No, fuck! They know that Y/n’s here,” Hyunjin answered.

“What are we going to do?” Felix asked, feeling anxious from the other line.

“Go back and get Changbin and Han,” Hyunjin said as you were listening to their conversation. The car ride is making you sicker and wants to puke, but Hyunjin’s car seems so expensive that you’re just trying to hold it in and yet it seems impossible. This is an unexpected turn of a Saturday night.

“What about you?”

“I’ll lead them astray, then,” Hyunjin said.

“Fuck, alone?” Felix reacted.

“Just go, Felix!” Felix sighed heavily as he made a sudden U-turn making the following car halt in response. You stopped crying upon listening to their conversation and when Felix left, you could see how angry Hyunjin was. “You better hold on tight,” You heard him say when you are already holding on for your dear life. Forget about the damn kiss, this man is crazy!

He’s already violating traffic laws now with his friend and fuck, what’s the worse that could happen? Getting arrested or killed after being kidnapped? And the car following us is not even the cops. Forget about the damn kiss, this man is crazy!

“What’s happening?” You asked for the second time, tightening your grip on the seatbelt.

“You’ll find out later,” He said as he made the car engine roar—speeding through an unknown road.

You could feel how unusual the speed of his car was, it was faster than a few minutes ago. Vomiting would be the worst that could happen inside right now. Not in this expensive car, not in this expensive black dress that you bought from your favorite brand, not with this hair and makeup you’ve spent hours to make yourself presentable after 5 days of being stressed.

“Can I at least know where you’re taking me?” You asked, trying not to make puking sounds. “I think I’m getting sicker at this speed,”

“Don’t you dare vomit in my car!” He exclaimed, trying to focus on the road and at the same time, glancing at his side mirror. The car is still there and Felix is nowhere to be found now. Hyunjin kept on taking turns and you’re getting sicker. In a few seconds, you won’t be able to hold it in.

“Can you slow down a bit?” You begged but there’s no way Hyunjin is doing that.

“Do you want to live or not?” Hyunjin hissed, hands tightening their grip on the wheel even more.

“I want to if you won’t kill us,” You said, almost crying again.

“I’m a skilled driver,” He argued.

“I’m not doubting you,” You answered, shaking in fear and sickness. “But I would like to apologize in advance,”

“What? Fuck—no!” Hyunjin exclaimed as he was too late. You already vomited on his mat— coughing after feeling like you were being choked. “Motherfucker! I told you not to let it out!”

“But I suddenly feel better! Don’t worry, I’ll wash your car,” You said as you leaned back on the passenger’s seat leaving Hyunjin more frustrated.

“Fuck,” He sighed as he continued driving at the same speed when suddenly a truck was heading through the go signal from the right side at full speed as well. It gave Hyunjin an idea that he made the clutch go forward as the engine roared even more, wanting to go through the stop signal.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, followed by intense screaming while covering your face with your hands as Hyunjin stayed quiet, brows knitted together, hands tightened their grip on the wheel even more—speeding through the highway and the car that was following you, crashed on the truck making a loud impact as the cars lined up got delayed to go through the traffic. Your heart was beating faster—panting, as you sweat from all the vomiting and a reckless driver beside you. Thanks to them, you are probably getting sober from the series of events. “What the fuck was that?”

“I told you I’m a skilled driver. But you have to clean my car tomorrow morning,” He said, sighing in relief as he glanced at his rearview mirror, watching the car burn as it stood still, glass shattered and crushed.

“So I’m not going home, then?” You asked, watching him with those terrified eyes.

“Do you think after what just happened I’ll let you go home? You vomited in my car, my brothers are out there trying to capture those who wanted to kill you, and I just saved your life from those bastards and that fucker at the party,” Hyunjin said, getting back on the car’s usual speed while loosening his tight grip.

“Why do they want to kill me? And how did you know me?” You asked, being confused, to begin with in addition to fear and doubt.

“Long story short, I was tasked to take you in because of your family affairs.” He answered.

“Family affairs? I’m an orphan! Nobody came for me when I was at the orphanage!” Your exclaimed, brows knitted together.

“Y/n Jung, a publisher at Park’s Corporation, the daughter of Mr. F/n Jung and Ms. M/n Kim, the Godfather. Orphaned at the age of 5, was sent to ***** University and graduated Summa Cum Laude. You have lived alone since you were 18,” He said, making your eyes widen in shock.

“Stalker much! How did you know?” You shouted, attempting to kick him. “And Godfather? What the fuck is that?”

“You are the only heir of the highest mafia leader who died years ago. Your relatives are coming to kill you so they can get your parents’ properties in all of Korea. That explains why they left you a great sum of money,” Hyunjin explained, which became too much for your sober brain to catch up and take in.

“So you’re saying that I’m part of this gangster shit?” You laughed. “Dude, I barely even know my parents and my family background, and then someone like you just appeared out of nowhere, explaining this crazy stuff,” You answered, resting on the passenger’s seat like a stubborn little child. “I want to go home,”

“You owe me and my car. My boss will kill me if I let you go,” Hyunjin argued but only sighed in response, just letting an unusual stranger earn your slight bit of trust.

He knows you have so many questions at the moment and he’s not sure he can answer everything. That is why he is taking you to Chan’s enormous mansion at the mountaintop. The streetlights became rare the moment you entered the road by the cliff, nervous about what was going to happen shortly. It was dark—you didn’t even know what to feel. Being terrified is an understatement, you have no idea what you are going into.

Hyunjin became quiet as soon as you stopped talking yet the disgusting smell aroused his irritation. He tried not to get upset with it since you were already on the premises.

“Clean yourself before we see Chan,” You heard him say as you gave him a nod. Hyunjin parked his car and walked around it to open the door for you.

“Thanks,” You said as you followed him inside.

The stories you’ve read about these kinds of families weren’t exaggerating when writers say that Mafias are filthy rich with huge mansions, expensive cars and furniture, business booming here and there, and money coming and going. Being a bookworm and a movie lover helped. Your mouth gaped at the sight of the interior. It’s probably more expensive than you. But learning the fact that you’re an heiress made a small stretch on your net worth. Of course, if it’s not a prank or whatever.

Your eyes wandered around the main living room through the hall and the stairs as Hyunjin led you inside his room. Even his room is bigger than your apartment.

“Your clothes are placed on my bed, the bathroom’s on your left. I’ll be outside,” He said as you gave him a nod but before you could take a step away from him, you felt a hand wrapped around your wrist—pulling you closer. “Don’t even bother trying to escape,”

“Even if I did, you’ll capture me eventually,” You said, rolling your eyes—unhanding yourself away by harshly removing your wrist from his large hand.

“If you don’t want to be killed of course,” He smirked as he went out of the room. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as your eyes landed on the pajamas he prepared for you.

“Is she here?” Seungmin asked the moment he saw Hyunjin standing outside his room.

“Inside,” Hyunjin answered, motioning his head to the door.

“Good,” Seungmin sighed in relief. “Felix said they’re on their way. They got the accomplices. Chan said they will be taken to the island tonight and you killed someone out there,”

“I didn’t,” Hyunjin breathed. “The rest of them were following us, I have to make sure Y/n’s safe,”

“I know,” Seungmin said. “You did well,”

Thankfully, Hyunjin’s door wasn’t soundproof. You heard their conversation when you were about to knock. The sage green pajamas were comfy as they were made of silk, your hair was wet after taking a shower and the other products you used were immaculate. They must’ve prepared for your arrival that he already has those products aligned in his bathroom.

You leaned closer to the door and knocked a few times just to make Hyunjin unlock it, making Seungmin intrigued to see you too.

It took a while as you cleaned everything, making yourself sober up. This was a lesson not to drink a lot—you don’t even like drinking. You need to be presentable at least, but the aftertaste of champagne didn’t feel good staying inside your mouth. Yet this wasn’t that important to you right now as you have questions to ask and answers to collect.

“Hi,” Seungmin beamed. “I’m Seungmin, the family lawyer, nice to meet you Y/n,” He added, reaching out his hand for a handshake. You hesitated at first, but it seems like he’s a bit friendly.

“Hi,” You said, giving him a quick smile and shaking his hand. He looks too cute to be part of this gangster family but at the same time, extremely attractive.

“Let’s go see Chan now,” Hyunjin said as he walked away first with Seungmin gesturing his hand to follow the former as he stayed behind you.

You have no idea who Chan is, and you get even more nervous that you are a few steps into meeting him. The information about your parents became unexpected because no one knew and no one even came to the orphanage to tell you anything. Not even your relatives who unfortunately don’t care about you and now want you dead. The idea led you to come with them to earn information and flee when you get the chance. Thoughts of escaping would be impossible at this point since you are being surrounded and watched. There are a lot of surveillance cameras from the gate to the mansion. It’s hard to find a blind spot.

Hyunjin and Seungmin’s footsteps echoed through the hall while yours remained quiet because of the fluffy Cinnamon Roll slippers Hyunjin gave. It was almost cute but you remembered he kissed you without permission, hypothetically let the driver of that car who followed you, get into a terrible accident and shoot a man in the same night. May they rest in peace, in hell, if they deserve it.

Your lips formed into a thin line as you walked downstairs, earning the attention of six other men—probably living in this house—especially that big, scary-looking man, sitting in the middle. You recognized Felix, and the two who were standing behind the couch he was sitting at were probably Han and Changbin. They’ve got cuts and bruises from all the trouble earlier. Damn. And the rest, you don’t know.

Everyone stood up and faced you the moment you got down, Seungmin gestured to you to sit down on a single couch to begin the meeting but you couldn’t even move. You were intimidated and yet they bowed to show respect.

What the fuck is happening?

“Please don’t be scared, take a seat,” The man in the middle spoke. You were hesitating at first but eventually gave in. It’s too dangerous to provoke someone this scary. “I know you probably have a lot of questions about all of this, but before anything else, I would like to introduce this family. I’m Bang Chan, the boss. You just met Seungmin, our lawyer, Felix is our Intel, Han and Changbin are our Capos,” Chan said, then he immediately gestured to the next person. “Jeongin, my apprentice, Minho the consigliere and Hyunjin, our assassin,”

“A-assassin?” You spoke.

You were stunned by how everyone has a role in this family and yet remained confused. Eight men with acceptable roles in the family and the one who took you away is apparently an assassin. He could’ve killed you the first time. You were deceived by that handsome face of his but who knows what job he has? A fucking assassin. It keeps repeating in your head.

“Uhm, not so nice to meet you,” You said, you mean it anyway. “I think I don’t need to say something about myself,” You added, taking a deep breath to avoid being nervous and scared. Everything feels off in the first place too.

“You don’t need to. We know who you are,” Chan said as you sighed heavily, biting your lower lip.

“Okay, why am I here?” You asked. “Hyunjin mentioned something about my late parents. Did you do a background check on me?”

“Yes, it is part of our job,” Chan answered, gesturing to Seungmin to hand you a file. “He may have mentioned you being the sole heir of the Godfather, Mr. F/n Jung,”

“That’s fucking absurd,” You retorted.

“It’s the truth,” Chan said firmly. “Your relatives have been tracking you down for years, that explains what happened and why you’re brought here. All information about you and your late parents is in there,” He added as Seungmin offered you a thick folder. Licking your lips—your hands reached for the folder and flipped a few pages.

The first one you saw was your profile, next to that were papers from the orphanage—articles about the car crash and the insurance money, your university application, land and property ownerships being signed by your parents, contracts, and other confidential documents. It took you a while to skim and scan everything. It felt surreal as if your life was written in a book—the missing heiress of a freaking wealthy family of gangsters. And now, some unknown relatives are coming after you.

“I really don’t know anything, and so what if they want to own my parents’ property, I don’t care at all,” You said, firmly.

“That is not what we do, Y/n,” Chan retorted. “Loyalty is important to our family and you have a rank in the Jungs so either they will let you live to rule for them or kill you to take everything you’re supposed to own. Your parents built that empire so you could have a normal and comfortable life but they ended up being killed in the crash many years ago. It’s a miracle that you’re even alive,”

Then it made you remember—the crash. Suddenly, a child’s voice echoed through your memory as the sounds of ambulances were all over the place. The front side of the car was crushed as you sat there crying with your head bleeding from the impact. You were taken to the hospital and later found out that your parents died before they could get them out of the car. A social worker and a lawyer came by to assess your papers and live in an orphanage. It was discussed that you can get the insurance money after you turn 18. It was enough to sustain you and yet, everything still felt bitter. Your life was never the same after that. Maybe your life got a little bit better after you moved out and lived on your own. Yet it became lonely and sad. Having a job doesn’t fix a broken heart either. Everything messes with your head.

No one from your family visited you because of the hatred. The headmistress didn’t even help you that much and the other kids were getting foster parents except you. It was tragic. You didn’t know what was wrong and longed to have a family too. Maybe Chan is right about one thing, you’re lucky to be alive but instead of living happily out of it—the sunshine turned into rain and the light switched off to dark. It was sad knowing no one came to your graduation or any parent-teacher meetings, no one would sign school documents other than your landlord. It was a fucked up life for you to thrive on.

Tears suddenly streamed down your cheeks while looking at Chan. Felix caught it immediately and passed the box of tissues. You were surprised by it that you didn’t hesitate to respond to his actions. Maybe these people are not bad after all or they’re just being polite. You wiped your tears after taking a few sheets and massaging your temples. Being sober doesn’t help to indulge such information but you are getting there. You don’t need to drink again in the future.

“You think it’s a good miracle, huh? Do you think it’s good to be alive? After everything I’ve been through?!” You exclaimed standing up from your seat but they didn’t flinch a bit, except Felix.

“This is not the place for you to be emotional,” That was a damn red flag to invalidate you.

“Y/n, calm down, take a seat,” Felix said in his most gentle voice, handing you a glass of water. “Don’t worry, it’s pure, not poisoned,” He smiled like an angel in disguise. You sit down as you take the glass and drink it, still giving that glare to Chan who has no remorse plastered on his face.

“You and Hyunjin will go to his guest house first thing in the morning. No one will be able to find you there,” Chan said.

“What?” You asked, shocked by what Chan just answered.

“We have to stay here because of the Jungs, but we’ll accompany you to the island tomorrow. Hyunjin needs his day off too,” Seungmin said.

“Yeah, he will take care of you, but don’t worry, we will make sure no one finds you so call us when you need us,” Felix interrupted.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“They owe us big time, your family is the reason why our parents died. All of us,” Chan answered, which made you caught off guard. So you’re not alone after all. “My parents were second to yours, Ms. Jung. They’re the co-founder of this empire but after being betrayed and murdered along with the entire family, the kids were forced to grow up in a secluded mansion, trained and studied—chosen to continue their legacy.” He added as he stood up from his seat and walked slowly around you.

“It was a hard life,” Felix butted in.

“Hyunjin grew up to be a shooter so I hired him as my assassin. Seungmin studied law, and he became the family’s lawyer. Minho is my advisor, Han and Changbin were trained to fight, Felix became our intelligence because of his skills and Jeongin is still learning from me. I was forced to lead an empire, Y/n, the Jungs are the rats. You’re lucky you didn’t grow up in this environment or you are already long gone,” He said as you stayed quiet. “Your family has a debt to pay and a relative to kill. It’s either you want to go out there and be killed or stay here until we settle everything with them. Your choice,”

“I don’t have a family,” You answered as you balled your fists in anger.

“We know,”

“How did you find me?” You asked.

“Felix,” Chan answered. “We have connections so when we knew you were alive, I sent Felix to spy on you,”

“Stalking is my job but legally,” Felix said with a sheepish smile plastered on his face making you sigh in response.

“I guess I have nothing to tell you about myself,” You said. “But if you’re going to keep me locked up, what about my job? My apartment? My laptop? The stray cats and dogs I’m feeding?”

“The strays were already taken to a shelter. Your apartment won’t be touched but we had to get a few things for you to use and of course, your laptop,” Seungmin answered. “We have someone to replace you for the meantime in your job. But don’t worry, Mr. Park works for Chan Hyung yet he cannot let you work for your privacy,”

“Unbelievable,” You sighed. “You mentioned that I’m supposed to inherit everything they own as what these documents have stated and yet no one told me. I don’t know anything about bullshit and my so-called relatives are after me to kill me so they can name these properties and businesses under themselves. Why do they need to dispose of me when I don’t know anything?” You asked.

“The last page is the will of your parents,” Seungmin answered. “It got notarized by my dad. Unfortunately, he passed not long ago after your parents did. The Jungs have copies of the will so to be able to take the properties, they will kill you first since you’re the first in line, second is your uncle, their temporary boss. As long as you’re alive, they won’t be able to touch it,”

“What?” You reacted. This is way too much information to take. Your brain is foggy from all of that drink and you don’t know if taking a shower would make you feel a bit sane.

“These documents belong to you now,” Seungmin said. “So please understand that we can’t let you go out there,”

“Why are you helping me?” You asked—head hang low.

“We know it’s shocking to hear all of this in one night, but you are a crucial target,” Minho said. “We used to live in harmony once,” You nodded in response.

“So your parents used to work for them?” You asked, looking at them.

“To the Godfather,” Minho nodded.

“Fuck,” You hissed washing your face with your hands with the folder laying on your lap.

“It’s already getting late, we will continue this conversation tomorrow,” Chan said out of nowhere, dismissing everyone as they left for their rooms while you remained in the living room with Hyunjin taking a seat on your right—sipping on his glass of whiskey.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” He asked.

“How could I?” You asked back. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea,”

“I didn’t say yes to this plan either. But it’s my job and the moment I took you out of that party, you became my responsibility. Call me your babysitter,” He smirked while drinking.

“Shut up,” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Go sleep in my room, you had a long night,” He said, standing up from the couch as he shoved his hands inside his slacks’ pockets.

“What about you?” You asked.

“I’ll sleep with Seungmin,” He said casually. “Let’s go,”

You couldn’t sleep a wink that night even though you had to leave first thing in the morning. It felt weird sleeping in a house full of men and laying on a king-sized bed owned by someone you just met. You admit he is handsome and all got mad driving skills and loves whiskey, which makes your heart leap. Not to mention the kiss. What a bastard. He’s not as what you thought he would be, although you are so guilty of vomiting in his car he has the very right to be upset. But the thing is, you’re being held hostage. You also have the very right to be mad. Yet at the same time, their reasons are valid to keep you here. It explains why Han and Changbin got beaten up when Felix arrived way back at the party.

The bed is comfy after all and you have a lot of information to process at once. It’s unbelievable to have this kind of life being kept a secret from you for years. Damn family affairs.

It was already morning when you were welcomed by a loud knock outside Hyunjin’s room. It made you groan in frustration as that was the reason why you woke up. You had to make your way towards the door and open it while half-asleep. Hyunjin’s face was the one that welcomed you outside causing you to be wide awake. You admit you fell in love at first last night but it didn’t last long when you knew he was taking you with him somewhere you didn’t know. And now, you’re here inside their mansion, inside his room and he is standing three feet in front of you between the door of his bedroom.

“Good morning?” You said.

“Get dressed and have breakfast downstairs, we’re leaving in 2 hours,” He said, handing you a set of clothes and a pair of shoes to wear before he left.

“Fuck,” You said under your breath and hurried to do your new routine. You packed your backpack shoving your laptop, the folder, and some of the necessities the guys had prepared for you from last night. Obviously from your apartment, how did they manage to have these?

Hyunjin went downstairs and headed to the dining room where everyone settled in. You were left out for a bit and rushed down almost an hour after Hyunjin came by. Everyone looked at you wearing that white top with a gray cardigan and white slacks. They wouldn’t deny the fact that you’re pretty and it’s their first time having a woman in the house. Chan cleared his throat making Hyunjin snap out of his thoughts after staring at you. His thoughts remained unknown but he was captured by your beauty although you are stupid. Being drunk Y/n, explained it.

“Take a seat, my dear,” You heard Chan say. Felix saw how amused Hyunjin was as he smirked, teasing the older one the moment you sat down on the empty seat beside him. “Eat,”

“You sound like an old man, Hyung,” Seungmin butted in making everyone snicker.

“Shut up Seungmin,” Chan retorted.

“Thanks,” That’s all you could say in between the conversation. What an awkward situation to be dining with them.

“Did you sleep well?” Seungmin asked, turning to you who was just sitting on the other side.

“Not really,” You answered, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“That’s normal,” He answered. “I hope you’ll get used to us being around, we can’t take being separated unless there’s an important matter,”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah, we grew up together under one roof, we’re not blood-related but we treat each other like brothers, family to specific,” You heard Han say.

“Good for you guys,” You said. “I was alone,”

“You could be family—aww!” Felix exclaimed when Hyunjin smacked him.

“Y/n’s not our family,” Hyunjin said grimly.

That made you look down and eat in silence while the rest did the same. Chan obviously didn’t care, Minho couldn’t even look at you, Changbin and Jeongin didn’t bother talking to you, Hyunjin seemed cold, and only Seungmin, Felix, and Han were a bit warm. You couldn’t blame them for feeling that way but you’re innocent with all these family dramas going around. You tried to be friendly despite the situation, but they couldn’t trust you and the same goes for how you felt.

Why on earth did the heavens give you this life?

You left the mansion an hour after having breakfast as Hyunjin was driving you somewhere. It was a different car from last night. The boys were having a convoy with 4 cars, 2 in each and 3 in the last car. You settled beside Hyunjin a few minutes ago with your things at the back of his new car. He might’ve disposed of the one he used after the little incident happened.

“Where’s your car?” You asked.

“I left it,” He said. “The caretaker will clean it for me,”

“I thought I was supposed to clean it?” You asked again.

“We don’t have time,” He said in his monotonous voice.

“I’m sorry,” You said. “Can I do something to make it up to you, at least?”

“Nothing,” He said, making you sigh.

“Okay, why did you kiss me last night?” You asked. Oh, so you’re finally making a conversation right now? No one spoke about it, not even Felix who looked disgusted when he saw it. Maybe because they were too occupied last night—it slipped away from their minds. Hyunjin also got upset about how things turned out as if he didn’t call you some pet name.

“Do you want to see that man being shot in front of you?” He asked. Well, he has a point. “And don’t act like you didn’t like it, you kissed me back,”

“Because I thought I was finally getting a life,” You argued.

“I’m not sorry about it,” He smirked. Motherfucker.

Your eyes met the scenery outside as you were drowning in your sea of thoughts. The so-called abduction, the intoxicating kiss, relocating you to an island? What kind of fate is this? But He’s right, you liked that kiss. It made your heart go insane, he kissed you like a lover who finally found the love of his life when it was supposed to be nothing but a kiss between fucking strangers and it’s making you crazy. A coincidence even. At first, it’s just crushing on a stranger who turns out to be an assassin. Stupid Y/n.

Hyunjin continued to drive but took a few glances at your gloomy face, being reflected by the car’s window.

“My guesthouse is on an island that Chan owns,” He said, earning back your attention. “One can get in or out by plane or yacht, we need to travel there by air,”

“Chan must be rich huh,”

“He’s the pillar of this empire after everyone got murdered. All the properties are named after him,”

“Ah,” You nodded.

“The island is secluded so no one except us can enter. The roads are limited so it’s hard to do car racing,” He added as you continued to nod.

“You guys decide what my fate will be,” You said. “I have no family to worry about me so I can be dragged around, besides, you got my replacement at work,”

“Are you that sad?” Hyunjin asked.

“Of course, who wouldn’t? Imagine you’re a little kid who grew up alone with no one to look up to. Then one day she lived alone to thrive for herself, got a job years later, and got abducted, witnessed a murder, and a stranger stealing a kiss all in one night for the first time she ever decided to go to a party,” You huffed. “At least you have your brothers. I don’t have one with me,”

Hyunjin shut his mouth after that.

“Look, this isn’t my plan on spending my days off. I’m supposed to be in Colmar,” he said.

“Well, I’m sorry to ruin your vacation. As if I expected to be with you in the first place when I should be sleeping in my apartment the whole day because I have work tomorrow,” You argued.

Hyunjin gave up.

After a while, everyone parked their cars by the airport as you followed Hyunjin to the private plane that was prepared for the departure. Your hair danced with the wind along with the excess of your clothes. The others followed and you’re being stuck with them again. It was awkward that you decided to sit at the back as they continued their conversation. Felix saw you alone while Hyunjin slept on the other row. A smile formed on his face and decided to take the seat beside you, hoping he’d feel welcomed.

You were just waiting to depart as your eyes fixated through the window and didn’t even notice that Felix was already there. He didn’t bother to take your attention in the meantime and just sat quietly—taking a magazine and started to read while you looked outside, not until the flight attendant announced the take-off.

“Hi,” You greeted.

“Hi! I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” He said.

“Not at all,” You smiled. “You’re probably the only one who wants to be my friend,”

“Force of habit, since I tend to gather information about you,” He answered while fidgeting his fingers. “We’re about to take off and it will take an hour to arrive so get some rest—poke me when you need anything!”

“I will,” You chuckled. He’s cute. Not long after, the private jet took off and you stared again through the window. “How long do we have to stay on the island?” You asked, not taking your eyes away from the scenery outside.

“It would depend on how long it would take for the Jungs to stop looking for you,” He answered. “All of us won’t be consistent on staying there, it’s just that Hyunjin is the best one who can protect you since he grew up being a shooter. It’s easy for him to kill someone. I mean, we all do, but he’s the best one,” He added as you finally looked at him.

“That’s cool. I thought he’s just another reckless driver racing on the road,” You answered which made Felix chuckle.

“I mean he’s a skilled driver,” Felix said, making a pause between your conversation. “The thing is, our job starting from now on is to go in and out of the island, except for Hyunjin, of course. He’ll stay with you. It’s his guesthouse anyway, and the rest of us will take off the Jungs,” He explained.

“Isn’t it dangerous though? You’re risking your life for a mere stranger like me,” You said.

“Like what Chan Hyung said, they owe us and we’re not doing this solely because of you,” Felix answered. “And once they find out that you’re with us, which is what they already know because of last night—I’m afraid that you’re not the only one on the murder list,”

“That means…”

“Me, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Han, Changbin hyung, Jeongin, Minho hyung and most especially, Chan hyung,” Felix said. “If he dies, what will happen to us? To you? And with everything that our parents have left us,” That statement made Felix look gloomy as if the sunshine hid behind the clouds to provide rain and you’re standing somewhere without a roof—letting the rainwater shower you.

“God, I’m so sorry,” You sighed trying to hold back your tears as you leaned on your seat. It makes you feel a sense of guilt even though everything is still new.

“It’s not your fault. What are you apologizing for?” Hyunjin said still not moving from his position—arms crossed on his chest, legs gapped—his head rested on his neck pillow with sunglasses on his eyes.

“Don’t mind him,” Felix excused. “He even kissed you without permission so I’m sorry about that,” He added when you just gave him a sorry smile.

“I’m not sorry about that too!” Hyunjin butted in making Felix sigh before turning in his direction.

“You’re being a jerk,” Felix scolded him as Hyunjin rolled his eyes inside those expensive glasses.

It was a new sight the moment you stepped out of the private area and headed toward the mini-airport, specifically built for this island. The family is filthy rich that you cannot even comprehend how it works. From afar, they look like a normal bunch of businessmen working together to provide a better economy for people to work but once you enter the circle and observe them, they only serve one master—the boss who is the brain of everything. They fight for the good although they use violence and crimes just to have a peaceful atmosphere. Being involved with them came to be unexpected. From a normal, innocent human being to a wanted daughter of a late criminal lord.

It is the season of summer and everything happens in the blink of an eye. The night changed too fast—not even 24 hours. That’s what everyone says, you don’t know what is going to happen in the future. All eyes darted on you and they’re all armed. Apart from the brothers, there were also guards walking along as you headed to cars prepared to head to Hyunjin’s guesthouse. It was a big island when you got an aerial view as it was separated from the outside world. You were assisted when you sat beside Hyunjin as he drove away. The island is obviously surrounded by water which would be harder to escape. They don’t need surveillance cameras anymore when you’re on the loose just to find you. No boats, and planes to be used—unless it’s urgent.

Being surrounded by water is a genius idea since it is already summer. You have the freedom to explore around and maybe read by the shore if the guesthouse wouldn’t be too far from the sea. Another convoy was set to travel heading on the limited road Hyunjin was talking about. You didn’t even expect that the guesthouse would be enormous just like Chan’s mansion on the mountaintop.

It was located a few meters from the shore—surrounded by trees and a garden with a small pavilion for afternoon tea, a swimming pool, and of course, high walls and gates.

“This is your guesthouse?” You asked. “It seems like a real house,”

“Let’s say this is a vacation house where I’m supposed to relax, away from all the chaos,” Hyunjin said.

“You even had an outdoor shooting range a moment ago,” You added.

“Chan Hyung had it built 2 years ago,” He said, parking the car as soon as it entered the guesthouse grounds. “Your things will be carried to your room so feel free to look around. Felix will attend to you in a bit,”

“Okay,” You said, letting yourself out of his car as you watched him going to Chan. They walked inside the house as Felix remained with you. The latter was smiling until his ears made you awe. He’s the only sweet one around. A total ball of sunshine.

When Chan and the rest of his brothers gathered in the main living room while discussing the terms and conditions with Hyunjin, Felix got busy touring you around like a professional tour guide yet you couldn’t help but notice the gun being displayed on his belt. Everyone has.

“Why do you always carry that?” You asked as Felix stopped explaining some things when you got distracted.

“Oh, it’s for emergencies,” He said as you walked around the guesthouse.

And while you were occupied, Chan received a distress message written on his phone. Han was alerted that accomplices from last night were already lined up in the shooting range after they were brought to the island and needed confrontation. Hyunjin stood up immediately and left the premises as he hurried to the shooting range, not far from the house. Everyone followed him which caught your attention and Felix’s.

“Emergencies like that, probably,” You heard him say.

“What’s happening?” You asked when Han came.

“Felix, Chan wants you there. Take Y/n with you,” He said and ran to catch up with the guys—leaving you confused. You followed Felix out from the gates and headed to where they were. It didn’t even take 10 minutes of the tour and now you’re standing here with them with those unfamiliar faces kneeling down in front of the brothers. You hold on to Felix while watching them. Those men have bruises, obviously after being beaten up. Their hands were cuffed and blood was dripping from their heads. If this island is only for the brothers, why would they bring them here?

“Baby, come here,” Hyunjin suddenly said, to which everyone was caught off guard. He was gesturing to you as he reached out his hand—fingers motioning you to come closer.

“Baby? What the fuck?” Seungmin said in disgust.

Your heart started to beat faster—of course, you remembered Hyunjin became your crush for a few minutes during the party, kissed you, and killed some people. Now you are not surprised if he’s going to have another shooting activity. Everyone was quiet and next to him was Chan with a gun in his hand. The others stood on the side, waiting for something to happen. This family never fails to make surprises within the first 24 hours, especially Hyunjin.

It is breathtaking to witness eight handsome brothers wearing formal attire—either black or white. Hyunjin was wearing all black, from his long-sleeved polo to his pants and belt, silver rings adorned his fingers, and a black bracelet. His ears were pierced. You didn’t even notice how good they looked on him the first time you laid your eyes on him during the party. The broad daylight caused you a thorough observation. He’s so damn attractive.

You didn’t notice you were staring at him for a while now that he turned to you—lowering his Versace sunglasses, cocking his head.

“Baby,” He called again. You placed your hand above his as he pulled you gently closer to him. “Now, look,” He added, wrapping his left arm around your waist while pulling out the gun hiding on his belt.

“What?” You asked, turning your eyes to those men.

“They are accomplices of the man who tried to assault you last night,” He said.

“Are you going to kill them too?” You asked, trembling under his touch.

“You may want to cover your ears for this, love,” He whispered as his hand covered your eyes while yours came to cover your ears.

“How did you get inside the Park’s Foundation?” Chan asked them.

“That’s none of your business,” One of them spoke when a gunshot was heard making you flinch. Hyunjin made you turn around as if he was hugging you, again. You buried your face on his chest, hugging him tightly.

One down. Three to go.

“You will never make us speak about the Jungs,” Another one said.

“I know you won’t. We don’t need anything from you,” Hyunjin said, cocking his gun before aiming it at the man’s forehead, making the man flinch in response. “I don’t like people who meddle with my business. She’s mine to take, motherfucker. Any last words? Any of you?” It seemed like Hyunjin was worked up but managed to keep his cool.

“Fuck you, Wolves!”

Hyunjin pulled the trigger as continuous loud gunshots were heard through the island. You flinched at the sound and wanted to walk away but you couldn’t move, again. The same scenario happened twice within the first 24 hours. Why would they want you here?

“Dispose of them,” Chan ordered. “Take Y/n back to the guesthouse. We’ll investigate further of this,”

“Yes Sir,”

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, turning to you while removing his sunglasses as he felt you were shaking from what just happened.

“Y-yeah,” You stuttered while holding his forearms for support.

You admit that was cool of him but who the fuck would shoot people in broad daylight?! And Chan too?! You weren’t sure about the baby call sign but it made your heart leap. It was unexpected of him to say that you’re now confused about what kind of treatment you are getting from him. It’s either he’s concerned, hot-tempered, nonchalant hot motherfucker, or what.

Hyunjin doesn’t understand how he feels about you. Maybe he felt sympathy because you had the same tragic stories to tell. You are one of his rare cases. Maybe the first when he is supposed to be out there killing someone—just like what happened a few minutes ago. Felix came to take you back to the guesthouse leaving him alone on the shooting range, watching the guards cleaning up the mess he just made. Seungmin patted his shoulder before walking away—following Chan back to the guest house. It wasn’t even 10 in the morning.

“Tsk,” And at that moment, he left.

“I hope you won’t hate us for what Hyunjin just did,” Felix said as he made you sit on your bed.

“They probably deserve it,” You said, hanging your head low.

“He does,” Felix smiled. “But hey, don’t worry, we’re doing this to protect you,”

“I know,” You smiled bitterly. “It’s just that, I wasn’t expecting that my life would change in a snap. Everything is new to me,”

“I know,” Felix answered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not, I’m scared,” You sniffed, hugging your knees closer to your chest as Felix sat in front of you.

“I apologize for making you witness everything of this,” He sighed. “We can’t do anything about it, Y/n. If anything happens to you, this rivalry will continue to grow,”

“I know,” You cried. “Hyunjin and Chan don’t need to show me. I mean, I didn’t see anything but it’s scaring me,” Felix saw you shaking at that moment and hugged you immediately trying to calm you down.

“It won’t happen again,” He added, hugging you tighter. “You should take some rest, my brothers and I are heading back to Seoul after lunch,”

“What? I thought you were staying for a few days?” You asked, looking at him.

“Can’t,” Felix smiled. “You saw what Hyunjin did right? We’ll do the same once we get back to Seoul. The Jungs are making offenses now so we better do something. Those men were brought here to be punished. Don’t worry, Hyunjin will take care of you and there are a lot of guards around. We’ll be back soon to check up on you,”

And so, they did. You hugged Felix tightly before he could get into the private jet. Such a shame that you didn’t get to spend some time with him when he’s only the one who made you feel welcome and comfortable. The others didn’t seem to grow on you at the time and left after saying goodbyes and reassured that they’d come back. Jeongin didn’t say a word to you ever since you came—even Changbin.

“They don’t like me that much, right?” You asked Hyunjin as you stood together far away from the runway.

“You can’t force someone to like a person who you just met,” Hyunjin answered with his hands in his pockets, watching the jet take off. “But Felix is already fond of you and maybe Seungmin,” He added and waited for the jet to disappear from your sight. You made sure you waved at them goodbye even if they wouldn’t be able to see that anymore and Hyunjin was assumed. “Let’s go,”

“Will you kill someone again?” You asked making Hyunjin to stop when he was about to leave.

“Not unless someone we don’t know comes in here, or a traitor,” He said as if it were nothing. Well, he’s an assassin for a reason.

“You scared me back there, and last night,” You said, making Hyunjin turn to face you.

“It is my job,” He said. “I do what I am asked to do. Don’t tell me you’re thinking that I’ll kill you too?”

“No!” You answered immediately. “Just… just don’t drag me again when you shoot someone. Even if you ask me to turn around, I don’t want to be in the actual scene,”

“I can’t promise you that,” He said. “You won’t survive alone unless you know how to use a gun to protect yourself,” And with that, he started to walk away leaving you sniffing on the verge of tears.

You stayed inside your room during the early days ever since you got here. Hyunjin only sees you during breakfast, lunch, and dinner and then you disappear. He often spends his time at the shooting range—still practicing his skills (you could hear them) or sometimes you see him taking a stroll by the shore alone, from your bedroom’s window. It felt like living with a stranger. Which it is, to begin with. You don’t talk a lot, no Hi’s and Hellos, Good mornings and Goodnights, just a single nod and silence.

How could you talk to him again when you dislike him? After all that happened and he’s being a bitch sometimes. You can’t understand him either.

Hyunjin didn’t even wonder why it felt like you were his prisoner who voluntarily locks themself inside when you’re allowed to walk around. Of course, he knew how you feel about him. One apology wouldn’t heal your trauma.

It felt lonely for him—it felt different way back to how he was living with his brothers in Seoul. But he asked for a vacation and this is it, minus the fact that he has to watch over you and you’re not amused with the situation. No WiFi, just old movies being downloaded that are on repeat, no calls and messages, except for Hyunjin, and just a bunch of books being piled in your room, some are found in the main living room. It’s like spending your summer at a summer camp where you’re supposed to reconnect with nature but the difference is, you’re always inside your room and living with a skilled assassin.

Your phone is useless, your laptop is useless, and you are helpless. Sleeping is not an option anymore. You are bored and you are fighting the urge to speak to someone. You can’t even trust the staff working around here, how come you think about Hyunjin?

It was a Friday afternoon when you decided to drag yourself out of that prison and made your way toward the gate—heading to the shore. You were wearing a canary long-sleeved polo and beige shorts as you walked barefoot with a book in your hand. Unbeknownst to your presence, Hyunjin was walking at a distance. You sat on a small bench letting the gentle sunset warm up your skin and provide the bright rays to let you read. It is just a random book that caught your attention while walking around the house this morning.

You started to read while crossing your legs, letting the wind play with your hair as you flipped the pages. Words to words, sentences to paragraphs, chapters to chapters. Hyunjin saw you at that time and just walked past by. And the same scenario keeps on happening every other afternoon until one Wednesday afternoon, he finally sat down beside you—making you startled.

“Is that book entertaining?” He asked.

“Barely,” You sighed. “There’s nothing much I can do around the house,”

“For you, but I’m happy I’m here,” He said. “A break that I need,”

“Good for you,” You sighed again. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Because I’m bored?” He asked, being unsure.

“You? Bored? Beats me,” You scoffed.

“I am,” Hyunjin answered, rolling his eyes. “You’re bored, are you?” He asked.

“Obviously,” You answered, closing the book. “I don’t spend my free time that well without an internet connection,”

“Had to cut it off so they won’t find you,” Hyunjin answered.

“I know,” You said, looking at the calm waves crashing on the shore. “Those men you shot the other day, what was their motive?”

“They work for the Jungs. The man at the party was a spy. They probably shared your profile with everyone so they’d find you easily,” He started. “They were brought here after it was revealed that they’re the rats and came to the party with him,”

“You were showing off when you killed them by the way,” You said which made him chuckle in response. “And if I didn’t know what you do, I would have sued you when I get out of here. You even called me Baby and kissed me. It made my heart leap. You shouldn’t do that,”

“Oh, I did?” He smirked. “I just don’t like my property being touched by anyone else,” It made you want to jump into the water. How could he say that just like that?

“I’m not your property,” You hissed. “I am my own person,”

“Baby, as long as you’re here, you are labeled as mine,” He said without removing that fucking attractive smirk on his face before leaving you alone and walking back to the gate. “Don’t stay out late, sweetheart,” He winked before he could even go in.

“What a jerk,” You said under your breath—being a blushing mess.

Dinner happened quietly as you sat across from each other. Only the steak knife, spoon, and fork were forced to make sounds along with the glasses being half-filled with wine. You tried to focus on your food and yet Hyunjin’s facial features made you take glances at him. It was hard not to look at him—remembering the fact that you find him attractive, that actually became the case. The crush thing wasn’t that serious—it only faded after it occurred.

Hyunjin pretended as if he didn’t notice how you looked at him and when he caught you staring, you’d look away. He smiled to himself while munching his food while your head hung low.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“I’ve seen them,” You answered, shoving a piece of steak in your mouth.

“All of them?” He asked, being amused.

“There are only a dozen,” You said. “I can watch 4-5 movies a day,”

“I guess it’s true that you’re a home buddy,” He chuckled.

“I am,” You answered. “There’s nothing for me to watch anymore,”

“A night stroll?”

“Too cold,”

“Read a book?”

“I just finished a trilogy, I’m tired,”

“Sleep?”

“Hyunjin, I don’t have anything to do the whole day, what makes you think that I won’t sleep if I’m not reading?”

Hyunjin eventually gave up.

“What do you want to do then?” He asked.

“I don’t know…” You answered, making Hyunjin sigh.

“Alright, we’ll figure out what else we can do,” Hyunjin said then it made you notice a sudden change of attitude.

“You know what scares me more?” You asked.

“What?”

“I know you murder people as a job, and that scares me, but you being hospitable and nice, scares me more,” You said, leaning onto the table and making him laugh. That’s unexpected, he’s cute. His eyes disappear as his mouth opens to laugh. He’s like a laughing weasel, but louder.

“I’m not a bad person, Y/n,” He said. “I don’t do shits without a valid reason, I kill criminals. Not civilians. If I’d been careless, I would die without a gun,” You didn’t say anything after that, but you thanked him for dinner, and just like any other night, you went back to your room.

It started raining a few moments after you got inside your room. It’s the first time you have ever experienced such a phenomenon and it’s scaring you too. It was unexpected to rain that night with thunder and lightning—they were all visible from your window, knowing that you were facing the ocean. The curtains don’t help to turn a blind eye out of it. You can’t even sleep, not even a blink. It was also cold despite your navy blue long-sleeved pajamas.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin settled in his room, finishing the bottle of wine from dinner while scrolling through his phone—the data is only limited for him and does not let you know his connection to the outside world. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

Emails kept on flooding his inbox, some came from his brothers and others were invitations to parties. There’s one of them where his presence is a must. But that doesn’t take place in two weeks. Who knows what will happen before the party? He doesn’t even know how to entertain you after all that happened during the past few days. And just like how you felt, you are strangers living under the same roof because of your family affairs.

Hyunjin sighed in defeat as he placed his phone along with his glass on the side table, preparing to sleep—not minding the roaring sounds from the sky when he heard a knock on his door. You are terrified of the storm and can barely sleep. Having the lights on doesn’t help when the loud sounds of thunder make you flinch underneath the duvet. You don’t usually feel like this when you are still living in the city but being placed into a new environment makes it hard to adjust. Especially when they sound like the shots being fired.

“Come in!” You heard Hyunjin say.

It was also a hard decision. No one in this house can be trusted and the maids and other staff were dismissed after 8 p.m. He’s the only choice. You hesitated to go in, but you heard him—he’s probably waiting and not expecting you to be there. Either way, you opened the door with a pillow in one hand as you entered his room, feeling embarrassed and awkward.

“What do you want?” He asked as you hesitated to speak up—biting your lower lip, Hyunjin saw the pillow in your left hand and landed his gaze on your face, waiting to say something. “What?” He asked.

“C-can I sleep with you?” You asked as you felt your cheeks burning. Hyunjin stares at you for a few seconds before the thought of it sinks in which makes him smirk. You realized he was wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. His collarbones were highly visible, hair disheveled for what reason? And that broad shoulders, damn—his arms made you want to experience being head locked. “I can’t sleep with the storm outside,” You added, trying not to be distracted.

“Are you checking me out?” He asked, making you shake your head violently.

“Deny it all you want. I can tell that you’re lying,” He said, cocking his head.

“Okay!” You exclaimed. “I was,” You sighed in defeat as Hyunjin scoffed.

“Come here baby,” He said, motioning his head—lifting his duvet for you to slide in.

“Don’t call me baby!” You hissed at him.

“Then, I won’t let you sleep with me,” He said, crossing his arms on his chest.

“No! Wait,” You said. “Just tonight though,”

“Just lay down,” He ordered as you slipped in under his covers—hugging your pillow with your body facing him.

His bed smells like him. That strong intoxicating perfume he had at the party and the one he had the moment you arrived here. It’s kind of soothing.

“Don’t mind me and just go to sleep,” You said but there’s no way that Hyunjin’s going to ignore you. “Good night,” You added, shutting your eyes—covering your face lightly with the pillow.

“Good night,” Hyunjin said.

He won’t be able to sleep for a while.

Morning came as the gentle sunlight peeked through Hyunjin’s window. It woke you up as you were lying a meter beside the window—fluttering your eyes open as you made a small stretch. The pillow you had last night was already lying on the floor and you found Hyunjin’s body facing you. Your hand landed on your chest, clutching it to stop your heart from racing. He looks innocent when he sleeps, like an angel—half of his face is buried in his soft pillow, like a dumpling being squished. A handsome and cute young man, with a great body, veiny arms, and a tattoo on his right arm. A wolf’s head?

The sunlight touched his skin which gave you a more detailed observation of his features. He looked so good up this close. You wondered if he ever dated anyone. It’s probably hard and dangerous, knowing his career at that.

You sat up slowly trying not to wake him up. The sunlight was directed to his face which made you lift your hand a bit higher to cover him. Your eyes didn’t leave him and continued to stare, not like a creep, but someone who is mesmerized by his ethereal beauty. His plump lips that you want to kiss—shut up Y/n. You already got to taste his lips. Fuck. His long bangs resting on his cheek down to the bridge of his nose—your fingers gently pushed the strands behind his ears. Hyunjin felt as if he was just pretending to be asleep.

“You’re beautiful,” You said softly.

“I know, right?” He said in his morning voice. Fucking deep, and hoarse. “Don’t lie when I ask you if you’re checking me out,”

“I’m not,” You denied, cheeks burning from the sight and feeling. Hyunjin opened his eyes and sat up.

“I said, don’t lie,” He answered.

“I said, I’m not,” You denied again making him look at you and leaned closer, whispering something to your ear.

“You’re a bad liar,” He said and walked straight to the bathroom leaving you dumbfounded and red. Meanwhile, he heard the door shut when he was about to take a shower. It made him smile to himself. Cute.

A few moments later, he found you eating alone at the dining table. A chicken sandwich and a glass of milk—it is a luxury. Hyunjin came in his white robe with his hair still soaked from the shower. It almost made you choke on your food—but okay.

“You’re not going out today?” You asked him.

“Good morning, Y/n,” He said, walking past you—settling down on the seat from the other side of the table.

“Good morning,” You replied with a mouth full of bread. “So are you going out or not?”

“Not this morning,” He answered, taking a bite of his food. “Why? Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I’m lonely and you’re literally the only person I talk to,” You said, taking a sip of your milk.

“I’m taking the cabin cruiser this afternoon. Want to join me?” He asked.

“You have a mini yacht?” You asked, amused at how rich this family is.

“Of course, Minho Hyung lent it to me,” He said as if it was nothing.

“Can I go? Pretty please? I’ve never been on one,” You asked again with puppy eyes and pouty lips. Hyunjin looked so done with the expression and made a side-eye. But he doesn’t want to be bitch so there he goes.

“Sure, you might die if I leave you,” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes in response.

The afternoon sunset is the most beautiful scene on this island. It is breathtaking that you never get tired of looking at it every day. You barely witness this kind of phenomenon knowing that you work like a dog during the weekdays and sleep on your days off. It’s a waste of being alive not to enjoy the life of being an actual adult.

It is indeed a nice place to spend your summer with a book in hand while in the middle of the sea and going with Hyunjin could be one of the best times you’ll ever have. You don’t know the rest and you’re not expecting anything good after that. He already hopped inside the cabin cruiser as you were assisted by one of the bodyguards. He said it will only be you and him to the sea while they wait by the shore.

The wind got stronger when you settled inside as Hyunjin was driving it. Black high-waisted shorts and a white polo top, brown sandals, and sunglasses on the crown of your head—Hyunjin thought you were cute but he didn’t need to say that. You sat down at the back, admiring the view while feeling the summer breeze. It was a delicate warmth that touched your skin as it boosted your serotonin—almost making you decide not to leave.

“Are you in for a swim?” Hyunjin asked.

“No! I can’t swim!” You answered.

“What a bummer!” He said.

“I know!”

Not after a while, you felt the boat stop in the middle of the sea as Hyunjin made his way toward the deck.

“What are you doing?” You asked, standing up from your seat—taking your small bag (which holds your sunblock and an unfinished book).

“Swimming,” He said and started unbuttoning his blue-striped polo. You had to look away before attempting to climb on deck. “Are you sure you won’t join me?”

“Hyunjin, if I knew how to swim then I would,” You answered.

“Suit yourself,” He said before jumping into the water as you climbed up—taking a seat on deck catching him rising above water while wiping his face. “The water is so nice! You’re missing out!”

“I’m fine right here!” You defended, taking the book out from your bag and started to read, not minding how long he’d take to swim the entire ocean if he wanted to.

He caught you taking glances at him as he swam around the boat while you were trying to read. The wind kept blowing your hair away as the book flipped its pages on its own. Your head hangs low as you avoid any eye contact Hyunjin would randomly give each time he rises—running his hands, brushing his hair upwards. Which is hot, especially with that body—that washboard abs being molded by the heavens—damn you Hwang Hyunjin. He never fails to make you blush.

You managed to read a chapter without getting distracted but were surprised when Hyunjin decided to get back up through the swim platform, heading to the deck. He was soaked and droplets of water from his clothes and hair were making you wet, including the pages of the book. You tsked at the sight of it as he picked up his shirt with a towel at hand before sitting down next to the empty spot beside you while drying his hair.

“You smell like seaweed,” You said. “Had enough of the ocean?”

“It was just a quick swim,” He defended.

“I read an entire chapter so it was quite a while,” You shrugged. “Thanks for asking me to join you by the way. I could’ve died in boredom back there,”

“You’re welcome,” He smiled for the first time which made your heart warm.

You didn’t know what to say after that and just let him dry his hair, not minding how he kept sprinkling seawater on you. But some things were bothering you at that very moment—his tattoo and the gang war that is currently happening. You haven’t heard from his brothers for a week now and you’re worried. Maybe Hyunjin still have connections with them but at the same time, you don’t have any contact with the outside world. You don’t know what’s going on as you sit there, watching the sunset.

Hyunjin didn’t say a word too but he kept on making noises about how bad the seawater affected the smoothness of his hair. It became frizzy after all the salt it consumed. He hasn’t changed his clothes either and is still topless. You shoved the book back into your bag, putting it away as you sighed—eyes wandering around the horizon. Such a beautiful view.

“Can I ask you something?” You started.

“Hmm?” Hyunjin hummed in response.

“What’s going to happen to me after you get rid of the Jungs?” You asked, looking at him as he stopped drying his hair.

“That would depend on you,” He answered. “We kept you heir to continue the legacy and when everyone’s gone, it’s either you give everything your parents left behind to us and forget about this, or be part of us.” He added as you sighed heavily—looking back at the horizon. “It’s a hard decision since we dropped a bomb on you but still, it’s in your hands,”

“Seems like a big responsibility, Hyunjin,” You answered.

“You have a lot of time to decide, Y/n. It doesn’t matter how long,” Hyunjin smiled.

“I wish someone told me sooner,” You sighed. “What about that tattoo on your left arm,”

“Ah, this?” He chuckled, showing you a wolf’s head as if it was howling—imprinted on his forearm. “It’s an emblem. All of my brothers have one. We identify as Wolves since we don’t share the same surnames. It’s Chan Hyung’s favorite animal,”

“Oh, so that’s why those men you killed called you Wolves?” You asked as he nodded in response. “You guys are cool,”

“You think so?” He chuckled.

“Yeah, and the other clan is simply Jungs. Basic,” You shrugged. “Did your brothers tell anything that they’re visiting?”

“Not yet, they’re busy,” Hyunjin sighed. “So it will be just you and me on this island for quite some time,”

“That’s fine. I just hope they’re okay,” You smiled before standing up to get a closer look at the water. Hyunjin followed you, peeking down below where the anchor was. Then, an idea came into his mind where he playfully tried to push you off the railings making you squeal in shock, but his arms were wrapped around your waist to pull you closer. “Hey! That’s not funny,” You scolded as he laughed in response.

“Your reaction was so cute,” He said making your cheeks heat up.

“Was it?” You chuckled in response. “I would kill you if I fell,”

“You won’t,” He said.

“Oh yeah? Try me,” You smirked as Hyunjin let you go and started chasing you around, laughing at each other when you slipped because of the excess seawater he brought after swimming and fell.

“Y/n! Fuck!” He hissed under his breath and dived in while you were trying to keep your head above water with your arms splashing and flapping around. Hyunjin caught you with one of his arms as the other one made the effort to take you to the swim platform at the back of the cabin cruiser. You were out of breath when Hyunjin took you out of the water—coughing in between. “Shit, are you okay? I’m sorry,” He said being worried as fuck. He didn’t mean to.

“I’m fine,” You coughed, taking a seat as he sighed harshly.

“I’m sorry,” He said taking an extra towel to wrap around your wet body.

“It’s fine, Hyunjin, stop it,” You said, hugging yourself. “Thanks,” Hyunjin sighed again and sat beside you—taking all the strands of hair that were covering your face. You were watching him do it, not realizing you were staring at his lips and remembered how they felt when they were on yours. It was an intoxicating one. You gulped at the thought. He was also drying your hair, slowly twisting the water out of it when his eyes caught where you were looking at.

“Y/n,” He called but you didn’t budge. You were too focused on how his lips quiver when he is worried and how they move when he speaks. “Y/n!”

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, coming back to him.

“Did the seawater clog your ears?” He chuckled. “You were staring,”

“I’m sorry,” You said as a smirk painted on his lips. You felt his hands on your cheeks as he looked into your eyes, slowly leaning closer which made you freeze on your spot—closing your eyes just in case he’d kiss you. Your heart is racing again. What is happening to you? But instead of expecting a kiss, you heard him laugh instead, making you push him away.

“Don’t tease me like that,” You sighed, not until he moved closer crashing his lips onto yours.

Your hand reached his jaw as your thumb started caressing his cheek while you felt his right arm pulling you closer to his body. The kiss was so hot and intimate that you forgot about falling from the cabin cruiser and as Hyunjin deepened the kiss with your lips molding together, and your arms were already around his neck. Your bodies were pressed together—his plump lips were soft and warm, just like the first time but without the alcohol leaving an aftertaste. Your lips parted slowly allowing his tongue to slip in as your noses brushed against each other while tilting your head to the sides. Your heart never stopped racing.

Hyunjin felt weird. It wasn’t like this during the first time. That kiss was sudden and no lingering feelings unlike what you have right now. Maybe it was how you opened up to him slowly the puppy eyes you showed this morning, or the fact that he once kissed you and that he couldn’t take you out of his mind even though he shouldn’t be feeling any emotions after that. He finds you attractive, that’s a plus—or was it the way you hugged him when you got sacred or the fact that you buried your face against his chest and hugged him while you were sleeping which you are not aware of? Or maybe that time when he woke up first and stared at you this morning and the other day when you slept in his room during the first night. It can be the way you looked at the party or how stupid you were when you got drunk, blabbering nonsense inside his car. He’s confused.

He felt his heart racing too as you hugged him tightly, not knowing how many seconds that have passed when your lips were against each other. It was filled with astonishment for the both of you but it felt more than that, not until you pulled away for some air—leaving you all red and hot. Hyunjin was left hanging as he looked away. He thought it was a good move the second time.

“I-I’m gonna go and change,” You said and was about to stand up when Hyunjin grabbed your wrist.

“You didn’t bring any clothes,” You heard him say. Stupid!

“Right,” You said, looking at his large hand, wrapped around your wrist. “Can you let go now? Dry yourself,”

“I hope that kiss won’t change anything,” He said as you stood there.

“I will,” You said.

“What?” He asked, looking up at you.

“My feelings,” You answered as Hyunjin finally stood up. “You did it the second time without warning,”

“And that’s a problem?” He asked. Bitch.

“The first one was,” You argued. “I mean…”

“You mean what, do you like me?” He asked, grabbing your shoulders for you to look at him.

“You need to try harder,” You said, locking eyes with him.

“So am I allowed to kiss you even without permission?” He asked again, brushing some strands of your hair behind your ear.

“You did them anyway,” You answered. “But I’m still not sure about how I feel about you. I’m still scared, Hyunjin,”

“Y/n, you can trust me,” He argued.

“I know that!” You sighed. “But let’s take a raincheck, shall we?”

“I can wait,” He said, letting you go, and left for the wheel to take you two back to the island.

The awkward atmosphere came back as you two became distant again. It feels the same during the first days you lived together but with the knowledge that you two are interested yet unsure about each other’s feelings. Hyunjin came back to his usual routine by being in shooting range while you stayed by the shore every afternoon to read. No words were exchanged, just glances and awkward dinners. Yet, it wasn’t long enough that another storm came that one night. This time, more terrifying. The trauma that the brothers have left you didn’t go away even if Hyunjin was able to get inside your walls and be friends with you (with a kiss as a tip).

You found yourself outside his room again, knocking on his door with a pillow in hand. Hyunjin didn’t even expect a lot of you to come here after what happened yet it seemed like the storm was getting inside your head. You couldn’t sleep—you couldn’t sleep properly ever since what happened at the cabin cruiser. It’s hard to go to sleep when your heart is racing, your cheeks burning, and having an unsure situationship with Hwang Hyunjin.

He became vulnerable ever since he saw you that evening and it became worse when you slept with him, much worse when you kissed, and now this.

He was wearing a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up onto his shoulders showing his muscular arms and black shorts. His black hair was messy and his eyes were tired from not being able to sleep during the past nights. Same reason though, but with more feelings. He forgot about himself being an assassin but a lover boy.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked as he stared at you, wearing that white long dress and barefooted.

“Yes,” You said softly, closing the door behind you.

“Lay down,” He answered, cocking his head to the empty spot beside him.

You walked slowly as you reached his bed, lifting the thick duvet—slipping inside, and laid down beside him. Hyunjin just watched you move as he stayed still on his spot—sitting on his side of the bed. The wind is cold as it enters through his window being left ajar. His room was dim and only the two lamps from each side of the bed were the ones switched on. Still, you could see his handsome features which you thought were perfectly molded by the gods. A son of Aphrodite with a great body, almost like Poseidon. His eyes fixated on you as you were looking back at him.

Nobody said a word—he wanted to, but nothing came out of his mouth. He became different. So different from the first time you met. He was a man who curses a lot and was hot-tempered, now he’s quiet and distant. This island is supposed to bring you two closer, that’s what you thought after being stuck here with him. But the thing is, the brothers brought you here to protect you—not seducing Hyunjin.

You weren’t used to it and that fucking kisses you shared were special—you thought about it a lot. It was immaculate, one of a kind. He’s a good kisser to be exact. It was out of the plan that you two should fall in love. But after days of having to deal with each other’s presence, apparently, you two grew closer. You just don’t know how to continue this relationship by ignoring the changes in the atmosphere.

“Have you dated anyone?” You asked. That was a stupid question. Really? That’s the first thing you’re going to ask him?

“Hmm, maybe when I was in college but it didn’t work out,” He said. “Nothing worked out, it’s too crucial for my job,”

“So you’ve been doing this since then?”

“Since I turned 20,” He said. “Not really long ago. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, just curious,” You answered as he laid down, covering his body with the duvet—facing you. “Were you sad?”

“No,” He said, not breaking eye contact. “There’s a lot of fish in the sea and I’m waiting for you,” He added, reaching out his hand to caress your hair.

“I gave it a thought,” You said softly while watching him. “I like you is an understatement. Everything happened so fast and I’m not sure if I’m being valid or not. You fall in love with strangers even without knowing their names, you hook up with someone you just met because you have a lot of feelings, and you’re reckless with someone you don’t know so why does it feel like you’re in a rush within two weeks of getting to know each other after you kissed?” Then Hyunjin stopped as a smile formed on his face.

“Do you want it that way?” He asked. “Rushed?” You shake your head in response.

“I want to date you, so bad,” You told him. “I’ve been lonely for a very long time and spending time with you made it bearable. I’m not used to having someone around and I’m not sure how to handle these feelings. I don’t care if you kill people for a job, you make me feel important even if it’s part of your job too,” You added as he watched your lips quiver as if you were confessing under the influence of alcohol. “I’m a newbie in everything, I don’t know how to have fun. I hope you don’t find me weird, I am stupid I know that but I’m thankful that you managed to put up with my shit the first time we met. I used to think you’re a jerk but you ended up being a different person to me and yet you’re still that Hyunjin I had a crush on that night of the party,” Then, his smile grew bigger as he started feeling giddy about it. He leaned closer to kiss your forehead which lasted for a few seconds as he pulled you closer to his body—hugging you tight.

“Let’s not rush, baby,” He said as you buried your face on his neck. “But things will work out for us, I promise,” He added, kissing your temple.

“You won’t let yourself be in danger because of me, right?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’m here to protect you, okay? Nothing will happen as long as I’m with you,” He reassured which made you a bit emotional.

Getting attached to him in a short period is between a mistake and a good choice. Letting your guard down was easy but having to think about the consequences of this situation, you will either cry or suffer. No positive outcomes.

“Just… don’t die,” You said, making him laugh in response.

“I won’t,” He said as he gave you a peck on the lips. “I will kill them first,” It tugged a smile on your face.

Who knew that someone you once thought a jerk and a murderer became dear and precious to your heart?

Ever since that night, you and Hyunjin grew closer than ever. You’d take a stroll by the shore before sunset and throw stones—the person who gets to throw the shortest distance gets to be flicked on the forehead. He would hold your hand—interlocking your fingers together as you swing them back and forth while taking a stroll by the shore on a sunny afternoon. Kicking sand, building sandcastles, or just talking with wine and whiskey for a picnic as you watch the sunset together.

Sometimes he’d join you reading under the shade of a large tree in the garden where he lays his head on your lap as you read. There were also times when he would trash his space a meter away just to paint you while you were reading—or if you two got bored, he’d invite you to the shooting range trying to teach you how to use a pistol.

“Focus on the target!” He’d say as you were standing meters away from the shooting target. “If you manage to shoot the red spot over there, then you’re almost like me,”

It was fun—dangerous even. You were unsure about the idea but Hyunjin was persistent to teach you. He offered earmuffs and ballistic glasses for you to use. Your hands were shaking as the bullets hit the spots far from the red spot he’s been talking about.

“Not that, Y/n,” He sighed. Hyunjin already taught you how to disassemble and assemble the pistol, and also elaborated on the parts, how many bullets to fit in, and how to reload. Now you’re here as he stood behind you—arms aligned with yours as he held your hands to take them into the right position. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he instructed you what to do and you tried not to get distracted by it. “Focus, love,”

“I will if you’re not breathing on my neck,” You said.

“You’ll get more than me just breathing on your neck when you do a good job,” He answered. “Now look at the target and shoot,” Then suddenly, continuous sounds of shots being fired were heard through the island. Even the birds flew away from the trees in disruption. His lessons lasted for days until you were able to shoot the red spot in the middle. A kiss would do as a reward.

You’ve spent your days without the thought of what was actually going on. You forgot why you were sent here and being with Hyunjin felt like you’re finally having a life out of work. You didn’t mind watching the movies being piled on the coffee table all over again as the two of you would cuddle on the couch, laughing and crying from the same plot. I’d take you until 4 am and fall asleep in each other’s arms. He didn’t mind them at all—in fact, he enjoys his time being with you—which he is, in the first place.

Kisses were given at random times.

A peck on the lips when you wake up and before going to sleep—you two sleep together in his room now. He’d kiss your forehead when you fall asleep while watching a movie as he caresses your hair—staring at you as if you’re the most precious treasure in his life. Long kisses when you sit on his lap while you are talking about how your life was crazy as he’d stare at your lips moving nonstop—a hand on your waist as he tackled you down, hovering above you as he presses his lips onto yours, feeling his hot breath and tasting the recent drink he had. Bodies pressed together with your hand around his nape—his tongue pressed on your slightly parted lips leaving ticklish licks making you giggle in between, hearts racing and adrenaline rush.

It came naturally.

“Let’s not rush,” That’s what he said. It was crystal clear but you are acting like a couple during the early phase of a relationship. But that didn’t matter to you anymore. It felt rushed, that’s the point but who cares? After letting your guard down, it’s hard to stand up again. Hyunjin got you wrapped up around his fingers. One small argument would lead to a kiss and make-up afterward. That’s one idea of how you easily give up.

“Love,” He called as you both lay on his bed on a Thursday night.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response as your head placed on his chest, listening to his calm heartbeat while his arms wrapped around your back.

“I got invited to a party,” He answered—kissing the crown of your head.

“You’re leaving?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him.

“Yes but you’re coming with me,” He said, leaving a peck on your lips. “You know I can’t leave you here alone. We’re going home to the mansion,”

“When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning,” He said.

“That’s so soon,” You answered. “Are we coming back here?”

“Depends,” He chuckled. “We can spend the night in your apartment after the party. I’ll make sure no one will know,” He added, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Okay,” You said, giving him a peck on the lips. A small smile formed on his lips as he locked eyes with you with his fingers tracing your bottom lip in an attempt for a kiss.

Your faces lean closer as your lips meet—feeling your noses brushed against each other. Hearts racing once again and blood rushes through your veins. Hyunjin made you lay down flat on your back, meeting his soft mattress covered in beige-colored bed sheets fresh from the laundry. Your heads tilted on different sides as he hovered above you once again, with a hand on your cheek—deepening the kiss. His lips tangled with yours, feeling each other’s hot breaths sending electric shocks all over your body. His kiss felt different from the other ones you’ve had. It seemed hungry and desperate.

Your eyes closed, bodies pressing together then a soft sound was heard from you when you felt his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses and biting your skin gently.

“What are you doing?” You asked as his kisses traveled down to your collarbones yet you could not still make eye contact with him.

“Shh,” You heard him say before his lips met yours again to shut you up. You felt his fingers slip inside your shirt, tracing your bare skin—slipping them inside your heart-printed pajamas to your black laced panties while never leaving your lips alone. It sent butterflies in your stomach and it became worse when you felt his fingers rubbing against your wetness. “I didn’t do anything that much yet and you’re already this wet?”

It was awkward, you that but how can you blame yourself?

Hyunjin pulled away as he yanked off his tank top, revealing his physique—giving you a closer look. His legs were parted as your hips lay between them. You could feel your cheeks burning at the sight which he finds cute. His lips met yours again, slowly lifting your shirt which you willingly let him. You started breathing faster against his lips when he started removing your pajamas, only leaving you with the black undergarments.

He started sucking and biting your lips as he went back on tracing his fingers from your chest, traveling down inside your panties, feeling your wetness. You let out a soft sound as a reaction to his touch. His long fingers touching your slit are already leaving your mind blank. You are confused and don’t know what to feel. You’ve read about this a lot but never get the chance on having to apply it to yourself. His lips never left yours as you let him take your panties off, not a long moment after because he was annoyed with the feeling of the fabric—limiting his actions.

He parted your legs as you exhaled when you felt his kisses travel on your inner thighs—it drove you crazy when his tongue reached your wet pussy licking and kissing it emphatically. Arching your back as a response, the sounds you make are like music to his ears. It felt so good and hot at the same time. His eyes were watching your reactions as your mouth gapped when started eating you out. Your hands traced his bedsheets, crumpling them for you to hold on tightly.

“God, you’re so wet,” He said as his fingers were dugged into your bare skin, leaving nail marks—slowly pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh!” You breathed out, feeling his tongue inside your walls—your heart was pounding above rate as he never stopped pushing in and out. He felt your hand grabbing his hair making him go deeper with his tongue. It was a weird feeling as your toes curled at the sensation and you loved it. Hyunjin noticed you’re taking it well and he didn’t stop sooner.

One of his hands slipped inside your bra, squeezing your breast against the thick fabric. It fits his hand well. His lips kissed your dripping cunt as he went up to your stomach until he reached your neck, biting down lightly—sucking it, trying to find your sweet spot. You felt his hands on your back, unhooking your bra and getting rid of it on the floor. He was amused with your body, it was perfect. It fits perfectly for him.

“You don’t just have a pretty face, but this body too,” He said in between his kisses on your neck, leaving marks as he heard you moan. His growing bulge is pressing against your hips through his sweatpants. You were panting heavily when he found your sweet spot, causing you to curse him which let out a soft chuckle before taking your lips again. Your nipples hardened when his fingers accidentally brushed them after unhooking your bra—you whimpered softly when he pinched them, slowly pulling your sensitive buds just to tease you out of it.

“Fuck,” You hissed under your breath.

He couldn’t take it anymore. His dick is throbbing inside his pants, upon seeing you fully naked. Hyunjin pulled away as he shoved his sweatpants down on his knees and pulled your hips closer to his. Your face turned red upon seeing his hardened dick up close—you licked your lips biting it before seeing the smirk being plastered on his face.

“Do you want me to continue?” He asked.

“Please,” You pleaded.

Feeling the adrenaline rush, Hyunjin rubbed his cock against your cunt—feeling the friction. Your back met his soft mattress again as he slowly slipped his length inside you, hissing when he realized he was the first one to touch you.

“Fuck,” It hurts, now he knows what to do. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he started to thrust himself inside out as gently as he could yet it caused your eyes to roll back—making sinful sounds. You gasped at the feeling as you were breathing faster. He brought his lips to your nipples as his tongue swirled around the buds before sucking them making you moan in response. “Oh, God,”

He suddenly moved a bit faster which made you go insane. The continuous lustful sounds you make urge him to change his pace. Your legs spread wide indulging the pain and pleasure between them as tears started forming in your eyes—nails dugged into his bare back making red marks visible. Hyunjin growled in response as he went faster making you cry. His lips met yours again, devouring them like no other man could.

Hyunjin sweats easily, making his bangs soaked from all the movements he did. His lips became hotter and plump than before. It’s intoxicating as you could taste your wetness in his mouth with your tongues tangled. He had to turn you around as you were on your knees with your face buried in the pillows—screaming his name feeling high when he started fucking you from behind. Hands tied on your back as your skin slapped against each other. One hand around your neck as the other one locks your wrists together. You are being railed for the first time.

The bed was creaking and he never stopped. He loves it as you were taking his cock so well that it drives him crazy. Your screams were all over the place as you moaned his name repeatedly cursing along with it. But not long after, he started to feel his orgasm coming so close that he had to pull himself out—stroking himself before spilling them out on your back. You lay on your back again realizing his sheets were already wet. It sent butterflies in his stomach seeing you fucked up as you pant in exhaustion.

“Are you good?” He asked, planting a soft kiss on your lips as you nodded in response.

“Just tired,” You smiled.

“Did it hurt?” He asked again, making you red as a cherry.

“It did,” You sighed. “Did you do this before?”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin chuckled. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He said, kissing your forehead before lifting you as he made his way to the bathroom.

“Love?” It was Hyunjin’s voice that woke you up after a deep slumber. The fact that you got tired from what happened last night made you fall asleep in his arms quickly. Sadly, you didn’t want to get up and stay in bed the whole day but for sure he’s going to drag you out any time now.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response—fluttering your eyes open.

“Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour,” He said softly as he caressed your cheek. His body was blocking the sunlight that entered through the window as he sat down on your side of the bed. It was a sweet good morning—the way you kissed his palm for a response while closing your eyes, Hyunjin’s heart fluttered inside. “I’ll have your breakfast ready, okay?” He added, kissing your forehead.

“Okay,” You smiled.

“Okay,” He answered—leaving the room, and closing the door behind him.

You let out a heavy sigh and got up to do your morning routine then it led you to some thoughts. Doing things like what couples usually do and yet Hyunjin and you didn’t put any labels until now. You love him, that’s a fact. This is probably because of the things he does—maybe his job or whatever. It is hard to commit and he thought that maybe having a blooming relationship without any labels yet, could be considered as a reassurance that he will pursue you.

Like what you said, like is an understatement. It doesn’t sort everything in place. Like is not enough and flings are just trash.

You found yourself again at the mansion. Felix welcomed you with a tight hug and Seungmin plastered a smile on his face while wearing those glasses on the bridge of his nose which you didn’t notice before. Chan was waiting in his office and Hyunjin left you there with them. Felix had a lot to talk about when he brought you to the main living room. There were no changes for almost 3 weeks that you were gone. The same Seoul City where you grew up but the life you once had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Hyunjin sat in front of Chan’s desk as Seungmin placed a pile of papers in front of him. Minho on the other hand placed a small envelope on the top of it. Those were signs—signs that he had to go on a mission again and the party that he was invited to is one. They were discussing something important inside as Felix tried to entertain you. It feels good to have him around, you missed him too even if you just talked for less than 24 hours when you left. You also wondered why they didn’t come to visit you on the island.

“So, how did your break go?” He asked. It wasn’t a break, for sure. It was called hiding and falling in love with his brother.

“It was fine. I got a little bored but Hyunjin and I got along,” You answered.

“I’m happy to know!” He beamed. “Ah, there’s a party tomorrow night. Hyunjin is invited,”

“He mentioned it,” You answered.

“It will be an ambush for sure,” Felix said. “That’s why we’re going too, unidentified,”

“Felix,” You called. “My parents didn’t do something illegal when they were alive, right?”

“As far as I know, they knew about the money laundering and corruption circling the city. Even illegal businesses such as human trafficking, exploiting endangered animals, and sponsoring people who use illegal substances. There are big names involved so they were tracking them down, unfortunately, your relatives support these crimes and turned their backs on the organization. They also knew about property ownership and businesses your parents ran to help big companies provide jobs, sponsor children’s education, and donate to schools and other institutions. But you know how this economy works right? There are big names on the list who put the money in their pockets and invest them in the black market,” He explained. “The Jungs wanted to take our properties away so they can make more money out of it and they’re planning to flee the country once you’re dead and take the money with them. Then these businesses and land ownership will be handed down to their right hands and just wait for a large sum of money to be delivered to their bank accounts,”

“That’s worse, huh,” You sighed in defeat.

“You have so much to learn once we get rid of them. You will inherit everything,” He said.

“That’s a big responsibility, Felix,”

“I know,” Felix answered. “But we’re here to help. Seungmin can make them yours one order away, he’s going to be your lawyer once everything is done, and Minho Hyung, your adviser. That’s what we do in this family,”

That’s what we do in this family.

That’s all the reassurance you need. Maybe Hyunjin, taking you here the night of the party isn’t bad after all.

Meanwhile, at Chan’s office, the rest of the brothers have gathered.

“There will be an ambush waiting for you,” Minho said as he sat down on the empty chair beside Hyunjin.

“Felix got the list of names for the party the other day,” Chan added. “Those documents have their profiles along with the list,”

“And the Jungs will be there?” Hyunjin asked.

“We are expecting them,” Seungmin said.

“Now, what do we do for this type of occasion, Jeongin?” Chan asked the youngest.

“Ms. Jung’s uncle will be there and the rest of his family. He got a few men to join him at the party. Some will be undercover so the rest of us will come unidentified,” Jeongin answered. “Ms. Jung will be our bait, so you need to bring her as your plus one,”

“Good, and?” Chan asked.

“We’re going to wait if Mr. Jung will take the bait. He will recognize his niece for sure. You just need to be alert, Hyunjin hyung,” Jeongin said. “Changbin hyung got the blueprint of the venue for the event, there will be surveillance cameras everywhere, however, there are a few blind spots so we can enter the venue without getting caught. We just need to blend in, afterward,”

“The party is tomorrow night so we still have time to prepare,” Changbin said. “Our target is Mr. Jung,”

“What about his men, the wife, and the kids?” Hyunjin asked, rubbing his chin.

“Terminate them all, the wife and kids will be sent to another country, and they will be banned from entering Korea,” Han added. “Seungmin already prepared the documents to file a case against them,”

“Okay,” Hyunjin exhaled.

“Seungmin, tell Felix to bring Y/n here,”

“Yes Sir,”

The night fell as you were studying the documents Seungmin gave you inside Hyunjin’s room. Felix and he were there to explain everything and help you identify who’s who, their crimes, their work, who they work for, and what type of business they run underground. It was A LOT and it’s dizzying.

It’s okay, you graduated top of your class and with flying colors, this is nothing more than your thesis and practicals.

Hyunjin was nowhere to be found at that moment and you were just listening to Seungmin and Felix talk. It distracted you for hours until they left, late at night. Hyunjin suddenly appeared before midnight. He entered the room with a large box and a translucent garment bag with his black suit in it.

“Where have you been?” You asked, standing up from the bed—approaching him.

“Shopping,” He said, throwing his suit on his bed as he handed the large box to you.

“You didn’t invite me,” You pout, making him leave a peck on your lips.

“Chan said you were busy,” He smiled. “That’s for you, open it,”

“Really?” It was a silver mermaid floral spaghetti strap long dress. Your mouth gaps upon seeing it as it looks more expensive than the dress you wore at the first party. It was silky as it shone when the light touched the fabric. “It’s so pretty,”

“Ah, I know, I have the best eyes,” He said proudly. “I knew you would like it,”

“I do!” You exclaimed. “How did you know my size?”

“I read your profile, remember? I didn’t forget,” He answered as you kissed him.

“Thank you,” You said as he stood there frozen on his spot making him a blushing mess.

“You’re welcome,” He was flustered, yes and you find it cute because he is.

Fast forward an hour before the party, the brothers waited for you to come down by the main living room. They were all wearing suits, all black as usual and you were nervous about how they would react when they saw you like this. Surprisingly, you did well in taking care of your hair and make-up. It’s always been like this so you study them yourself. Hyunjin was excited and the rest were anticipating—taking a deep breath, you reached the top of the stairs, slowly walking down on each step because of those damn heels.

Han was the first one to notice you and stood up making everyone do the same. Chan thought it wasn’t bad, Changbin and Minho thought you were good while Jeongin was surprisingly stunned by your beauty. Hyunjin was about to go crazy leaving Seungmin and Felix noticed something, most especially Felix, he’s an intel for a reason and Seungmin can sense a special connection.

“You look beautiful, Y/n,” Han said.

“Thank you,” You smiled at him, feeling flustered as Hyunjin took your hand, kissing the back of it.

“Charming as always,” He said.

“Save you flirting on a later date Hwang,” Seungmin scolded.

“Yeah, also, try to keep it inside your pants for the whole evening,” Felix laughed, making Hyunjin glare at them.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

“We know something happened on that island but we won’t ask,” Seungmin shrugged as your lips formed into a thin line out of embarrassment. How did these guys know? Ah, yes, the guards.

“Let’s go,” Chan said out of nowhere as they all obliged to take their way out. “Hyunjin, you know what to do,”

“Yes, Sir,” Hyunjin bowed as he assisted you to his car.

“What is it?” You asked, taking a seat as he locked your seatbelt.

“Nothing, just enjoy the party—alright?” He smiled, leaving a peck on your lips as he started driving. “You’re aware that your uncle would be there right?”

“Yes,” You answered.

“Whatever happens, I want you to leave immediately. Jeongin will take you somewhere safe but as long as the party goes on, stick with me the whole time unless I tell you otherwise, alright?” He instructed as you nodded in response. “Good,”

You and Hyunjin entered the venue while Chan and the rest of the Wolves parked a block away. It was to avoid being noticed by the Jungs as they used a secret passageway. The blueprint Felix had was helpful enough to find blindspots around the area, guns being loaded—hidden behind their blazer as they patiently waited to be used.

Minho was right, there was an ambush waiting for Hyunjin and your uncle saw you with him unbeknownst about the bait. His eyes were checking the place discreetly as the other Wolves scattered around the area—exchanging voice messages to their earpiece and mics. Felix walked past behind your uncle upstairs as he was on standby looking at his precious niece and Hyunjin.

“Target locked, he’s by the railings watching Hyunjin and Y/n,” Felix whispered to his mic.

“Copy that,” Jeongin answered as he was standing by the counter. “Two men are here, they have tattoos with Jung’s emblem, Snakes,”

“I got four men here by the pool,” Changbin answered.

“Stay close,” Chan said, walking on a blind spot, cocking his pistol secretly as he observed Mr. Jung’s wife and two kids.

“Hyung, I think we’re outnumbered,” Han said, walking by a group of guards who were obviously from the rival gang.

“Fuck,” Minho hissed from the other side.

“Hyunjin stay alert,” Seungmin said, taking a glass of whiskey beside Jeongin.

“Copy,” Hyunjin answered, before turning into you. “Do you want to drink, Love?”

“No,” You said, immediately refusing. “Remember the first time we met? I vomited in your car and it smells so bad,” You added, making Hyunjin chuckle in response.

“Okay, okay,” He said. “I’ll get something for me on the counter, alright,” He added before leaning closer to whisper something. “You know what to do,” You just hummed in response as Hyunjin left you in the middle of the dance floor, Mr. Jung signaled one of his men to come closer and whispered something before going downstairs.

Felix stood behind them and heard the conversation, immediately sending a distress message to everyone.

“Incoming to Ms. Jung,” Felix said. “He’s approaching the bait,”

“Jeongin, stand close to Y/n,” Hyunjin said, cocking his head at the youngest as Jeongin immediately left.

The moon is shining bright in the sky along with the luminous stars twinkling like sparkles. You stood in the middle of the dancefloor aware of Jeongin’s presence. The party is like a ball where the people who were invited are filthy rich—Hyunjin was invited because he donates money to fashion institutions and charity events. The host used to be a family friend but Hyunjin only came here for the sake of Mr. Jung’s undeserving life.

The ball is glamorous indeed—it is the theme of the party, and the lights are dim as they rely on the moonlight and lanterns surrounding the dancefloor. It was packed. Most of these people are unknown to you and the only target you should focus on is your uncle. But then, he was out of sight.

“Ah, cousin!” A stranger’s voice was heard as he came in your direction. You tilt your head upon seeing the person who became familiar after reading about the family members of the Jungs.

Wooyoung.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked.

“Felix, I thought Mr. Jung was going to take the bait! Not his son!” Han half-yelled to his mic.

“I’m following him as we speak, he’s going to the basement,” Felix whispered in an attempt to follow the target without being noticed. “Send me Changbin hyung,”

That came unexpectedly—Wooyoung has a big smile on his face right now while clapping his hands in amusement with two bodyguards behind him. Jeongin was alerted.

“Hyunjin hyung, Wooyoung is here,” He said.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin hissed, leaving his whiskey unattended by the counter leaving Jisung on the lookout. “Tell Y/n to go,”

Changbin left his spot and went to follow Felix. The old man is becoming more suspicious.

“You think it’s a trap?” Seungmin said from the other line.

“They don’t know Y/n’s coming,” Chan answered. “Tell her to leave! Jeongin, take her away, and Hyunjin stall Wooyoung for a bit,”

“Noona, we have to go,” You heard Jeongin say, which caught Wooyoung's attention.

“Oh, you’re with one of the Wolves? I thought the only Wolf invited was Hyunjin,” He asked, being curious when he read all the names invited for the party.

“Noona we really need to go,” Jeongin said again. It wasn’t even 10 minutes ever since you arrived and now you’re being asked to leave.

“Maybe some other time,” You told Wooyoung as you were about to leave with Jeongin but he was persistent.

“Hey, we have a lot to catch up on,” He said but only it would take a second to steal one of Jeongin’s guns from his belt, cocking it before turning around to point it at Wooyoung’s forehead. His bodyguards immediately took their weapons pointing at you, making Jeongin raise his hands in surrender. Wooyoung wasn’t amused but it was unexpected.

“Leave her alone,” Hyunjin suddenly came out of nowhere pointing his pistol at Wooyoung from behind.

“Hey, hey put those guns down! I just want to talk,” He said.

“Where’s your father?” You asked, still not moving from your spot. Jeongin couldn’t do anything but stand still, whispering something on his mic.

Meanwhile, Felix and Changbin were following Mr. Jung—it was out of plan that he’d be down here when he was supposed to take the bait. Not Wooyoung. Chan, Minho, and Seungmin came to join the party while Han started to look for Felix and Changbin discreetly.

“I don’t know, probably somewhere,” He said with a cocky smile plastered on his face as he is currently surrounded. “You brought her here, so hand her over then nobody gets hurt,”

“Bitch,” You murmured—raising your right hand as a loud gunshot was heard.

“Noona we need to go!” You heard what Jeongin said. Everyone panicked and ran outside leaving you and the Wolves along with your so-called relatives. Chan and Minho shot his bodyguards as Hyunjin was about to take Wooyoung hostage, he suddenly took his gun out pointing it at him. Everything happened so fast that you didn’t realize Jeongin was already leading you outside the venue.

“Wait, Hyunjin!” You said—letting go of Jeongin’s grip before you could even get out and go back inside.

“No! Noona come back!” You heard Jeongin call but ignored him.

You were welcomed by gunshots being exchanged as you hid under a table—you realized you still had Jeongin’s gun with you, checking how many bullets were left. This will be enough. Wooyoung already ran away as Chan, Minho, and Seungmin were left on the dancefloor, reloading their guns as they hid behind the bar counter. I need to find Hyunjin.

“Fuck,” Jeongin cursed under his breath as he took the other way back to the venue. You looked around trying to find a blind spot so no one would notice you coming through—by taking off your heels, you hurriedly transferred to the table next to where you were hiding. Chan fired a shot and noticed you behind the guards.

“Seungmin cover me,” Chan ordered as Seungmin fired with Minho. He managed to shoot one down as Chan fled the counterbar by hiding behind the columns.

Chan followed you until you reached the stairs that led to the basement. You ran downstairs barefooted as you saw a glimpse of Hyunjin running to a hallway—probably chasing Wooyoung. Unfortunately, it was a trap and Felix, Han, and Changbin were held hostage by Mr. Jung who tied them into a room, guns pointed at their heads by the rest of his bodyguards. Hyunjin was also led to the trap. They were outnumbered.

You couldn’t get inside and peeked through behind a large vase with huge leaves. Chan was able to grab your arm—pulling you towards a blind spot.

“What are you doing? You were instructed to leave with Jeongin?” He asked, having his grip around your arm tightened as it was hurting. The way he stares could kill you as they were ice cold yet, burning of anger.

“I can’t leave Hyunjin alone,” You reasoned out when someone from behind hit the back of Chan’s neck, causing him to pass out, making you scream in terror when they grabbed you to the room with him. “Let me go!” You yelled at the man but he doesn’t give a fuck and even if you tried to let go of his grip—he was too strong to pull you back again.

Your voice was heard throughout the basement until you reached the room. You saw the Wolves kneeling—hands tied behind their backs as you stood there in front of them. They were surrounded and a man was holding your arm, preventing you from escaping. Chan was unconscious. Felix got a bruise on his forehead and a busted lip. Han and Changbin were also beaten up, and Hyunjin had a gun directed to his temple by Wooyoung as he licked his inner cheek in annoyance—blood dripping from his forehead, a cut at the side of his brow, a busted lip. What the fuck did they do?

“Where are the rest of the Wolves?” Mr. Jung asked.

“I don’t know,” You answered firmly. You could see your uncle having that smile plastered on his face while sitting down with a glass of wine in one hand. Fucker.

The only ones missing were Seungmin, Minho, and Jeongin.

“Find them!” Mr. Jung ordered.

His wife was there, standing beside her bastard husband. It was a trap after all. The Wolves couldn’t say a word, but you are sure that they’re worried about what’s going to happen. Nobody expected this and you were dumb to follow Hyunjin, but if you didn’t, what could happen? Your eyes wandered around the area to find something to make a solution or a way to get out. But you can’t do this alone.

Fuck, these are all walls and there’s only one entrance and exit.

“After all these years of looking for you,” You heard your uncle say. “You came straight to the mouse trap,” He added as he stood up—walking towards you.

“Sir, we found them!” But not long after the chase, Seungmin, Minho, and Jeongin were brought into the room and were forced to kneel beside the rest of the Wolves. Grunts were heard from them and after that, they were quiet, but their faces were saying that they were not happy with the setup.

“Ahh, the rest of the orphans are here!”

Motherfucker.

“Your parents had a great legacy, too bad it was cut short because of the incident 20 years ago,” Mr. Jung laughed. “It didn’t hurt when my father chose my brother to be the Godfather when I’m capable of doing the business. Money was tight but cheers to the black market and soon, your properties and businesses,”

“I’m not giving them to you!” You argued as he sighed in response while shaking his head.

“I know you would say that,” He answered. “But let me make you a deal, each time you refuse, one of them dies,” He added, pointing to the brothers. “Who was it Wooyoung? Hyunjin is it?”

“Yes, her boyfriend,” Wooyoung answered.

“Ahh, you thought we didn’t know what happened,” Mr. Jung said. “I have someone who has access to the mansion and Chan’s private island. You thought you killed everyone from the party a month ago?”

It was probably one of the guards. Sigh… come on, think Y/n, think.

“Kill him,” You said, making everyone jump into surprise.

“Are you nuts, Y/n?!” Seungmin exclaimed.

“Shut up, Kim!” Wooyoung scolded.

“If plan A won’t work, we have a plan B,” Hyunjin said the night before as you two sat on the floor with the documents Seungmin left you to study.

“Obey them,” You answered.

“Yes,” He answered. “My brothers and I have secret pockets in our sleeves so we can still use small weapons if we struggle—they will take you from us for sure and if we get captured, buy their time. We know how to act,”

“Hold it,” Mr. Jung said, raising his hand. “What are you playing at?” He added, looking at you.

“You said that every time I refuse to give you rights to my parents’ properties, you’d kill one of them, which I am. I won’t give it,” You smiled at him.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin was playing with his zippo trying to get loose from the rope being tied around his wrists—slowly making a small flame. Minho was able to slip his pocket knife inside his sleeve and did the same—cutting the rope slowly for anyone not to notice his movements.

“You killed my parents so I’m sure killing my boyfriend won’t make any difference. Shoot him,” You said, leaning closer to your uncle’s face—gritting your teeth at him.

Your uncle raised a brow and seemed like finally getting the actual bait as he signaled Wooyoung to pull the trigger when Hyunjin was quick enough to dodge it—sweeping him off of his feet by swinging his legs to his ankles. The shot was fired at his bodyguard making the Wolves free from the knots, taking their guns out as they formed a circle—backs against each other. Unfortunately, the man didn’t even bother letting you go, instead, a gun is already at the side of your head.

Wooyoung got up wincing from the pain in his shoulder after he fell. It was embarrassing. He picked up his gun and pointed it at Hyunjin again.

“If you think you’re so clever to make them out of the ropes, you’re wrong, girl,” Your uncle said. “Any last words before I kill you?” He asked as he signaled the man to hold you tighter—your left hand managed to snake inside your dress as you hid the gun behind your back before firing the man’s feet making him push you away. After that, you shot your uncle in his chest before he could even react.

Good thing your gun was hidden inside your dress, assisted with a leather garter on your leg.

The Wolves started firing those men as Wooyoung ran away, his mom didn’t even make it out alive.

Gunshots were exchanged, as Felix got behind your back, firing.

“Hyunjin, get Wooyoung!” You heard Chan say, “We’ll cover you!” Hyunjin immediately fled from the room as he chased Wooyoung out of the basement, and back to the main hall.

“You need to follow Hyunjin,” Felix said.

“What about you guys?” You asked, aiming the gun at whoever tried to come closer. Bodies were already on the floor, some had the guts to hide and dodge the bullets from the Wolves.

“We can manage, just go!” Felix commanded, making you exhale harshly, and left the room—running back upstairs, barefooted. You saw a man lying down on the floor before you could reach the top and grabbed his gun, checking if there were bullets left.

“4 bullets?” You sighed as you checked yours too. “4, okay. 8 bullets will be enough,”

The coast was clear when you got back up to the main hall. It was a mess, tables and chairs had been turned, holes in the walls and fabrics from the bullets, some of the lanterns were broken, even the huge banner. No one was there except you and you’re worried about where Wooyoung has been leading Hyunjin to. It won’t be the basement of course.

Could it be at the parking lot?

Lifting your dress, you ran outside to the parking lot not minding how painful it is to rush out of the venue without your heels—but they’ll slow you down if you haven’t got them removed. And you’re right, Wooyoung and Hyunjin were still there, holding each other’s gunpoint. You hid by one of those parked cars and slowly took your way closer to where they were.

“It’s dumb how it took you 20 years to find her,” Hyunjin said.

“They did,” Wooyoung answered. “But we needed a motive to kill her. Not just her being the first in line,”

“She didn’t know anything until we told her!” Hyunjin argued.

“You put the idea inside her stupid little brain,” Wooyoung said. “She was easy to kill before then,”

“She will never give it to you,” Hyunjin answered with his arm firm enough to shoot him. You were able to sneak a few meters behind Wooyoung. Hyunjin pretended not to see you as he kept buying your cousin’s time. “Your father’s dead! She shot him,”

“You Wolves killed my mother too,” Wooyoung retorted.

“Your parents made us orphans. All of us!” Hyunjin said. “You don’t deserve the Godfather’s empire. It was built for a good cause and that’s not for you to make dirty. How does it feel to be alone now?” Hyunjin asked, cocking his head with a sly smirk on his face as you pointed the gun at your cousin’s head—shaking from anger.

“You deserve to die,” Wooyoung said, clenching his jaw, and was about to pull the trigger to aim at Hyunjin’s head when a loud gunshot was heard, making him kneel on the ground—collapsing a few seconds later.

Your pistol was hot as white smoke escalated from the hole. Hyunjin immediately moved away in case he got hit before you ran up to him—embracing him tightly.

It’s over.

The rest of the Wolves came to the parking lot after hearing the gunshot only to find you hugging Hyunjin.

It’s over—it’s finally over.

“Are you okay?” You asked—looking at him as you examined his face. “You didn’t get hit right?”

“I’m good,” He said, hugging you again. “You must be terrified,”

“No… but, I can’t believe I shot them,” You sniffed, burying your face against his chest.

“Baby, you did good, okay? They’re bad people,” He answered, caressing your back—kissing you on the forehead. “Let’s go home, you must be exhausted,”

“Are you guys okay?” Minho asked out of worry as you turned around to look at them. Felix seemed to be injured as he was assisted by Han and Seungmin.

“What happened?” You asked, hurriedly approaching the three of them.

“He got shot on his leg,” Seungmin sighed.

“God,” You cried, hugging Felix tightly which made the man chuckle in response. “I’m sorry,”

“Y/n, I’m fine,” He reassured, patting your back while painting a smile on his face.

“Yeah, she’s fine, we’re fine,” Hyunjin answered Minho.

“He’s dead?” Chan asked, pointing at Wooyoung’s body.

“Y/n shot him,” Hyunjin answered. “And the rest?”

“No one survived,” Changbin said.

Everyone felt relieved that night except Felix who struggled to walk because of his injured leg. Minho carried him like a bride as the younger one winced in pain as they left for the car. You were tailing them as Seungmin noticed your dress got ripped and you were barefooted.

“You’re a mess, girl,” Seungmin said, making you shrug in response—mascara being smudged.

“I wasn’t expecting to be like this but thank you for noticing,” You chuckled, reaching out your arm as Seungmin smiled, letting you wrap your arm around his broad shoulders although he’s a bit taller than you.

“Let’s go home, we still have a business to discuss,” You heard Chan say but Hyunjin begged to differ.

“Hyung, can’t Y/n just rest for tonight?” He said but Chan’s eyes landed on the two of you and said; “Are you tired, Y/n?”

“No,” You shake your head. “Let’s talk about the ownership,” You added, letting go of Seungmin— walking towards Hyunjin’s car making Chan smirk at him.

“You heard your girl, lover boy,”

“You got a fighter,” Changbin said, making a fist bump with Hyunjin making him cocky.

“Noona stole my gun,” Jeongin sulked as he got inside Chan’s car.

“You have a wall of guns in your room, a pistol is not that big of a deal,” Chan answered, making the youngest sigh in defeat.

You all went home after that and let the cops get to the venue a few minutes after you left. The news was all over the place and all of Korea was watching. No names were dropped except from the Jungs who died. There will be no problems now—unless there will be another list of names to shoot.

Meanwhile, everyone was inside Felix’s room as Minho was treating him—the man got a master’s degree in medicine. Unpredictable.

“He’ll be sent to a hospital, I already called an ambulance,” He said.

“Are you good, bro?” Han asked Felix who was obviously in pain.

“Do you think I’m good, Han?” Felix hissed at him, making everyone laugh.

“Now, Y/n, time for your decision,” Chan suddenly butted in as he signaled Seungmin to hand over the documents you need to sign for transferring your names to the ownership. “You can leave this all behind and let us handle everything or you want to continue your parents’ business and be our partner,” He smiled for the first time.

And without hesitation, you signed it.

“The latter, Chan, I will work with you,” You smiled at him—reaching out a hand for a shake. The boys didn’t have the time to react that they were happy with your decision. Especially Hyunjin.

“Wise choice,” Chan said, shaking your hand. “We’ll contact Mr. Park tomorrow so we can schedule a meeting, alright?”

“Welcome to the family, Y/n!” Seungmin said, hugging you tightly.

Family.

You finally have a family.

Hyunjin cleared his throat as Seungmin rolled his eyes, letting you go out of the hug.

“She’s going to be my sister-in-law, anyway Hyunjin,” Seungmin said.

“Shoo,” Hyunjin said as he pulled you closer to him.

The rest of the evening was not a surprise anymore. Felix was sent to the hospital with Minho and Chan with him, while the rest of the Wolves were ordered to stay and rest. You found yourself on the rooftop wearing your pajamas. Sitting there alone as the cold breeze of the wind dries your hair feels so calm. It was a very long day and a very long night—you’re glad it’s over but you knew you still have a lot to do starting tomorrow. A meeting, negotiations and maybe getting a new job.

Your life changed in the blink of an eye.

The heavens finally gave it to you and it is more than you could ask for.

A man who suddenly showed up and became the love of your life, a profession that would put a lot of things on the table, and the most valuable, a family. You’re not lonely anymore.

Although there is still one thing to be finalized…

“Love?” You heard Hyunjin’s voice as he walked upstairs to the rooftop. “I thought you were with Seungmin for notarization,”

“No, he said we can do that tomorrow,” You smiled. “Sit here, we have to talk,” You added, patting the empty space beside you. Hyunjin sat down immediately as he took your hand, kissing it before he placed it on his cheek to feel your warmth.

“Is this about us?” He asked.

“Do we still need to slow down?” You asked him as he smiled gently, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“No,” He said. “You’re officially mine now,”

“Can I say it?” You asked him as your foreheads rested against each other, Hyunjin was confused.

“What is it?” He asked, tilting his head to the side like a curious puppy but you think he’s more of a weasel. It took you a few seconds before answering as you made sure that the eye contact was still there with your hands placed on his cheeks. He was waiting.

“I love you,” But instead of answering, Hyunjin pulled you to sit on his lap, crashing his lips onto yours—bodies pressed together as you hugged him around his neck with his arms around your waist.

“I love you more,” He answered it between, breathing heavily as your lips collided against each other.

Your heart’s racing again and so does he.

It’s one heck of the night after all but, he is the best part of it.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

2K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 2 months

Text

you make a mess of me

character: alastor

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, blood + blood eating, periods, dry humping, biting (hard enough to break the skin), toxic relationship, noncon, possessiveness + entitled behaviour, pet/master dynamic, unintentional overstimulation + multiple orgasms, unrealistic amount of period blood, slashing/cutting the skin, alastor is getting off on the pain he’s inflicting on you

notes: this fic is extremely dead dove and involves alastor eating your period blood among other things. it gets gross; please read the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: lose control by teddy swims

words: 3.8k

The first day of your period is always, by far, the worst.

Because the first day of your period is the heaviest, the bloodiest, and, according to Alastor, the tastiest.

Which translates to: Alastor spending the entirety of the first day with his head buried between your legs, hungrily slurping blood from the most intimate part of your body, large claws curled around your hips and pinning you to the mattress, rendering you completely helpless beneath his grasp—defenceless against his vicious tongue, trapped at the mercy of his insatiable addiction.

You’ve lost track of time at this point, lost count of how many times he’s unintentionally made you cum, lost consciousness more than once, elusive and slipping from between your fingers, an intangible mist that you can’t seem to keep a solid grip on—something that melts in the heat of your palms as you squeeze too hard, too desperately.

But that promise of pleasure always seems to draw you back into the light of wakefulness, presses gasps of air into your lungs and shocks your mind from it’s muddled fog.

It’s building once more, a dense heat roiling low and slow in the pit of your stomach as it furls in on itself in an almost lazy manner—a ball of fire that grows hotter and heavier, pulses larger and larger as it expands, flares with every swipe of his nose against your swollen clit, singeing surrounding organs, consuming bordering tissues, boiling the blood in nearby tangles of vessels—until it stops, dims, dies once more, withering away to simmering little embers, yearning to catch flame all over again.

His unintentional edging eats away at your tattered sanity, renders you delirious for release, little fingers tangling in his bangs and yanking, a pitiful attempt to grind his face into your cunt, to catch your slick little nub on the tip of his nose.

The laps of his tongue, once soft as velvet, have turned rough against your licked-raw cunt, every drag of the wet muscle along your slit more painful than the last, sending tiny spikes searing through your gut.

It hurts, but it doesn’t stop you from being a greedy little thing, craving another orgasm, for that sweet, sweet relief that rushes through your exhausted body, that releases the tension building in your muscles, each graze against your clit coiling fibres tighter and tighter until your entire body has gone rigid, aching for reprieve.

For what it’s worth, Alastor doesn’t really seem to care—if anything, he encourages it, the hands on your hips aiding in your movements as your pelvis rolls up, the motion pushing another rush of warm blood from your hole. His tongue wiggles further inside of you, curls into a hook in response, siphoning the substance from your core into his throat with keen little growls exhaled out his nose.

It turns him into something primal—past animalistic, past inhuman, something ineffably sinister, all of his senses sharply honed on his singular task, antlers sprouting branches the longer he eats from you, the worse the pain grows.

He eats your blood like a starving man, with such vigour you’d think he’s never tasted something so delicious, obscenely drinking from the center your body—a delirious attempt to drain you of your essence, dangerous teeth just barely sealed behind puckering lips and an avid, twisting tongue.

It sounds disgusting, the crude smacks of his lips and working of his tongue echoing throughout his bedroom in thick squelches, his chin and his cheeks and his mouth drenched in your combined fluids—blood and spit, hurt and hunger.

It’s ritualistic in a sense, the way his tongue sprawls, swirls into your body, cups, and then darts back, scooping blood and tissue down his throat before forming a point, the tip circling the dips and contours of your cunt, sure to clean any remnants his messy eating might’ve left, before repeating the cycle over again.

Anguish turns stifling as he smothers himself with your core, time gone syrupy as it drips by dense glops, unhurried and unavailing. His tongue feels coarse against your once silky skin, now abraded by his incessant feeding, his methodical motions having caused tiny fissures to sprout along your hole.

Any faint flickers of pleasure have been completely eradicated now, morphed into torrid cinders that scorch your skin, pitchy wails scratching at your chest.

Something suspiciously similar to stop! shatters in your throat, your fingers burrowing further into his hair, knuckles rooted against his scalp right next to the base of his antlers and pulling.

He growls against you, the sound vibrating deep within your cunt, little tremors that snuggle into your flesh like worming maggots, a moan prying past your lips. A large palm flattens between your hip bones and presses down firmly, eliciting a squeak from your chest as it tries to milk your uterus from the inside out, desperate for more blood.

Another sound of frustration echoes behind his sternum, the fingers curled around your hip flexing, his talons further puncturing your flesh.

It isn’t enough for him.

Because, really, when has it ever been? When will it ever be? Your Owner has always been selfish when it comes to his precious pet.

There are already tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, streaming down over your temples in shimmering little trails. Droplets of salt glitter, suspended in spiky lashes, as your eyes flutter, blinking rapidly to clear your bleary vision and dislodging more water in the process.

Wordlessly, his head lifts from the apex of your thighs, elbows dimpling the mattress as he uses them to hoist his torso up, nosing along the junction of your hip with one deep inhale and letting the scent of fresh blood, trickling from the tiny piercings his claws have left, lead him.

His tongue, pigmented a dark crimson, unfurls from his mouth to flatten against your flesh, bathing over the little wounds in slow, deliberate laves. But that isn’t enough, either, a starving snarl ripping from his chest as he repeats the action, this time dragging his lips along, too, using them to encourage another bout of blood from the cuts as he sucks, hard.

It’s so strong, so forceful it has tiny tangles of vessels snapping beneath the skin, spilling enticingly into the surrounding tissues. A cry rips from your throat, back bowing off the bed as a bruise rapidly develops under his mouth, yet another mark he stains into you.

But staking such weak, insufficient claims isn’t what he’s here for today.

Something dark rumbles in his chest, the type of greed that’s borne in his core and nurtured by obsession, that rattles his ribs as it aches to escape, to consume more and more and more.

It’s tormented by the blood trapped below the barrier, ichor that teases him, taunts him, tests him—and, well, that’s just not fair, is it? How dare your body do such a cruel thing to its keeper; how dare your body withhold something that belongs to him.

Sharp teeth sink into supple flesh with zero resistance and scrape, effortlessly removing the first layer of skin and freeing the blood pooling beneath it. His avid tongue instantly sops up the substance, smoothing over the wound and pressing down powerfully, procuring another torrent of crimson.

But his rapacity still remains unfulfilled—if anything, it only grows in its appetency, that splash of blood serving as nothing more than a canapé.

He needs something deeper.

With another slow, vast sniff, he trails the tip of his nose along the expanse of your body, hunting for something thick and pulsing and allowing instinct to guide him, ears pricked and tuned into the frequency of a steady, strong pounding—and he finds it just above your belly button.

Stopping, he licks the area once—a long, broad stroke of his tongue, gliding across your skin and leaving a viscid smear of saliva in its wake.

Then a claw is puncturing your skin, slicing across your stomach in a controlled line, scarlet immediately seeping from the laceration, the tip of his talon missing your aorta by a hair.

It burns, a yelp sticking in your throat, tangling on a sob as you cough around it, spine arching instinctively. Cooling tingles skitter across the new incision as he breathes out a single puff of air, admiring his handiwork, before his mouth latches over it.

“Alastor!” you sob out, fingers curling against his shoulders and tugging, his name a garbled mess on your tongue. “What are you doing!”

“Hold fucking still,” he growls into the fresh injury. “Or I will rip your aorta out with my teeth.”

You know he won’t, know he values you far too much to kill you—his precious pet, his perfect little plaything, his prized possession—but that doesn’t mean that he won’t bring you alarmingly close to death—again.

Even still, and as fun as that is, he’ll never fully go through with it.

Because you’re so fucking obedient—he’s never found someone so dedicated, so devoted, so fucking desperate to please him, to go above and beyond and make him proud, all without a contract.

And he’s never giving that up.

Besides, he’s grown quite fond of you.

Predictably, you obey his order the instant it leaves his lips—never a single wisp of defiance drifting through your murky brain—squirming calmed, even as pangs quiver through your body.

He’s still for another moment or two, letting that delicious anticipation build, before he dives back into feeding, digs his tongue into the wound and tears it wider, another gush of warm blood rushing to fill the new gaping.

Another sound of pain cracks through his bedroom, jagged and crisp, and he nearly whines into your stomach, the wriggling of his tongue turned vicious.

It burrows into the wound, tip hooked as it plunges through the sticky substance, writhes under slippery tissues and broken capillaries in it’s quest for more, the rough voraciousness of it all sending blistering spears shooting through your stomach.

You’re well past the point of sobbing now, unintelligible pleads spilling past your lips soaked with spit, garbled and howled, but your nails scrape at his scalp, fingers tugging a little on his antlers, a moan vibrating against your flesh as his hands wrap around your hips again, holding you still.

He feeds on the stomach wound until the blood ceases to flow freely, until it requires too much effort on his part, blood working hard to begin congealing the gash only to be split open by his siphoning, over and over and over again.

Only then does he continue his exploration, scouring your body, nose curving over your ribs and outlining your breasts as claws slit superficial little slashes in your flesh, tongue swiping over them in experimentation, until finally he finds another heavy throbbing, right above your collarbone.

His breath, pushed from his lips in harsh, fast little pants of hunger, is infused with your blood, the stench of bitter copper stinging your nostrils as it wafts across your skin. It collects in damp little droplets against your neck, his tongue once again unfolding from its cavern to press, hard and flat and wide, against your jugular.

There’s no licking this time, no slow haul of the slick muscle to glaze the canvas before the inevitable incision, just his tongue held smooth and still pinned over the vein, feeling the steady rush of blood. Saliva drools steadily from the corners of his mouth, drizzling onto your chest in thick glass cords, tinted pale pink.

A shiver scampers up your spine as his irregular huffs ghost over your wet skin, chills erupting across your flesh. For a singular instant, everything is still, stagnant—your breath and his teeth and those wandering claws, the only constant being the pulsating thrum of your blood beneath his tongue—before his fingers are moving again, one palm curling around your neck to hold you still as a keen talon slices into your flesh once more.

A scream curdles in your throat, stifled by the hand still collaring your neck, his mouth latching over the wound to lap at the blood. Searing pain radiates from the site, shooting along your jaw and shoulder, and your spine arches off the mattress, struggling beneath his body.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you’re sobbing out, the plead spilling from your lips in a continuous sticky stream, letters tangled in threads of spit. “Please, Al—Master, please!”

Thunder rumbles up his throat and spills into the wound his tongue is prying open—a warning, or a denial, you can’t be sure—as his hips keep you pinned to the bed, his thighs spreading yours wide, his knees sinking into the mattress.

You’re trapped under him, helpless and vulnerable to his vicious attack as his lips pucker and his tongue wiggles and his teeth scrape, collecting you beneath their edges. The agony is excruciating as he devours you, as you thrash and cry and tremble pathetically, your efforts entirely in vain and failing to deter him at all, your ceaseless struggling barely a hitch in his routine.

“Please, please, please,” your chanting, bloated tears weighting your lashes, lids fighting to stay open. “Please, Sir, it—it—Stop!”

A roar ruptures in his throat, rough and loud, and he yanks himself away from his meal, raising his head to glare at you.

“Have you forgotten your purpose, pet?” he spits, flecks of your blood splattering across your cheeks, a smatter of crimson freckles. “Hmm?”

A large hand twines around your jaw and squeezes, hard enough that your cheeks hollow and your mouth puckers. His claws dig into your face as he forces you to look at him, his nose brushing your own.

“Does Master need to make you write it out a hundred times, again?”

“No,” you weep, head trembling in a poor imitation of a shake, still locked in place by his bruising grip.

“Then what is it? Why do you exist?”

“To serve you.”

“How?”

“In—In any way you want me to, Master.”

“Exactly,” he purrs, but the word is razored, teetering on the edge of vitriolic. “So be a useful little pet, like you’re supposed to, and let Master take what he owns, what he’s owed.”

And so, you do.

Because you’re nothing if not faithfully, blindingly obedient to your owner.

His grip relaxes, and your jaw raises, neck bowing off the sheets, offering itself to him unabashedly—your body, your blood.

Something nefarious spreads across his face, stretched smile curling at the edges as it reaches his eyes, a malicious little melody playing on the back of his tongue.

He takes a moment to admire your sheer obedience, your willing and unwavering faith him him, a claw tracing the newest injury, leaving behind a shallow outline in your flesh.

A whimper falls from your lips, but you don’t dare to look away from him, even as the tears lacquering your eyes finally overflow again, streaming down the sides of your head to collect in your hairline.

“Good girl,” he says, and although his voice is soft, the compliment is sharp—mean, mocking, hardened by a layer of patronization.

“Th-Thank you, Sir.”

And then he’s plunging his tongue back in, mouth sealing over the wound tightly, another shrill squeal clawing at your throat. Yet despite the white-hot pain it inspires, his saliva stinging the new contour, you do your best to hold still, to be good, body quivering with the immense effort.

“Christ,” he mutters, the word muddled with blood as he rubs his mouth into the cut. “Your suffering is so fucking delicious.”

His statement is so sick, tinged with a vile sort of pleasure that churns your stomach, acidic bile collecting on the back of your tongue, the revolt so overwhelming that you almost don’t feel it, twitching against your hip as it fills with blood, hot and hard and straining as his pelvis beings to shift, rutting in irregular little motions.

For a moment, you can barely believe what’s happening, mind numb with terror and shock. For a moment, your mind refuses to believe what’s happening, scrambling to scrape together some sort of patchwork excuse for this behaviour—maybe he was just moving to get more comfortable; maybe it meant nothing at all—but the rutting fails to cease, uneven and unskilled, a moan shuddering his breathing, and your body freezes beneath him.

If he notices, he doesn’t seem to care, the rocking of his hips never slowing, another muffled sound of pleasure soaking into your skin.

They’re sweltering against your neck, those little noises of ecstasy, every soft moan and cracked whine and hoarse grunt huffed out damp and humid, beading in little dewdrops on your marred skin.

“M-Master,” you gasp before you can stop yourself, wiggling a little beneath him to confirm your suspicions and whimpering when his cock throbs in response. “You—You’re—It’s—”

“What?” he pulls back slightly, chest rising and falling against your own with ragged little breaths. Something smug plays with the corners of his smile, twinkles of sadism shining bright in his eyes.

He’s going to make you say it.

Your gaze flees his own—it’s too intense, eyes watering with a fresh bout of tears, pins of embarrassment pricking your cheeks. “It’s—”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

Immediately, your stare snaps back to his, wide and submissive.

“It’s hard,” you force words from your tongue, the admission fading to a shameful whisper, face twisting in a wince as if the letters slashed your tongue.

“What is?”

“Master—” you flounder, head shaking a little.

“Go on,” he urges, grinding his hips into yours, slow and purposeful. “Tell me. You’re a big girl.”

“Your cock,” you nearly whine, eyes squeezing shut, fat tears leaking from the seams. “Your cock is hard.”

“It’s your fault, you know,” he murmurs, tongue rolling over your cheek thoughtfully, leaving watery streaks of blood smeared in its wake, mopping up the salt and swallowing it down, growling a little. “Crying out in pain like that.”

“Alastor,” you sob out, head shaking in messy little motions. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“It’s quite cute, the way you’re trying to act as if you don’t love this,” he muses airily, another gust of tangy metal nipping your nose as it wafts across your face, his forehead resting against your own.

Inhaling deep and measured, his ribs expand against yours, sharp bones digging into soft flesh, a gentle tremor coursing through his form as he nestles his face into your own, noses bumping together.

“You can’t fool me, pet. I know you too well.”

His thigh hitches higher, wedged tightly between your legs, shoved up against your cunt, the abrupt action eliciting a gasp, your eyes snapping open to search his own.

“I can smell your arousal, silly,” he says, voice low and smooth, nose tracing along your soiled cheek until his lips are at your ear. “In fact, it’s so strong that it’s overwhelming your blood.” A chuckle reverberates along the cartilage. “I know my pet is a nasty little girl.”

Barbs of humiliation flush through your body, fiery and stabbing through your veins, and he laughs again, a dark and wicked strain that vibrates from his chest into yours.

“Now,” he begins, the word slimy against your ear. “You’re going to be a good little girl for me and let your Master finish his meal.”

It isn’t a question, nor is it a request—it’s an order, and it’s an order he knows you’re desperate to obey.

Because, really, you live for him now, don’t you? Live to please him, to serve him, to make him proud. Because you’re nothing without him now, aren’t you? All of your self-worth wrapped up in your Owner, all of your purpose derived from him, all of your validation sitting heavy on his tongue, desperate to suck those vague compliments and shallow praises from his lips, to swallow them whole, always ravenous for more.

Because you’re just as greedy as he is, in a way. And he knows it.

And he loves it.

His hand wraps around your throat again, pressing his claws into the delicate flesh slow and forceful and procuring new trickles of blood, cascading down your neck in ribbons of crimson.

A groan spills past his lips as he nuzzles his cheek into the tiny wounds, daubing his face with you while his hips begin to increase in speed and force.

Starched cotton chafes the wound on your stomach as he humps away at you, the thin, firm muscles sculpting his thigh flexing against your cunt with each of his movements.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you’re weeping, stuttered by the hiccups catching in your chest.

“Aw, does it hurt? Huh?” he lifts his head slightly, glowing eyes scouring your face with voracity. “Am I—f-fuck—hurting you?”

The rolling of his hips judders a little as you bawl out a confirmation, gnarled and weighted with spit on your sloppy tongue, a whiny hiss sucked through the gaps of his clenched teeth.

It all hurts so much, the grinding of his shirt against the slits he’s carved into you and the rubbing of his thigh against your sensitive cunt and the digging of his tongue into his newest infliction.

It all hurts so much, but you don’t shove him off, don’t push at his shoulders or kick at his hips, arms winding around his shoulders and clutching, a leg entwining with his own, knee hooked over the back of his.

Sharp teeth bury themselves in the fresh slash, persistently oozing on your neck right above your jugular, and gnaw at the borders, raw skin splitting further beneath their razored edges. Another scream gurgles wetly in your throat, mangled by a sob, his responding gruff sound of pleasure seeping into the wound he’s feeding on, white-hot and buzzing.

The hair framing your temples is saturated with dense salt, the strands beginning to crust and dry in flat little knots against your skin, casualties of the beading sweat and ceaseless tears.

The flesh of your cheeks feels heated and sore, gone tight from the thick streams of dried tears that stain them, tiny remnants of salt streaking your face.

He must be getting close already, snarls panted out against your shoulder, uncoordinated movements accelerating with each noise you make, faster and faster and faster until finally his teeth sink into your unmarred shoulder, a shriek piercing the atmosphere as his hips stammer, grinding hard, and then still.

A vicious shudder courses through his entire form as his cock throbs, body rippling beneath the force of it. Hot cum fills his trousers, sticky and thick and so, so much, viscous dollops leaking through the fabric. It’s tacky and blazing against your hip, the little jolts of his pelvis rubbing it in crude bands across your skin.

Your fingers tighten, clinging to him, desperate for the comfort only he can bring, even as his strong jaw flexes and his teeth burrow deeper into soft flesh, embedded at least an inch or more, his tongue laving in messy strokes over the blood-slicked skin bunched between his lips.

“Master, Master, Master,” you’re sobbing into him, his breath harsh and stinging against the bite.

Everything aches, muscles pulled taut from agony and anticipation, heavy with tension. Tiny pricks of pain erupt across your body in waves, conjured with each brush of his clothing. Sobs and screeches have left your throat ripped open, every rush of air feeling like an inhalation of razor blades.

You’re still speaking, still chanting out his honoured title, but your ears have gone numb, your own voice unrecognizable, nothing more than a distinct vibration in your chest.

It’s only when his cock is beginning to soften that he finally dislodges his teeth from your body, licking over the carvings of his mouth once, twice, three times for good measure before his head raises to look at you.

The sight is stunning, kicks the breath from your lungs and the fog from your brain, attention suddenly honed on him, tuned into his frequency.

Strokes of crimson paint his jaw in messy smears, his tongue licking lazily at the blood coating his chin, streaking it further. It’s almost artful in a sickeningly intimate way, how he’s been glazed in you, your blood staining the lines of his teeth and the curves of his gums, his skin shimmering with his own diluted drool.

His breathing is still frayed, cedar dyed with pungent copper breezing over your face in gentle huffs. A knuckle skims along your cheek, gaping gaze following it’s trajectory, his claws varnished a glittering scarlet, only a shade or two brighter than their natural colour.

“See?” he pants out, question airy on his tongue but infused with malice, eyes refocusing on your own. Something sinister tugs at the corners of his lips, broad smile stretching impossibly wider, peaked edges of his mouth nearly nudging his lower lashes. “Was that so difficult?”

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin smut #tw:blood #inky.alastor #inky.hazbin

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luxurychristmaspudding · 5 months

Text

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all.

until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said.

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled.

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him.

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you.

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out.

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten.

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking.

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other.

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away.

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice.

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out.

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner.

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand.

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks.

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally.

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter.

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there.

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him.

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him.

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street.

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping.

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes.

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down.

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging.

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope.

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name.

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on.

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch.

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim.

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle.

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches.

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot.

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare.

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms.

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach.

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it.

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering -

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead.

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed.

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable.

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put.

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips.

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed.

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question.

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt.

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain.

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp.

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off.

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘I just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock.

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

#pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pickup truck #kings of leon #Spotify #pedro pascal x reader

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shellshocklove · 11 days

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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soullumii · 8 months

Text

sleepyhead | gale dekarios x afab!reader

(18+!!!) afab!reader. second person pov. literally just smut: oral (f receiving), piv, dirty talk, consensual somnophilia. gale lives to please as always

my first gale fic... this man has taken over my entire life.

2k words

Gale’s lips press against yours in the dark, gentle and coaxing. A push and pull. You blink blearily awake from slumber as his hand finds your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleep shift. His brown hair falls over the two of you like a curtain, shielding you from the terrors of the darkness.

“Mm hello,” you purr against his lips. “What time is it?” You ask when he pulls back. He looks a bit wild, pupils blown wide, his eyes practically look black even in the dim candlelight. He’s breathing heavily, his gaze traveling over you, heated, like the air surrounding fire. He doesn’t answer.

“Gale?” you repeat, warmth pooling in your belly at the pure desperation on his face. At the want curling in his eyes like a flame.

“It’s late,” he murmurs, voice rough, as though he’s parched. “Though I cannot stop thinking about you. I must…” he trails off, mind moving faster than his mouth can.

One thing you love about Gale is his ability to talk for seemingly hours on end with such eloquence and poetry. But when he’s like this…already hard against your thigh, slowly rutting his hips in circles, captured within pleasure, the words seem to leave him. You love it just as much, if not more.

He leans in and runs his nose along your throat, breath ghosting over your skin. His teeth graze you, and his tongue follows, licking a stripe up your throat. You moan shakily, cunt clenching around nothing.

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, though it’s more breath than substance. Your brain is already beginning to short circuit, especially when the hand on your waist travels down to your thigh, fingertips pressing into the muscle there.

“You just looked so beautiful on the battlefield today… I tried to contain myself because we had so much to do, but… fuck,” he breathes this against your neck, desperate. He hardly ever uses such vulgar language. “I need you, love.”

“So you really weren’t lying when you told me you were turned on by my fighting,” you say, surprised.

“I am a lot of things, darling, but a liar is not one of them.”

The sound of his inhale as he leans down to kiss you again sends more molten pleasure swirling through you.

His hips press against yours, grinding against your clothed cunt in a steady rhythm. You moan into his mouth, your hands reaching up to clench at his sleep shirt stretched over his broad back.

You’re still sleepy as his hand drifts to the hem of your shift. He slowly pulls it up your thighs, up over your breasts, revealing your undergarments. He paws at your waistband like a cat begging for food. You lift your hips so he can pull them down over your ass. He undoes the ties to your bralette and slides it off your shoulders.

Gale kisses his way down your body, stopping to close his warm mouth over a nipple while his dexterous hand squeezes and tugs at the other. You moan lightly, pleasure easing through you. He hums appreciatively against your skin, and the vibrations travel pleasantly through you.

“Gale…” you half murmur half moan as he moves his mouth to your other nipple. “I can hardly stay awake…” You feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness. The gentle chirping of the crickets outside your tent doesn’t help.

“Of course,” he says, leaning back. “We can stop.”

“No—no wait,” you stop him with a hand curled around his wrist. “You can keep going while I’m sleeping, I don’t mind.”

His eyes darken, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips. “Really? Are you quite sure?”

You nod with a sleepy smile and settle back comfortably. “Mhm.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut, your breathing slowing as you succumb to your exhaustion. Your limbs feel heavy, even as Gale continues his way down your body.

“You’re so gorgeous, so perfect,” he whispers into your skin. His fingers curl into your thighs before he slowly pulls them apart, baring yourself to him.

He runs his hands appreciatively up and down your thighs, squeezing and kneading before hooking them over his shoulders.

Gale presses a kiss to the inside of your right thigh before retreating. You feel his lips again a second later, just between your thigh and cunt, mere centimeters from where you’re wet and aching for him.

And then you feel his warm breath puffing against your core, and your body squirms impatiently. You peek an eye open to watch him.

He looks so handsome as he glances up at you, eyes soft, mouth twitched into a smirk. “I thought you were going to sleep.”

“I am,” you reply, closing your eyes again. “Just wanted to admire the view one last time.”

He chuckles lowly, “Sweet dreams, darling.”

He doesn’t move for a while, and you find yourself drifting off in the stillness. Your breathing slows, your mind growing quiet as sleep takes over you.

---

The moment your breaths even out as your hands fall slack against your sides, Gale presses his face between your thighs. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick a long, hot stripe through your folds. You taste delicious on his tongue, and gods you’re so wet. You’re soaking his beard, and he’s hardly been between your thighs for longer than ten seconds.

He doesn’t care. You keep releasing cute little moans in your sleep as he takes you apart brick by brick. Or rather… lick by lick.

His hands grip your waist, keeping you close. Your hips buck involuntarily to meet his mouth, grinding against his face. Even in your sleep you’re seeking out pleasure from him.

God forbid he won’t deliver.

He pulls back one of his hands to slide a finger into you. It goes easily. He adds another without any resistance. You’re so incredibly wet. He wants to remain between your thighs forever. Your sweet, slick arousal runs down his hand to his wrist, and he bends his head to lick it off.

His hips rut against the floor of his tent, the act of eating you out so arousing to him he has to seek his own pleasure to mitigate the pain. He doesn’t mind. He’d rather see you cum over and over again before he ever does.

He slowly thrusts his fingers into you while mouthing at your clit, delighting in your shaky breaths and wanton moans. You look gorgeous, brows screwed together, sweat beading on your temple. You’re going to wake up soon, and damnit he’ll make sure it’s while you’re cumming.

---

Warmth kindles between your thighs, pleasure and arousal pooling deep in your belly, tingling in your toes and rising through you.

Sleep drifts away from you, hanging onto the recesses of your mind, but ultimately not strong enough against the building pleasure you feel.

You chase the feeling, the promise of sweet release. Your surroundings slowly begin to materialize around you. The feeling of your bedroll clenched between your fingers, the undeniable feeling of a mouth between your legs, the sound of low, rumbling, appreciative moans that vibrate through you.

Even the sound of your own cries are registering in your mind.

The melting pleasure collapses into one pinpoint. A supernova explodes within you as your clit is sucked diligently while the two, long fingers buried inside you hook to press against your g-spot.

Your back bows, eyes flying open as you cum against Gale’s warm and inviting mouth with a cry of his name. He guides you through it with gentle laps of his tongue through your folds. He mumbles words of encouragement, but they’re lost against your skin.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Gale.”

“Mm.” You can practically feel his pride radiating off of him from making you come.

He continues to lick you through it until you’re coming again, hands fisted in his hair as his lips suck once more on your clit, his fingers fucking into you. Your legs quiver atop his shoulders, your mind utterly fucked into emptiness.

When it’s all too much you push him away, breathing heavily, contented tears in your eyes.

“Holy shit,” you huff, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you should wake me up like that more often.”

His eyes sparkle excitedly. “If that is what you wish, I’d be glad to.”

“You are such a giver. You really should let me take care of you sometimes.”

He shrugs. “I like giving. It brings me great pleasure to reside between your thighs for as long as you can stand.”

You sigh at his fanciful words, but you appreciate his adoration all the same. He crawls forward as you lean up to kiss him, the taste of yourself on his tongue rekindling the fire in your gut. His hand winds its way into your hair, the other squeezes your hip.

“I need you inside me,” you whisper against his lips. “Now.”

He groans, fingers flexing in your hair. Your body jolts with arousal at the sweet tug.

“Say no more,” Gale says. “Your wish is my command.”

He takes off his trousers then rolls you onto your stomach. His hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up and backwards, and his knee comes between your thighs to press them apart.

He guides the head of his cock through your slick folds and your hips squirm in anticipation.

He leans across your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “I wish you could see yourself on the battlefield. The way you look with someone else’s blood on your armor… The flush on your cheeks… The way you breathe… You’re so capable, so strong. I cannot help but stare.”

He eases his cock inside you and the two of you moan in tandem at the delightful feeling. Him, at your warmth. You, at the undeniable feeling of being filled.

He bites lightly at your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Sometimes I wish I could take you right there. In front of all of our friends and dead foes.”

You clench around him at his words, and he groans, hips snapping forward. You jolt against the bedroll, elbows digging into the feather down material.

“Gale,” you whimper.

He hums, “Yes. You’d be saying my name just. Like. That.” He delivers those three last words with hard thrusts, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the tent.

He builds up the pace, fucking into you steadily. Your cheek squishes against your pillow as he fills you, your mind still sleepy but undeniably consumed by lust and love.

“What do you think? Would you like that, love? Would you like to be fucked in front of all our companions?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please, Gale. Need you—“

“Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs. His hand skates across your stomach as his warm fingers settle over your clit. “As much as I’d love to indulge the fantasy, I’m not sure I’d want them to watch.”

He begins to circle your clit with reverence, in time with his thrusts as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“I want you all to myself,” he grits.

You cry out, melting against him, knees buckling as you reach your release. It rips through you, hard and fast. Unrelenting. A wildfire raging through your nerves.

Gale chases after his own climax, thrusts growing sloppy and deeper, moans and praises spilling from his lips before he finally cums inside you, hips twitching.

Your body trembles as the aftershocks roll through you.

You collapse onto the bedroll, breathing heavily, and Gale pulls you into him. You both lie on your sides, him softening inside you. He buries kisses into your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Are you all right?” he asks you, his thumb brushing comfortingly along your rib cage.

“So good,” you respond, brain blissfully empty, as if the tadpole never existed. You already feel sleep crawling across your mind again, pulling you under. You yawn and grin happily, like a cat that’s gotten its warm milk.

“Going back to bed already?” he teases, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. ��I wear you out that much?”

“Mhmm…”

“All right. Go to sleep darling. I’ll clean you up.”

You’re already halfway asleep when you feel his tongue dip into you once more, licking his cum out from inside you—

Oh well. You can catch up on sleep tomorrow.

#gale x reader #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #baldurs gate gale #gale bg3 #gale dekarios smut #bg3

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stylesispunk · 2 months

Text

"You're always on my mind"

Joel Miller x f!reader.

summary: You are Joel's reason to live and he is yours.

word count: 3k

warnings: some fluff and heavy angst.

a/n: I'm still on my writing break, but I couldn't take this one out of my head, so you have it here. I don't want to go into details because it would spoil the whole fic, but this is pretty much based on a movie, and by the name and the song, you may get the idea which one is it. Reblogs and comments are appreciated, so please come here and tell me your thoughts. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Finding such beautiful things in a world like this was not an easy thing to do. In a world like this, there was no spare room for distractions but survival.

In a tarnished world, you were a rose blooming from frozen ground, when neither the coldness of the cryptic winter could end your sweetness.

You were there even when your heart broke at the sight of him, defeated and lost without his Sarah; without the tiny baby he raised, he died in his arms that night of September.

You were there when he became cold, and Machiavellian, a distant ghost of the sweet man with the gleamy brown eyes that smiled at you without a warning, was just off and gone.

And you were broken for him, anxious and afraid of him letting his life go away because the pain of tightening his chest might have been stronger than his love for you.

He was hurting you by hurting himself, and he knew it. He knew he was hurting you; he was aware of the pain he was causing just by looking at your somber gaze, lost in state. Yet he couldn't care or see beyond his own pain. He had lost his daughter and his baby, and he was losing you as you slipped through his fingers.

He had tried to end his life, but he failed. He was going to leave you behind, and he didn’t think about it. He had decided he was going to die and find solace in the thought that he would be reunited with his daughter in a peaceful world while leaving you in a tarnished reality full of monsters and nightmares. Alone with your fears and pain suffocating your lungs. Alone, just by yourself, as if he wasn't the only reason you had to survive.

After the bullet rubbed the skin of his temple, you became silent. You weren’t able to look at the scar marked on his skin, let alone look at his eyes.

And Joel’s heart was constricted against his ribs. Once he failed, he woke up from his trance, and he became aware that he hadn’t been looking after you as he should, but you were silent and you were on his mind.

You weren’t talking, but he knew you were broken because of him.

One day, you were coughing, and Joel's heart contracted against his ribs, and his breath stopped as he listened to your complaints.

"You're sick," he said, looking at you, pacing angrily at him mostly.

Silence.

"You should drink water or

"Or one of those things is going to come after us, I know," you replied without giving a look.

“Do you want to get yourself?"

"Killed? Yes, maybe I do want that." Your voice was motionless, as your eyes kept staring at the flames from the fire flying away to the sky.

"Don't you ever say that; you hear me?"

Silence, defeating silence.

"Answer when I talk to you, please.” He looked for a glimpse of the spark that used to adorn your gaze. Joel's voice trembled with emotion as he stepped closer to you.

"You can't give up," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away from him, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the walls of your makeshift shelter.

“You were going to give up,” you whispered once you weren’t facing him.

Joel's heart sank at your words, the weight of them heavy in the air between you. He reached out a hand, hesitating, before gently resting it on your shoulder.

"I... I know," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "I was lost. I was so consumed by my own pain that I couldn't see beyond it. But seeing you... seeing how much I've hurt you... it's woken me up."

You felt his touch, gentle over your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to face him. The wounds were still raw, and the pain was too fresh.

"I'm sorry," Joel whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I promise to do better. To be better."

Silence hung heavy between you, but it wasn't the suffocating silence of before. It was a silence tinged with possibility and the hope of redemption.

Slowly, tentatively, you turned to face him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity.

"You tried to kill yourself, Joel!" You called out "You are in pain, but I am too! Sarah was mine too; maybe not by blood, but she was my daughter too." You sobbed, not being able to contain the tears from spilling. "You were going to leave me alone. Here and-"

He cut you off by pressing his lips against you, expressing all the love he held on his chest and on his whole body for you.

"I love you; I love you; I love you," he murmured against your lips, recomforting, "I'm sorry."

As Joel's lips met yours, a flood of emotions washed over you: love, sorrow, forgiveness, and hope. His kiss was a silent confession, a promise to be there for you, to fight alongside you, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

Tears mingled with the warmth of his embrace as you melted into his arms, feeling the weight of the world begin to lift from your shoulders. In that moment, you realized that, despite the pain and the struggles, there was still beauty to be found in the love you shared.

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling with emotion. "I forgive you."

Joel pressed his forehead against yours, holding your face in his palms with such a delicate touch. "We keep each other alive," he murmured.

"We keep each other alive," you echoed softly, the weight of his words sinking in.

He kept the promise. He would live for you, and you would live for him; you were each other's reason to stay alive in a mad world.

With time, he let his guard down. Settling in a place like Jackson, in a world like this, it seemed like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. There were people laughing, wearing nice clothes, and sleeping under a safe roof, and yes, it was nice, but Joel didn't want the conformity to ruin his careful routine.

But he couldn't help it. It was impossible to resist his sights in the mornings when the first rays of sunshine peeked through the window, directly at you on your side of the bed. He was astonished by you, by the effortless beauty of your creases and your ends, by your peaceful demeanor, next to the warmth he would provide.

While his achy bones and silver hair reminded him that he was getting old, you looked the same, as if time and pain never took their toll on you.

"You always do that," you murmured, your voice drained from sleep.

"Do what?" was his question, smiling.

"Staring," you blinked your eyes open, trying to wash your sleep away. "It's creepy"

"I love watching you sleep, so I can remember what you thought the day was."

You chuckled; the sound resonated in Joel's ears.

"Sorry if it creeps you out," Joel said, his smile softening. "I just... I can't help it. You're beautiful, even when you're asleep."

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching out to tousle his hair affectionately. "You're such a sap, Joel."

He laughed, leaning into your touch. "Maybe I am. But I mean it. You're the reason I’m alive.”

Your smile dropped. “Don’t say that.”

Joel's expression softened, realizing he may have touched a sensitive nerve. He gently took your hand in his, his eyes searching yours with sincerity.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly. "But it's true. You've been my anchor through the storm, the light in the darkness. Without you, I don't know where I'd be."

A tiny smile graced your lips as you looked at him, studying his face, the creases on his forehead, and the silver hair growing. Time had hurt Joel, but it made him look beautiful to your eyes, and you felt a sadness within your body.

“What do you want to do today?” Joel asked, smiling at you.

You took a moment to compose yourself, letting Joel's words sink in before responding. Despite the weight of his declaration, you knew his love for you was genuine, and it filled you with warmth.

"I don't know," you replied, returning his smile. "Maybe we could take a walk around the town? It's been a while since we've explored together."

Joel nodded in agreement, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "That sounds like a great idea. It'll be nice to spend some time outside, away from these walls.”

Joel didn't like how people ignored him. His protective instincts kicked in as he noticed the way some people in the town seemed to ignore your presence. He tightened his grip on your hand in a gesture of solidarity and support. Even though he knew that you were the only one who could see him, he couldn't bear to see you being overlooked and dismissed by others.

“You seemed tense,” you joked, nudging his neck with your nose as you walked.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your attempt to lighten the mood, grateful for your ability to find humor even in difficult situations.

“Yeah, well, I hate how people look at me as if I were," he replied, his voice tinged with warmth as he squeezed your hand gently.

“You know why,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before turning his attention back to the path ahead.

Just then, Tommy noticed Joel walking and approached him with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Brother! Where are you off to?" Tommy called out, his voice breaking through the silent atmosphere in Joel’s little world.

Joel glanced at Tommy, offering a small smile in return. "Just taking a walk," he replied, gesturing the way.

Tommy's smile widened as he nodded, noticing Joel’s cheerful humor. "Nice to see you out and about.” He downed his head for a moment. “Are you okay, right?”

Joel looked at Tommy for a moment, waiting for the words to come out of his lips: “Better than ever.”

"Yeah, Tommy, I'm doing alright," Joel replied, his voice laced with false cheerfulness. "Just enjoying the day."

Tommy nodded, though a hint of skepticism flickered in his eyes. "Good to hear, Joel. If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

With that, Tommy bid them farewell, leaving Joel to grapple with the weight of his secret once more. As they resumed their walk, Joel couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at him, knowing that no matter how much he longed for connection,.

“Don’t be mad. He’s just worried,” you said, picking up on Joel’s behavior.

Joel sighed softly, grateful for your understanding and support. He knew you were right; Tommy meant well, and his concern was genuine. Yet the weight of his secret still pressed heavily on Joel's shoulders, a constant reminder of the barrier that separated him from the rest of the world.

"I know," Joel murmured, his voice tinged with sadness. "I just wish I could... I’m the big brother.”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering a silent gesture of comfort. Joel found solace in your presence, in the way you understood him without needing words.

"I'm lucky to have you," Joel whispered, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You smiled at him, not speaking more words, and you continued your walk together, hand in hand.

Once you were outside the walls of Jackson, you led the way. As Joel noticed the surroundings, his apprehension grew with each step. Memories of that fateful day flooded his mind—the pain, the fear, and the aftermath.

"I don't like this place," he said, his voice tinged with apprehension as he halted abruptly in his tracks.

You turned to face him, noting the five-foot gap that separated you. "Please, “you implored, your fingertips gently caressing his cheeks. His eyes closed, savoring the warmth against his skin, oblivious to the tears welling up.

"Love," he murmured, his voice trailing off.

“Please, tell me you still have that sweet love inside you," you pleaded, still tracing delicate patterns on his face.

"You know I don’t," he finally answered, his voice breaking mid-sentence.

As the warmth of your touch withdrew, he opened his eyes, meeting yours with a mixture of fear and longing. Tears shimmered in your eyes, and Joel felt his heart clench.

"It's been a year, Joel," you whispered, but he shook his head, unwilling to accept your words.

"You need to let me go," you urged gently.

"I can't. I don't want to," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached as you listened to Joel's words, knowing the depth of his pain and longing. You wished you could ease his suffering; you wished you could erase the sorrow that weighed so heavily on his shoulders. But you also knew that holding on to the past would only prolong his agony.

"Joel," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face in your hands once more.

“I can’t,” he repeated. “This is the only way I can have you,” his tears falling down his checks.

"I can't just let you go," Joel protested, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I was so happy that you were mine.”

Your eyes softened with understanding, yet they were also filled with a profound sadness. "I know it's hard, Joel. But holding onto me like this is only hurting you more. You deserve to find peace."

Joel's gaze faltered, torn between the desire to cling to the memory of you and the need to find a way to heal. His heart ached with the unbearable emptiness that consumed him, a void that seemed impossible to fill.

"I don't know how to live without you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him a silent anchor amidst the storm of his emotions. "You don't have to do it alone, Joel. Let me be a part of your memories, but also let yourself live for the present."

Tears welled up in Joel's eyes, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your words. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded, a flicker of hope stirring within his heart.

“Close your eyes,” you told him, grabbing the same hand you had put on the wedding band the day you got married, when the world hadn’t ended.

As Joel closed his eyes, a sense of calm washed over him, knowing that whatever was to come, he was not alone. He felt the warmth of your touch and the gentle pressure of your hand in his, and he let himself be enveloped by the love and comfort you offered.

With a trembling breath, you began to speak, your voice soft yet filled with emotion. "Joel," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of a lifetime of love and memories. "I want you to know how much you meant to me and how deeply I loved you."

Tears streamed down Joel's cheeks as he listened, hanging onto every word and every syllable that passed your lips. He felt his heart ache with bittersweet longing, the pain of losing you mingling with the warmth of your love.

"You were my everything, Joel," you continued, your voice breaking with the intensity of your emotions. "And even though I'm not physically with you anymore, I will always be a part of you, guiding you and watching over you."

Joel's grip tightened around your hand, his chest constricting with a mixture of grief and gratitude. "I love you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

And then, as you finished speaking, Joel felt a shift in the air—a gentle breeze that seemed to carry your presence away. He opened his eyes, expecting to see you standing there before him, but to his dismay, you were gone.

"No," Joel whispered, his voice echoing through the empty space around him. "Don't leave me."

But there was no response, no comforting touch to reassure him. You were gone, leaving behind only the memories and an ache in Joel's heart that would never truly heal. And as he stood there, alone in the silence,.

Ever since that tragic day, when you had died while patrolling with Joel, he had been unable to escape the relentless grip of grief. It was a stupid accident, one he could have prevented if he had been faster, but he wasn't, and he was paying the price.

Right now, every moment and every breath seem to echo with your absence. He had held himself to the memories of your laughter, your touch, and your presence by his side. Everywhere he turned, he saw traces of you. You were there, and he could touch you, but now your goodness fades away with the air. He longed for the comfort of your embrace, the warmth of your smile, and the sound of your voice calling out his name.

But there was silence. He turned around, and with the heaviness in his heart and tears spilling down his checks, he walked back alone to Jackson. This time, there was no reminder of you by his side. Tears blurred Joel's vision as he trudged along the familiar path, the memories of that day replaying in his mind like a relentless nightmare.

But no amount of regret or self-blame could bring you back, and Joel knew that he would have to find a way to carry on without you by his side.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears still streaming down his cheeks, Joel resolved to carry on, to face each day with courage and determination, knowing that even though you were gone, your love would always be with him.

You were always on his mind.

899 notes · View notes

juyofans · 1 month

Text

it's you ( j.wy & c.s )

pairing › jung wooyoung x afab reader x choi san. about › 3.6k, nsfw (minors dni), fluff warnings › smoking weed, nicknames, threesome, double penetration, riding, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it guys), p in v, creampies, degradation, praise, fingering, high sex, idol au, mxm content, nipple play, woosan deserve their own warning, lmk if i missed anything

synopsis › getting high with your weed besties is something of a tradition for you. being fucked by them, however, is definitely not. note › when you haven't written since february and all of a sudden you watch chellateez and go into absolute brainrot 😂🙏 i swear i wrote this in 8 hours i don't know what the hell is wrong with me but whatever. also happy 4/20 so fitting for this fic am i right 😝 this is dedicated to my sexy hot smoking wife @yunhoszn tagging › @atzhouse @skteezcursed also @hoshiseon for encouraging me to keep going ily

“You’re late.”

You scoff, shutting the door behind you. The room is dim, save for the lamp in the corner, but you don’t need light to register the already thick atmosphere of the hotel room and the two silhouettes in the corner.

“Clearly, it doesn’t matter since you guys have already started,” you say, flicking the light switch on.

San comes into focus first, holding a rolled-up joint in between his fingers as he exhales smoke. The sight makes you dizzy, partially because of the cloudy air but also because of the opened blazer adorning his frame, exposing more than covering it. One look at Wooyoung proves the same, his loosened tie and black jacket strewn across the chair much more haphazardly than merely an hour ago on the Coachella stage.

“You guys didn’t even change?” you gasp, almost accusingly.

“Can you blame us?” Wooyoung responds, his silky voice floating through your ears, “That performance was insane. We needed something to calm us down.”

Wooyoung hands you a joint rolled up perfectly with his nimble fingers, and San beckons you over with two fingers. You shuffle over, watching him pull out his Hello Kitty lighter from the drawer beside him.

“We were too antsy to think about changing,” San confesses. You lean down, close to his chest as he flicks the wheel of the lighter. The orange flame dances across his chest, shimmering with the body oil he applied before the performance, and it’s hard to pay attention to your own joint when he lights it.

The smoke bursts, taking you by surprise, and you cough as San pulls the joint out of your mouth.

“You okay?” he asks, delicately cradling your chin. Your lungs burn as if they’ve been lit on fire, but all you can focus on is San’s warm gaze grounding you.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s been a while.”

“Do you not smoke without us?” Wooyoung asks from the corner. You turn, shifting your gaze to him and noticing the newly popped open buttons of his shirt.

“Of course not. You’re my weed besties, it’s like I’d be cheating on you if I got high without you.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, trudging over to take a seat next to you. He pats at the empty space next to him, right between you and San, and you oblige, letting the bed frame hit your back as you scooch down.

“Do you guys get high without me?” you ask, timidly, wondering if only you share this sort of possessive sentiment.

“Of course not,” San replies. He’s playing with your hair now, curling it between his fingers as if you were always meant to be in this position, by his side. “You’re our weed buddy for life.”

And it’s true. You got high with San and Wooyoung your first time years ago, and you knew you wouldn’t have it any differently as you watched them wipe away your tears from the burning ache in your chest and tell you that you were doing so well for them, that you were taking it like a champ and that you were safe with them. Pulling out the weed is almost a tradition now, often finding yourself in the backseat of the van exhaling smoke after a particularly exhausting performance or in your bedroom at night after a long day of work. It helps you take the edge off things, they help you take the edge off things, and it’s a mutual response that all three of you are together when you take your first and last hits.

“Yeah, we’re like friends with benefits. Except the benefit is the weed, not sex,” you clarify. You attempt to grab your joint from San, wanting to experience the so-called benefit you just mentioned, but San holds it high above him in an attempt to tease you and you can only pout in response.

“Ask me nicely, and maybe I’ll give it to you,” he says, holding it farther away from you as you reach for it with grabby hands. You can hear Wooyoung laughing from the side, but all you’re focused on is the prize in his hands as you lean over his lap, your right hand finding purchase on his exposed shoulder as you finally grab ahold of his hand, plucking the joint right out of his fingers.

“Got it!” you exclaim, but it takes a few moments for you to register Wooyoung’s silence before you look down, wondering why the room is engulfed in sudden quietness. You suppose you find the answer in San’s expression, staring up at you, and just about now you realize how imperceptibly close he is, how you’re now straddling his lap and somehow your hand has slid down to his chest, grabbing onto the hardness of his chest muscle.

You think you might die.

You feel San’s heart beating wildly against your fingers, and it takes thirty seconds before you realize that this is wrong, so, irrevocably wrong, and you make a move to shift off his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” you start, removing your hand from his abdomen and bringing your leg up, “I wasn’t paying attention and I—”

San grips onto your thigh, holding you in place. You still, wondering if his touch is merely a dream or something very, very real with even more real implications.

“Do you know how long I’ve imagined you like this?” he starts, his chest constraining as if he’s pained, as if the mere sight of you in his lap is like poison flooding his veins.

“What?” you ask. Your whole world shifts on its axis and suddenly, you’re hyperaware of the way his pants strain against his dick, the hardness against your thigh, and his heavy breathing in front of you.

“Five years,” Wooyoung answers. Your gaze shifts to where he sits, and he leans closer as if this is some dirty secret that’s only meant for your ears. “He’s imagined you in this position for five years, ever since the day we first got high together because you wanted to be good for him. For me. For us.”

And you feel like glass, see-through despite every intention to hide your feelings because it’s true. It’s imperceptibly true that you wanted to get high with them to gain some sort of intimacy with them, a tradition with only you three and feelings that no one else would understand. It’s true that your heart flutters whenever someone mentions it’s your thing with them, because even the mere thought of being associated with them is enough to drive you insane.

The joint in your hands can get you high, but nothing else makes you float like their presence next to you, imagining the way it’d feel if you just leaned a little closer and made yourself theirs.

“I don’t understand,” you say, even though you all know damn well that you do. “What are you trying to say?”

Wooyoung doesn’t answer. Instead, he grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours, swallowing your gasp and bringing you close.

You moan against his lips as you press back, too dizzy to even comprehend. You don’t know if your lightheadedness is from the hit you just took or Wooyoung’s lips, but either way, your brain is spinning and all you can think of is being consumed by him. He sucks your bottom lip in between his teeth, biting softly as you whine. Wooyoung kisses you like he’s starved, as if he wants to eat you whole and devour you as if you’re his for the taking, and judging by the way you respond so eagerly, you might as well let him.

“Enough,” San complains, and Wooyoung pulls back from you as you attempt to register what the hell just happened. You can’t even sit still for a moment before San pulls your thighs so you’re placed right on top of his clothed dick. All you can do is fall forward, meeting his lips halfway with yours.

If Wooyoung kisses you like he’s taking everything from you, then San breathes life back into you. He presses slowly, and gently, testing the waters until you whimper against his lips for more. It’s heartwarming how he handles you delicately, as if he’s your first everything, and it’s not long before you squirm on his lap and he has to pull back from you, throwing his head back and groaning.

“Stop,” he breathes ruggedly, making a noise of protest as you grind down harder. “I don’t want to make you come for the first time against my pants. I need to be inside you.”

Still, you can’t seem to stop until Wooyoung puts his hands on your waist. You whimper, almost in tears from being stopped so suddenly.

“Look at you, grinding yourself against him like a whore. Thought you were being good for us, but all you care about is about getting to cum, is it?”

“No!” you gasp, shaking your head, but you know you’re past the point of no return when Wooyoung spins you around, on San’s lap. San wraps his hand around your waist and pulls you close against him, again, and you feel the hardness of his abs against your thin shirt. Wooyoung moves from his position to kneel between San’s legs, and your legs, grinning wickedly as he lifts your short skirt so that you’re truly spread open for him.

“Look how wet you are,” he coos, and the sweet tone in which he says those filthy words makes you want to die, “how long have you been wanting us like this? Five years, maybe even longer?”

You nod, and San sighs against your ear.

“Could’ve been sitting pretty on my dick for ages now. It’s okay, though. We can make up for lost time.”

San trails kisses down the side of your neck, licking, biting softly, until you’re squirming away from him and he has to hold you in place with his right hand. The rings on his fingers shine against the lamplight, and you feel yourself getting wetter with the way he grips you so easily, kissing you so carefully but having the potential to ruin you wholeheartedly.

You’re brought back to reality when you feel a featherlike touch prod at your panties. They’re pink, cute, and definitely not the right ones to wear if you want to get fucked, but Wooyoung seems to pay no mind as he slides them off you in one go, tucking them into the back pocket of his pants. Your top follows next, and Wooyoung groans when he finds no bra underneath, making haste to lean in close, taking an exposed nipple into his mouth.

“No bra? You just wanted to strip for us, huh? So, so easy for us to fuck you.”

You can’t even say no because deep down, you know he’s right.

“You wear these short skirts,” he says, trailing his fingers up your thighs, “and tight shirts with no bra, and cute, cute little panties that drive us insane. Do you know how many times we’ve gotten off to the thought of you, so sweet and perfect like this?”

San bites your earlobe as Wooyoung says this, and you cry out, digging your nails into his thighs.

“You’ve gotten off to me?” you pant, breath heady with desire.

“More times than you can imagine, pretty.”

With that, his fingers finally find your folds, slipping inside them with ease. He finds your clit in seconds as if he was always meant to be there, and it’s not long before he traces figure eights on the nub, holding your thigh open with his free hand so tightly he’s sure to leave marks.

As if you weren’t crazy enough already, San ceases his ministrations on your neck to take ahold of your nipple in his hand, tweaking and pinching until it’s irritated before moving over to the other one, alternating until you can’t keep yourself silent anymore.

“Please, please stop before I— Oh, god!” you cry as Wooyoung slips his fingers inside you, curling them so tightly that it has you seeing stars. His thumb finds purchase on your clit again, never stopping his incessant rubbing, and you think you might pass out from the coil in your stomach building up, the pressure so tight that it really might take you out.

“Be good and let go for us,” San breathes into your ear, swirling his finger around your nipple, and that’s all it takes for you to spill over the edge, throwing your head back against San’s shoulder and clamping down on Wooyoung’s fingers.

Wooyoung works you through it until you’re begging him to stop, and the sight of your cum stringing on his fingers makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment. It drives you even more insane though when Wooyoung brings his fingers to San’s lips and they both murmur sounds of desire, and you watch entranced as San swirls his fingers around Wooyoung before he pulls them out with a pop.

Before you can even say anything, though, Wooyoung kisses San, slipping his tongue inside the other’s mouth and licking at his lips. You feel yourself getting wetter at the sight, entranced with the way their lips slot together so perfectly at the taste of you.

“So good,” San gasps out as Wooyoung pulls back, pressing another kiss against his lips before shifting his attention to you. San presses his lips against yours, making sure you taste yourself against him.

“You taste so sweet,” he starts, running his fingers through his hair, “So, so sweet. Let me fuck you, pretty. Please?”

Your chest pangs, suddenly aware of how badly you need something inside of you, and before you can even say yes, Wooyoung is pulling your skirt higher, up to your waist. It barely covers your ass now, and as San busies himself with freeing his dick, Wooyoung makes sure to show you just how much he appreciates you, groping at the skin of your ass until you beg for him to stop.

“You’re so hard,” Wooyoung comments when San finally pulls his dick out, and your mouth waters at the sight. He is hard, long, and curved, and the prominent vein on the underside makes you want to trace your tongue on it until he’s writhing beneath you.

“Can you blame me? They look like an angel sitting on my lap.”

You’re obsessed with the way they talk about you as if you aren’t physically present, just a plaything for their use. Your fingers trace San’s dick, thumbing over the vein, and he squirms, growing harder at the touch.

“I need you. Right now.”

Wooyoung helps position you so you’re hovering right over him, and when San stares at you for confirmation, your heart swells. You nod, knowing you could never, ever say no to him, and he lowers you down, spearheading you on his dick.

It’s not like you’re a virgin, but the way San rearranges your insides makes you feel like you’re losing your virginity all over again. He’s big, too big, and as you lower yourself on him, every inch feels like your body is adjusting to accommodate his length. Even if Wooyoung prepared you enough, San’s size is something you know will take a while to get used to.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally find yourself flush against him, ass pressed against his chest and legs situated around his. You exhale, finding that you held your breath in for so long in anticipation, and only when you feel the slight pain slip away do you signal San that you’re ready.

He helps you out by holding onto your shaking thighs, lifting you off halfway before you slam back down again. The action makes you both gasp, and as you stare at Wooyoung, wide-eyed, you know he’s just as turned on as the both of you.

You quickly build up a rhythm with San’s help, bouncing on him as you desperately try to reach your high again. The praise he whispers into your ear only spurs you on, rutting against him like this is your lifeline.

“You fight around me so tight,” he gasps, “Squeezing me in like you need me. It’s like you were made to be here. For us.”

Wooyoung groans from the other end, and as you meet his eyes again, the sight makes you water. He has his hand shoved inside his pants, palming himself needily as he focuses on the two of you, and you watch as his dick strains against his pants and his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Wooyoung,” you pant, “let me help you.”

“What?” he sputters, coming to a stop as he registers your voice.

“I can fit two. There’s room for one more.”

You spread your legs open wider, and Wooyoung moans at the way your pussy swallows San whole.

“Are you sure?” San puffs against your ear, “You’re already so tight against me.”

“And I can be even tighter with the two of you.”

You clench around San to prove your point, and he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his noises.

“God, okay,” Wooyoung says, succumbing to his desires, “turn around.”

You lift yourself off of San, already whining at the lack of something inside you, but it’s not long before you perch yourself on all fours and San’s sliding into you again. This time, however, you feel a second dick prod at you, and you moan shamelessly into the room.

“You sure about this?” Wooyoung asks.

“Please. I need you,” you respond, sticking your ass out further, and that’s all it takes before Wooyoung slides into you.

Wooyoung is shorter than San, but thicker, and even though it hurts like hell at first, San working you open earlier helps you adjust easily to the feeling of two dicks inside of you.

“Have you guys ever done this before?” you ask, suddenly curious about whether this is a new experience for them too.

“Never. It’s always been you, baby. Only you,” San says, pulling out before slamming back in again.

The three of you moan, the feeling of San’s dick rocking right next to Wooyoung’s making you feel out of this world. Wooyoung goes next, a rougher stroke than San’s, and as they alternate and work you open, you don’t think you could ever go back to regular sex again.

“You look so pretty like this,” San starts, palming your ass.

“Being fucked like a hole for us to use,” Wooyoung continues, slapping your skin. The pain shocks you, and you squeeze around them tighter, something you didn’t even think was possible, but their vocal reactions to it spur you on even more. They thrust into you harder, alternating and then fucking into you all at once, to the point where you can’t even register their rhythm anymore and all you can focus on is the way they fill you up.

It doesn’t take long before the knot in your stomach tightens again, and based on their slightly less calculated thrusts, you know that they’re close too. Perceptive as always, San’s hands find your clit again, exactly what you need to let go.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whisper, your thighs shaking.

“Us too,” Wooyoung responds, wildly fucking into you to reach his high. “Let go for us, baby.”

With one more circle of San’s fingers, you spill over, milking their dicks in a neverending orgasm. They fuck you through it, and Wooyoung holds your waist so you don’t collapse on them.

“Close, pretty,” Wooyoung starts, “where do you want us?”

“Inside,” you plead, “right where you belong.”

San comes with a gasp, emptying into you, and his release triggers Wooyoung’s as he follows suit. They fuck into you until they can’t anymore, pulling out of you and watching their cum drip down your thighs.

San cleans you up with a towel, and Wooyoung leaves the room to return with a glass of water, something you’re thankful for because quite honestly, you’re spent after being used so maniacally like that.

You kiss each of them once you’re done, situated against the edge of the bed with the two of them next to you like always. Wooyoung lights a singular joint with the weed left, and you share the roll between the three of you.

“I love you,” you whisper after a few moments of silence, and you feel Wooyoung squeeze your thigh, “I always have. I don’t know what this means for us, but I know I need the two of you.”

“We feel the same way,” San says, kissing your cheek. “We can take it one step at a time. Just know it’s always been you, and it always will be.”

You watch as Wooyoung takes a hit of the joint, the smoke swirling until it disappears into thin air. He takes another puff, but this time, he pulls you close, kissing you as he exhales the smoke into your mouth. Your lungs burn from the heavy smoke, but Wooyoung’s lips are far too consuming to even focus on the pain as you kiss back.

“We can worry about all that later. In the future, because we have all the time in the world together. For now, though,” he starts, dragging you onto his lap once again in a sick, twisted, form of deja vu, “maybe we can worry about round two.”

And as Wooyoung kisses you again and San finds purchase against the small of your back, you realize that they’re absolutely right. You may not know what the future holds, but for now, you can just count on your weed besties boyfriends to help you take your mind off it.

#꣑୧ . . . juyofans #atzhouse #choi san x reader #choi san #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung smut #choi san smut #san #wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #woosan x reader #woosan

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lydiimae · 1 month

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Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

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peachesofteal · 7 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Two

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Medical inaccuracies, hospitals, medical procedures, medications, blood and injury, nurse!reader, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings of fear, anxiety. Panic attack. Implied past abuse. Implied stalking. Deep breath.

There is blood in Johnny's eyes.

He comes to with a start, Price’s voice barking out an order, pressure and flame and blood all washing over him, pain erupting across every receptor in his brain like he’s being shredded alive.

“Bloody hell, hold him steady.”

It’s still Price, roaring over the chop-chop-chop of the helicopter blades, bloodied hands trying to keep pressure on the hole in his stomach, his side.

It burns. Everything burns, his body feels like it’s on fire, bones turning to ash inside his skin, chest being torn apart by some invisible force. He can’t get enough air. There is something shoved inside his ribs, something heavy that’s weighing his lungs down, keeping him underwater, cinderblocks tied to his feet.

He tries to move, but he can’t.

Gaz is strapping him down to a stretcher, he thinks, and when he ratchets a strap across his legs, Johnny screams in agony.

“’m sorry mate, I’m sorry.”

Where is Simon? There are faces here, but none of them are the one he needs. His LT. “W-where is Si?” He slurs, and Price frowns, leaning back over his face, calling his name.

“Johnny, Johnny. Hold still. You’re on a medevac. We’re lifting you to base.”

“Si-“

“Simon isn’t here, remember? Johnny, oi. Keep your eyes open, Sergeant.” Remember? Does he remember? He tries. Tries to place his partner’s face amongst the rubble, the blast, the screaming.

Where is Simon?

Your coffee maker sputters to life in the silence of your apartment, churning out the dark, thick, life-giving liquid, and you can’t beat back the glare that fixes your face upwards towards your neighbors, the ones who are running a marathon in their apartment at three in the afternoon.

Seriously. Is there a herd of elephants up there?

You can’t be too disappointed in them, you know. It is normal working hours. Normal daytime hours. You don’t expect your neighbors to accommodate or understand your schedule. Still, it would be nice if they were just a bit more considerate.

It’s not the end of the world, regardless. You're up now, already started your day, crawled out of bed and opened the blackout curtains to stand in the afternoon sunlight that streams through your studio apartment. You flick open your laptop as sip your morning coffee, logging into your banking app with quick efficiency, eyes roving over lists of numbers, figures adding and subtracting in your head. You’re so close to being able to move forward with the plan, the light at the end of the tunnel growing stronger and stronger, glowing bright with hope, something that once felt so impossible, so far away. You're going to make it.

It’s a hike to the train.

You’re fortunate that you only have to take one, no longer having to change once, or twice, in the middle of your commute like you used to, but now you’re walking at least twelve blocks to get there, each way.

It makes you feel very exposed.

You keep your headphones in, hood of your jacket over your head, and move within throngs of people during the trek, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead, posture tilted just enough that you can watch the ground but still see in your peripheral. You don’t relax until you make it onto the platform, and even then, your head is on a swivel as you wait for the train to arrive, and you can melt into the mix of others. Seen, but not noticed.

Old habits die hard.

You swipe your card to proceed through the turnstile, cool metal sliding against your hands when you push forward onto the platform, settling against a pylon as you wait, flicking through the news with half interest.

The hair on the back of your neck rises.

Someone is watching you.

Your skin goes cold, ice beneath your jacket, and your lungs stutter with short breaths. Logically, you know you’re wrong. The faces that wait alongside you are not focused on anything but themselves, too busy staring at their own devices, tablets, readers, phones. A woman fidgets with a stroller, a man wearing headphones spits some corporate nonsense out loud, obnoxiously. You’ve already looked them over, too many times. He’s not here.

You lean against the tile, rocking your back into the grimy wall, fingers clutching against the edge of your phone. He’s not here. You’re safe. The dark of the tunnel mocks you, laughs with his voice, its circular opening growing teeth like his, ready to devour you, drag you back to hell, swallow you whole and keep you there.

He's not here. You’re safe. He doesn’t know where you are. Deep breath.

You breathe the words deep, counting the time of your inhales and exhales until the brakes of the train are squeaking and squealing to a stop, doors opening with a hiss. Everyone moves in tandem, an amoeba inching towards the same goal, get off, get on, and you go with it, pressing inside and shuffling towards the back, angling your body outwards, molded into a corner so tight your shoulders touch the walls of the train.

Deep breath.

“Hey, you’re early!” The nurse you’re relieving smiles brightly at you, blonde hair pulled high in a scrunchie, stickers all over her badge and ID.

“Yeah, wanted to get caught up on some admin stuff but I’ve got it, if you want to…” you motion with your head, the universal signal of ‘if you want to leave’ without saying it out loud, lest you jinx it, and the place goes to chaos in the next five minutes. She nods eagerly, launching into a run-down of your beds, who’s stable, who’s sedated, who’s still on a vent. “-and two sixty-eight is about to come down from the PACU.” Your stomach clenches with anxiety, and you check your watch.

“They took him when I left this morning…”

“Yeah, I guess there was a complication. Had to re-open his chest, put in a new tube. Poor guy, he’s battered all to shit. Did you see the scans of his femur? It’s literally in pieces.” She sighs. “His partner is in the surgical waiting room, told him the next shift nurse would come find him when he could come back to the room.” Your anxiety heightens, and an alarm bell goes off in the back of your mind as you think about Simon, pacing back and forth upstairs, and Johnny, alone in the PACU, probably coming out sedation, terrified. What is wrong with you?

“I hear those guys are like black ops or something.” Nia, the nurse who’s worked the last three rotations with you, comments over your shoulder as she drops her bag in the pit. You raise an eyebrow skeptically. Black ops? You shiver. “They air-lifted him from a military base that’s doesn’t even exist on a map. Cass and I checked.”

“Really?” The dayshifter perks up, interested, and you hold your hands out in caution.

“Okay, okay. Let’s not speculate.” You tap your number into the tablet, reading through charts and noting updates. A little green circle with an arrow through it blinks next to Johnny’s, signifying that he’s about to be moved. “Besides, he’s been through hell. Clearly. Let’s have a little, ya know. Respect?” They all cluck, rolling their eyes and groaning, but they shut up, and Nia gives you a little grin. You might not be the charge nurse, but you were the perma-night shifter on this floor, and the one with the most seniority in this moment.

“Alright, well. You got this?” Dayshift asks, and you wave her off.

“Goodnight.”

“You’re the best. Bye ladies!”

Simon is easy to find. He’s wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, black cloth mask still covering half his face, hoodie pulled up over his head. He looks less exhausted, but no less anxious, dark circles still present under his eyes, body language tense. He looks… scared.

He spots you just as easily, shooting to his feet when he sees you coming, hands clenched together in anticipation, and you motion to the chair, placing yourself next to him, turning slightly to ensure you’re giving him your undivided attention.

He shifts in the seat, legs spreading out against the stiff frame, and his knee bumps yours, warmth radiating beneath denim bleeding into your scrubs. If he notices or cares about the contact, he doesn't say anything, only blinks at you in anticipation. His head tilts before you start speaking, and your skin heats when you realize he’s looking you over, eyes tracing you from head to toe before pinning you in place with a focused scrutiny.

“Has anyone come to speak with you?” You ask, silently hoping that the surgeon actually did the last part of his job, and didn’t neglect the family member in waiting room, the one who’s holding their breath as every second ticks by.

Simon nods. “They said there was a complication with his lungs?”

“They had to plate his ribs. It will give the bleed in his chest a better chance at healing, help keep him stable. They also replaced his chest tube.” His brow furrows, and you pause. Maybe visualization will help. “Do you want to see?” You tap on the tablet, bringing up Johnny’s last imaging, scrolling through the pictures to show Simon what it looks like, pointing out the before and after CT of his chest, explaining the white vs grey spaces on the image. Simon studies it, taking the tablet in his hand, fingers tracing over the screen reverently, carefully, like he's touching Johnny himself. An ocean’s worth of emotions reflects in his gaze, despair, sadness, grief- all sitting just on the edge, nearly ready to spill over. Your heart skips a beat.

“Can I see him?”

“He’s coming down from the post-surgery unit now. I’ll have to get him resettled in his room, but I promise as soon as I can, I’ll come get you.” He twitches in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck before he huffs out something that sounds like ‘okay’, and you give him one more small smile with your ‘see you soon’.

Johnny is conscious when he comes up from the PACU, barely. His vitals look good, temperature, blood pressure, heart rate all in target ranges, and he’s due for another round of pain medication.

"Hey, Johnny." You smile down at him, sliding the lock on his bed in place and reattaching his leads carefully, gentle enough so you don't jostle him too much.

"Hi, pretty girl." He slurs, and you chuckle, instinctively rolling your eyes before patting his good hand.

“Came out of sedation fine, but he’s been a bit emotional.” The PACU nurse warns you, eyes soft with sympathy when she glances at him in the bed. “He’s asking for his partner, I think. Simon?”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” You scan the post op notes, hitting all the important things, logging his last vitals check so you can administer his meds. The incision in his chest has been reopened, and then closed, and his lower body is completely immobilized in the bed, his hip pinned, femur delicately pieced back together with a plethora of plates and screws, so many you think it’s probably more metal than bone now. “How are you feeling?" You ask, heart tugging a bit at the hopelessness in his eyes. “Ready to get some more sleep?” He groans a response, words jumbled together and cracking into a sob that has tears trickling down his cheeks.

“Si..”

“He’s not back yet.” You try to explain gently, grabbing an extra blanket to put over the scaffolding around his leg. “Once I get you settled, we’ll bring him up, okay?”

“H-hurts.” He cries, vibrant blue eyes finding yours, scared, and desperate. “It h-hurts.” He’s openly crying now, shoulders starting to shake, and the monitor chimes at you, registering an increase in heart rate and blood pressure.

“I know. I know it does.” You clean his port, tracking the uptick in numbers on the screen. “Hey, hey. Shhh, it’s okay.” You try to calm him as you flush the line, pushing the saline from the side of the bed. “You’re alright. We’re almost,” You administer the medication easily, counting in your head, replacing it with another saline before reattaching his fluids line, all of the motions so second nature that it allows you keep your focus on him. “there.”

You expect him to calm down. Most patients do, but his heart rate continues to tick upwards, and his respirations don’t decrease, lungs heaving against the fresh sutures in his chest. His hand, the good one, skates across your elbow and down your forearm to grab a hold of you, fingers gripped onto yours tightly, like he’s afraid you might let go.

“It’s alright, Johnny. You’re okay.” His eyes don’t leave your face, his own jaw slack, pain meds coursing through his system. He's frightened, big blue eyes wide and anxious, and you squeeze his hand, stroking your thumb across his knuckles. “Deep breath.” You see patients upset, in pain, all the time. It’s an everyday part of your job. Even the hand holding is a necessary, frequent part of your profession.

But with Johnny, something feels different.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, just try to relax. Take some long breaths- good. That’s good.” You soothe him, rubbing soft touches into his skin. His head is turned to where you’re standing next to the bed, chest still heaving, and he winces with each exhale. “It’s just the last of the sedation, it can make you a little out of sorts. The pain meds are going to kick in real soon.” You reach over, and press the call button, twice. You can feel the pressure, the burn of his attention, his unwillingness to look away from you, and you hum out the softest words you can find, encouraging him to take calm, deep breaths.

When Nia appears, she frowns. “Everything alright?”

“Hey, yes. Could you do us a favor and go up to the surgical waiting room? Johnny’s partner Simon, is waiting to be told he can come down.” She looks from you to him, reading the situation just as you would if the roles were reversed.

“Got it.” She makes her exit, fast, and Johnny gulps, still staring up at you with bright, wet, blue eyes.

“See? She’s going to get him. Everything’s alright.” He nods, barely, starting to succumb to the medication, and you exhale, letting out some of the tension from the last few minutes.

Simon comes through the door in a whirlwind, and you immediately raise your free hand, palm out, to slow his hurried panic.

“He’s okay.” You point to where Johnny is still clutching onto you. “He was still in a fair amount of pain when he came down, and coming out of sedation can be disorientating. I think he panicked a little when he realized you weren’t here.” He nods silently, taking his place bedside, towering over both you and Johnny, leaning past you to brush his lips against Johnny's forehead in a sweet, smooth kiss.

"I'm here, sweet boy." He murmurs, voice so low you barely catch it. You step back, pulling your grasp from Johnny's, but he tightens his fingers, grip stronger than you anticipated, and you stop mid step, glancing to his partner. “I got him.” Simon reaches for where the two of you are connected, sliding his own hand overtop yours, replacing the contact before holding Johnny's hand whole. He’s so careful, lowering himself into the chair, carefully holding onto Johnny until he’s seated, bringing his palm to his mask covered lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Si.”

“I’m here Johnny. Rest.”

“Ye weren’t there.” He croaks, and Simon’s eyes shutter with a long inhale.

“I know.”

“Ah needed-“ He loses the words, dazed in a swirl of semi-consciousness. “was scared.” Simon strokes some of the hair that’s in disarray away from his forehead, smoothing his thumb back and forth above his eyebrow.

“Shhh, everything’s alright now. I’m here.”

The chair in supply closet 2b knows you well. It’s an old thing, something pulled from a patient room once it was deemed too squeaky, and too uncomfortable, shoved in here to be discarded at some point in the future.

That was months ago.

Now, it sits in a dark little corner, plastic packages of disposable PPE and gowns littered on top of it in a heap, excess supply with no place to live. Everyone takes turns in it, shifting whatever it happens to be holding that day onto the ground and settling in for what some could call a break, brief moments that could last seconds or minutes, quick opportunities to get off your feet and most importantly, not have to speak or be spoken to, for an indeterminate amount of time.

This is usually where you hide when you need a second. When there’s a lull, and the pit is full of nurses, techs, students or whoever else may have downtime, talking and laughing together, building relationships, getting to know one another. Making friends. It's a small luxury at work, to have that time, those friendships.

Luxuries someone who wants to be seen, but not noticed, not known, does not have.

You close your eyes, head tipped back against the chair.

It’s okay to be alone. You can do this. Deep breath.

Your mind floats to two sixty-eight, to Simon and Johnny. What is it like, to be loved like that? To be so fiercely cared for? Johnny’s teary, blue eyes and Simon’s soft, loving regard for him makes your stomach flip. You didn’t even know love like that was real. The only taste of love you’ve ever had left ash in your mouth, poison in your veins, and deep, deep scars across your body and soul that you’ll never be free of.

Deep breath.

Your work phone and the tablet both start to beep, a shrill noise that makes you wince, muscle memory of what it indicates making you leap from the chair.

The screen shows a red flashing symbol next to room two sixty-eight.

Johnny.

“He’s tachycardic.” You tell the tech who’s fumbling with the phone, firing off a rapid text message to the on-call for this floor. You hold Johnny’s forehead still with the heel of your hand, using a finger to flick open his eyelids one by one, flashing the pen light across his pupils. “Pupils are dilated, BP is elevated- no call him- call him right now. Do what I said, I don’t care what he told you.” You bark, glancing up at where Simon is frozen across the bed from you, grip so tight against the rail that you think it might break.

“Simon-“ He cuts you off, but you’re half paying attention to him, too busy checking the site of Johnny’s chest tube, and then moving onto the dressing on his lower abdomen, ensuring it doesn’t feel scalding to the touch.

“He was fine. He was just… sleepin' and then-“ You move around the bed, pulling the oxygen tube longer, replacing the cannula with a mask.

“Simon, I need you to step out.” You press two buttons on the machine, ensuring it’s on high flow, door sliding open with Nia’s arrival.

“No.” His refusal is steadfast.

“Simon, hey.” He lurches closer to Johnny, and on instinct, you reach out and grab his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes are wild, bleak with anguish, and his chest heaves heavily, panic radiating from his massive form. “Listen to me, listen. I’m here. I’ve got him, alright? But there are about to be five other people in this room, and we can’t work if you’re in the way.” You speak firmly, clearly, trying to get your point across as the door opens again, and the on-call attending is standing on the other side. Simon glances from him, back to you, and you nod reassuringly, swallowing the lump in your throat that forms when he latches onto your own arm, squeezing it tight. “He’s in good hands.” You tell him, nodding to the tech that’s waiting to usher him towards the hallway.

He keeps his eyes trained on Johnny, before they flick over to where you’re lowering the bed completely flat, free hand on his bicep, thumb rubbing a small semi-circle into his skin, just like you watched Simon do last night, and earlier today. He swallows, endless depths of desperation welling in his eyes, and you take a deep breath, imbuing your voice with all the strength you have.

“I’ve got him. I promise.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #ghoap x reader #ghoap #simon riley #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #female reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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ghost-1-y · 7 months

Text

Sacrifice

Surtr!Kyojuro x AFAB!Worshipper!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, masturbation (Kyo), getting caught masturbating (Kyo), knotting, Kyojuro is in heat, Kyo has a massive breeding kink, lactation kink (Kyo loves your titties), size kink, pregnancy kink, pregnancy (at the end), using horns as handles, implied belly bulging, mommy kink (reader referred to as both “mommy” and “mother”), love confessions at the very end, douma being an asshole, incorrect interpretation of norse mythology, reader is given as a human sacrifice to Kyo, mentions of animal sacrifice, reader referred to as “pretty girl” sometimes, please lmk if I missed anything!

Summary: The legends stated that the mighty fire giant would one day bring about the beginnings of Ragnarok and engulf the world in flames. You had been told of these prophecies since childhood and were a firm believer in appeasing the proclaimed Ruler of Fire through worship and sacrifice – just as you had been taught by the village elders since you were a mere child. What you didn’t expect, however, was for the village to turn their back on you and suggest that what would be needed would be a human sacrifice to appease the giant once and for all.

Word Count: ~6k

Divider Credit: @/benkeibear

A/N: So sorry this took so long!! I've had a mess of a week so far. I hope the fic is worth the wait! Apologies for any spelling or grammatical errors (I tried my best).

A fire blazed in the heart of the village, crackling with embers floating gracefully and smoke ebbing above the tallest of houses – its heat a sharp contrast to the bitter cold of the autumn night. Members of the village surrounded the bonfire, sitting with their families as they feasted, bellies full with the meat stew that was provided for them. A single bowl was left untouched amongst each family – a welcoming invitation for the dead to engage in the festivities that were part of Vetrnætr.

As chieftain, you engaged with the families, wishing them good health and happiness as they did the same for you, before engaging in sumbel with them as you poured wine onto the grass below.

“Freyr will be most pleased by your worship.”

In a way of parting from families, you’d praise their good faith before moving on to the next family. The smiles were abundant amongst the villagers, and, once you’d made your way fully around the bonfire, you removed your sword from your scabbard and raised it high into the air.

“Today we celebrate, and are thankful to the god Freyr for a wonderful harvest. Please join me in this sacrifice, in order to show our thanks to the deities of all the Nine Realms.”

However, before you could commit to the sacrifice – the poor lamb that was before you – a cold hand gripped at your shoulder, which made you turn in confusion.

“Perhaps I should tell you, before you engage in such an act, that the priest has some… concerns,” the man – Enmu you believed his name was – whispered. You sighed and sheathed your sword once more, your blood beginning to boil as you’d wondered what he could possibly want in the middle of the village’s celebration.

You trudged your way through the temple that resided on the outskirts of the village. The door creaked open as you walked through, and before you sat the village priest, who sat on a cushion made of feathers and animal skin. He upturned his lips upon seeing you, yet it wasn’t a true smile.

You knew he didn’t know how to, after all.

“Ah! My lovely Chieftain,” Douma drawled, “such a beautiful night to celebrate Vetrnætr, isn’t it? Although, I doubt that Freyr will grant you the beauty or fertility needed to continue your lineage this upcoming year, truly a shame,” he said, faking a pout.

You fought the urge to ball your fists. The village elders, and, apparently now the village priest as well, had been pressing you for a child – particularly a son – however, despite many suitors attempting to lay their claim to the throne, and therefore you, none had been successful.

Despite this jab, you maintained composure, “what do you need from me, Douma? You’ve interrupted the sacrifice.” You stared him down, and he forced a small laugh.

“Oh my, a harsh tongue doesn’t suit you, dear Chief” he sneered, “You see, I have become aware of some rather concerning events – ones surrounding Ragnarök in particular,” he paused, observing you for any kind of reaction, “unfortunately, it seems Surtr has traveled from Muspelheim to Midgard.”

Your eyes widened, “how would he be able to do such a thing? He isn’t a deity–”

“–ah, but he is a jötunn, and therefore would have the ability to travel between the realms,” Douma countered, “did you never pay attention to my lessons during your youth?”

You rolled your eyes, “you speak as though we do not dedicate sacrifices to him with each solstice. You know appeasing his anger is one of my most steadfast beliefs.”

Douma hummed, “well, it appears that you did not follow through with this past solstice, my dear Chieftain – rather dedicating it to Freyr than to Surtr – and, to be completely honest, I am quite disappointed in that fact.”

The door shut behind you, and two warriors stood on either side of you. You grabbed the hilt of your sword, sensing distrust in the air.

“Do you know, Chieftain, what would be required to adequately appease the Ruler of Fire?”

You pulled out your sword and swung at the warrior on your right, an attack which was quickly blocked by his own weapon. You landed a kick to the left one’s stomach, only for it to be trapped in an unwavering grip by the warrior’s arms. You attempted to swing your sword at him in retaliation, only for your arm to also be grabbed by the one on your right.

Douma stood up and walked towards you, gripping your chin – the cold of his skin causing you to wince.

“A proper, human sacrifice.”

A blow landed to the back of your neck, and your vision faded to black.

—

You awoke to a chill that laid upon your skin, feeling as though you were made of ice rather than of flesh. You were completely bare, lying on a wooden floor of what you presumed to be the priest’s sacred temple, as your vision was fully obstructed by a cloth which wrapped around your eyes. Upon moving your arms – which were thankfully in front of you and not behind, you noticed that your wrists were also bound by rope to prevent you from making any potential escape from Douma’s clutches.

Outside, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door swung open – causing you to flinch at the loud creak that sounded from it. A rough hand grabbed at your arm and pulled you up to your feet, forcing you outside where you heard murmurs of villagers on either side of you. Your cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment, the idea of your beloved villagers seeing you in such a state bringing tears to your eyes in pure shame.

“All of you, please say your final goodbyes to our beloved Chieftain – for she has volunteered to become the sacrifice that will appease Surtr and end his threats of Ragnarök!”

You couldn’t hear the cheers of your people over your pulse pounding in your ears, completely helpless as you were all but dragged along the dirt and gravel pathway before being placed on a horse. A faint rustling could be heard before you felt a rope tied around your neck.

“Be careful not to fall off, my dear Chieftain, lest your neck snap as you’re dragged along the rugged terrain by your horse,” Douma whispered to you before saddling himself onto a separate horse, and you could only assume that this rope was also tied to the horse in some way, thus forcing you to go wherever Douma led you.

You begrudgingly held tight against the horse’s mane as it went into a trot, the wind blowing harshly against your naked skin as the voices of the villagers slowly faded away, replaced by the clopping of hooves as you traversed to a place unfamiliar.

The horses did not stop, and you could only tell the passage of time as the cool of night gave way to the blazing heat of the sun that seared itself into your back. Hours must have passed, and your muscles grew sore the longer you traveled.

At some point, the horses slowed, and the sun’s heat was obstructed by a shadow which loomed above you. Again, a faint rustling could be heard before you were taking off of the horse’s back – yet the rope stayed wrapped around your neck, yet it was no longer taut if you tried pulling away from the horse’s body. You were dragged into the cool shadow, before a hand gripped at your hair.

“Such a shame you never produced a son,” Douma muttered into your ear, “you wouldn’t have to die if you were nice and fertile, my dear Chieftain.”

You could only imagine the nasty grin on his face as he pushed you forward, causing you to lose your footing and fall what could’ve been roughly two meters before hitting solid rock. You heard laughter above you before it started to fade away.

Luckily, the fall seemed to loosen the cloth which covered your eyes, allowing you to see out of one of them, yet you doubted it would be of much help as you got your bearings and realized that you were indeed alone in a dark cave, being left to starve and rot as a form of sacrifice to Surtr.

You decided, that if you were going to die anyway, that you’d at least explore the cave you were pushed into.

It was dark, yet not damp, the stone beneath you as dry as the walls that surrounded you, and you wondered if the sun somehow reached its way into the depths of this cave to evaporate the moisture. There was no life, not a single lizard or insect to be seen – although a few animal bones would be strewn about here and there as you continued your descent further into the cave.

You traversed further, being careful to not trip over any rocks or pitfalls. After what seemed to be an hour of exploration, you saw the tiniest spark of light in the distance.

Perhaps a way out? You thought, and walked closer to this flickering light, and the rather narrow tunnel you were in gave way to a large cavern – with a large bonfire in the middle, one much larger than the one in your village during the celebration of Vetrnætr.

Unlike the blazing heat of the sun from earlier, the warmth of the bonfire was comforting, with its orange hue flickering along the walls of the cavern.

As you got closer, you heard the slightest shifting from the other side of the cavern, followed by what could only be described as a low growl. You froze, unsure of how to proceed in front of a potential predator with nothing to defend yourself with. You slowly crouched and walked towards the bonfire, and, despite your hands being tied, managed to pick up one of the smaller logs on the outer ring of the fire before dousing the tip of it in flames – a weapon, should you need to use it.

As you slowly walked around the bonfire, you found a rather peculiar sight – realizing that the growl did not come from the likes of an animal.

But who– or what was before you was certainly not human.

The being before you was huge, possibly even a jötunn. You were never one to doubt your beliefs, but the idea that a creature from another realm was before your very eyes was difficult to swallow. However, from what you could remember from your religious texts, a jötunn is the only creature you could bring yourself to categorize it as.

The creature had large, curved horns that were sizable in their girth, and its tusks – not fangs – emerged up from its lower jaw. What’s more, it had pointed ears on either side of its head which emerged through hair resembling that of fire, locks that matched the finest gold and ruby gemstones that would cost a fortune in your village.

Unlike the face, its body looked quite human – although its very naked form boasted large, dense muscles throughout its entire body, and a cock that made you swallow absentmindedly from just how threatening its size was.

The creature was stroking its girth, thumbing itself over the leaking slit – a slight shudder escaping from its throat. It started to fuck itself into its grip, thrusting quickly as though chasing its release. Its other hand was fondling its balls – which looked heavy and full of seed, before having its hand move slightly upward towards the slightly swollen base of its cock, softly massaging it to seemingly ease the tension it caused.

Fully flushed with embarrassment, you backed away from the creature before you, each step seemingly calculated in order to escape this situation.

Is the creature sentient? It seems to be humanoid– does that mean it can think like a human? What if it’s a predator and kills me?

Thoughts rushed through your mind, seemingly going into a frenzy as you worried about potential outcomes of this situation.

Crack!

In your panic, you managed to step on a stray twig that managed to stray from the center of the bonfire.

The creature stopped its movements, and immediately turned its head to the source of the sound.

Its amber and crimson eyes opened and glared into yours.

“F-Fuck—!”

With one glance over your naked form, the creature before you released its seed, spilling it all over its fist and shaft, with the remaining drops dribbling onto its lower abdomen. It continued to slowly rub its fist up and down its length, closing its eyes as it played with its tip up until the last of its cum dribbled out from the slit, before tensing and looking back at you, eyes widening in shock – as though it couldn’t believe you were actually there.

“I’m sorry!” the creature exclaimed, a blush so red blooming across its cheeks that it seemingly felt the same amount of embarrassment as you. It hastily wiped itself clean on the furred animal skin it was laying upon. “I– I can explain, really– just– who are you? Why are you here?”

You were in shock, so much so that you couldn’t even eke out a full sentence. Your eyes drifted down to its cock once more, which – much to your surprise – was still standing incredibly tall and proud as it curved up towards the creature’s stomach. Heat prickled across your cheeks and down your chest as the fiery-haired being used its hands to cover itself up in front of you – sensing that you might be uncomfortable from bearing witness to such an event.

This is ridiculous, you thought, you are the Chieftain of your village – compose yourself!

“I am Y/N, leader of my village and child of a family of famed warriors,” you introduced yourself.

The creature raised an eyebrow to you in response.

“And what exactly brings a village leader into my cave?”

You hesitated, humiliation flooding your veins even more so than before.

“I– I was overthrown by the village priest and have been made a sacrifice to Surtr, the Ruler of Fire.”

You expected laughter from the jötunn before you, closing your eyes to hide whatever dignity you had left from what Douma stripped from you. However, instead of hearing a cacophony of hearty noises from the creature’s throat, you instead heard the thud of footsteps approaching you.

Slowly, the jötunn reached forward and removed the bandages which obstructed your vision, loosening and pulling them away with his large fingers, careful to not touch you unnecessarily in the process.

Your eyes widened as you looked up at the giant, his eyes surprisingly kind as he looked down at you. He bunched the bandages in his hands before tossing them to the side, then continued untie the ropes that were digging into your wrists and cast them aside as well.

“If what you say is true, please inform your village that I do not take human sacrifices.”

Your heart seemed to have traveled up to your throat, its beats both fast and fluttery.

“That would imply that I could go back– wait, what are you talking about?”

Then, the creature did finally let out a laugh – a small chuckle that rose from his chest and was deep and bassy as it rose through his throat.

“My dear human, I am the one you people refer to as Surtr.”

You stopped, instinctively stepping back – away from the creature that just claimed to be the harbinger of destruction – the one to bring flames that will engulf all nine realms and Yggdrasil itself.

You did what you believed best, and forced your body to the rocky floor of the cave, bowing in absolute submission and respect for such a being – nearly cowering in the presence of such raw power presented before you.

“Stand up, please, there’s no need for that here.”

You looked up at the being before you, rather confused by his words.

He sighed, “you humans have beliefs of me that are so far from the truth, it’s saddening.”

A pause, the only sound in the cavern being the crackling of the wood against flames.

“My real name is Kyojuro, the name ‘Surtr’ is a title bestowed upon me that I did not wish to receive. I am not going to harm you or your village, I do not wish for such evil. Whatever “priest” thought that a human sacrifice would appease this nonexistent will of mine is, to put simply, a fool.”

You let out a shaky breath, and he reached out his hand – one that dwarfed your own – toward you.

“Stand up.”

He was smiling as you took his hand, with a gaze that was comforting and kind as he sent sparks through your skin with his touch.

The prickling heat returned to your cheeks.

“I’ll help you get back to your village,” he promised.

You froze, your heartbeat quickening once more as you registered his words.

“I can’t– please, I can’t go back, not after what they did to me,” you started, preparing yourself to beg and plead this god-like creature for mercy.

Kyojuro frowned, “I understand, but I can’t keep you here. You need to leave, I– I can’t have you stay.”

You knew it was selfish, to leave your people in the hands of Douma, but after what he did to you– after how he humiliated you.

Where the fire in your village was scalding, his was warm. Where those treated you with indifference or malice, he had been nothing but kind.

Was it really worth going back?

“I’d like to stay,” you decided.

Kyojuro stopped, each and every second becoming more and more difficult for the jötunn. Every passing moment he ignored his very obvious problem, he became this much closer to just bending you over and taking you like a wild animal. His blood was hot in his veins, and fire licked at his lower abdomen, pleasure bubbling once more to the surface as he continued to endure his heat.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, human,” he warned. He was using every ounce of his willpower in order to maintain his composure. His heat was going to near its peak soon, and he needed you away from him before that happened. He came to Midgard to weather it alone in his cave, and you were only making it all the more difficult.

“Kyojuro,” you uttered softly, and the creature before you let out a low growl, “will you let me stay if I…help?”

His cock twitched, precum dribbling slowly out of the tip, with the base of it swelling up once more.

“I don’t want you to try and sell yourself to me as though you’re a piece of meat. I–” he swallowed, “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t allow you to do that.”

“Kyojuro, I want to help you. I want this,” you assured, and he balled his hands into fists, as though the rope holding him together was about to snap.

“Y/N–” he warned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Please, fuck me, Kyojuro.”

The jötunn grabbed your arm, “if– if we are to do this, you must know that I am in heat, and I–” he swallowed, “I may not be able to control myself should we continue.”

You took your hand and brushed your fingers across his tightened grip, causing slight shivers to flow down his spine.

“Lose control, Kyojuro, I can take it.”

He groaned, and with his strength, picked you up and collided his lips with yours. Your hands sought either side of his face, kissing back with fervor as he moaned into your mouth. His tusks surprisingly didn’t obstruct your access to his mouth, and every once in a while he’d nip at your bottom lip, before laving his tongue over the swollen skin and pushing it into your mouth. You let out a small moan at the intrusion, and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his wild, fiery hair.

His grip on your body moved from your hips back towards your ass, cupping and massaging the muscle with his hands. His cock was stiff against your inner thigh, the precum spreading along your skin with each small movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning as his cock slipped between your legs and along your slit – the sheer girth of it a little worrisome as it pressed against your heat.

“Shit– so big, Kyojuro, hah–” you panted, and he growled.

“Never had cock this big before, have you? Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get you nice and ready to take me.”

He shifted your weight onto one of his arms, the muscles flexing as he shifted his other hand beneath you. Two of his fingers started rubbing along your clit, making small circular motions as his other hand groped at the fat of your ass. He lifted you up a little more so his mouth was in line with your breasts and pursed his lips around one of your perked up tits, sucking at it and licking broad stripes with his tongue. He groaned around your tit as he played with your pussy, reveling in how wet you were for him already. The mini vibrations sent electricity down your spine, and you moved your head to rest on his broad shoulder, giving small kisses to his neck as you whined from his ministrations.

“Lips feel so good, dear, love it when you kiss me like that,” he sighed, giving kisses to each of your breasts, “want to apologize for my earlier…release, you were just so beautiful…seeing you all naked ‘n presenting for me like that…made me want to breed you, pretty girl,” Kyojuro confessed, causing you to shiver as he softly whispered such filthy thoughts into your ear.

“Mmh– don’t apologize, Kyo– liked watchin’ you,” you admitted, and he let out a light chuckle, which made you lightly slap his rocky chest. He responded by giving a small bite to your breast, before licking it better with his skilled tongue.

“Yeah? You like the idea of me wanting to breed you? Getting you pregnant with my young?” he asked, his fingers moving from your clit down towards your entrance, where he inserted a single thick digit into your heat. You whined as your pussy clenched around the intrusion, and nodded in response, licking a stripe up his neck before kissing back down it again.

His finger thrust into you, curling against that one sensitive area inside of you as his thumb reached for and played with your clit. The moans that you let out echoed throughout the cavern, with the only other sounds being the shlick of Kyojuro’s finger deep in your cunt and the crackling of flames. After a while, he added a second digit, and slowly but surely worked you towards your peak, the tension slowly building up in your gut.

With one last swipe against your clit with his thumb, you came undone, your orgasm causing you to shudder and whine in his hold as he worked you through it, curling his fingers and rubbing your clit as you rode out each wave.

“Kyo–” you moaned, trying to grind your hips down on his fingers, and he smiled before meeting your lips in a heated kiss. He continued thrusting his fingers up into your now weeping cunt, prepping you nice and good to take his much thicker cock.

He walked back toward his makeshift bed – a pile of furs and animal skins which he must’ve collected prior to his heat – and gently placed you down on top of them. His large hands moved down your thighs, rubbing softly up and down your plush skin as he stared at the slick between your legs. He lowered himself between your thighs and inhaled deeply as he tried desperately to memorize your scent. He licked a stripe up your slit, causing you to jolt at the sensation, and moaned as your taste spread over his tongue like honey.

You squirmed underneath his touch, which made him hold your hips in place as he started to devour you. His tongue flicked over your clit before collecting more of your juices on his tongue. Your hands found his horns and gripped them tightly, pushing his head further between your thighs, earning a groan from Kyojuro. He pursed his lips and sucked at your clit before licking at it in circular motions, moving his hand between your legs again and pushing two digits inside your cunt once more, thrusting in and out of your hole with his fingers. After adding a third finger, he started curling his fingers into that one spot again, his movements quick and deft as he brought you to your second orgasm.

You moaned loudly as you came undone, legs shaking as your grip on his horns tightened, trying your best to buck your hips up into his face as he lapped up all of the juices that seeped out of your pussy. Only when you were able to open your eyes once more did you look down to see Kyojuro humping himself onto the fur pelts as he messily gathered the rest of your release onto his tongue.

“Kyo– please, I need you,” you whined, and he looked up at you with a fire ignited in his eyes. He got up, stroking his thick cock as he looked down upon your much smaller form.

“Get on all fours for me.”

Without hesitation, you rolled over and got on your hands and knees. Kyojuro kneeled behind you and placed his cock in between your wet folds, rubbing the tip up and down as his precum mixed with your juices. He shuddered before slowly pushing the head inside, causing you to tense slightly from how big the intrusion was.

“Relax for me, won’t you?” he asked softly.

You tried your best to relax, and he started to push more of his length inside of you, filling you up more than you ever thought possible. For a moment, he stayed like that, relishing in the feeling of your cunt tightly wrapped around his throbbing cock, his hips flush against your ass as you whined for him to move, please.

“Let me have this moment, dear, I– I haven’t felt something this wonderful in centuries,” he confessed, and you let out a soft mewl before complying with what he wanted.

After a few more moments, his cock dragged out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He rocked into you, slowly at first, which was most likely for the better considering how huge he was. He growled as he thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he reached underneath you to hold your stomach, pressing up slightly as he fully fucked his cock into you.

“Shit– you feel that, pretty girl? Feel my cock deep inside you?” he groaned, and you nodded helplessly, letting out a whine as he continued his movements. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so fuckin’ tight f’ me.”

You choked out another moan as he started increasing his speed, his groans becoming more frequent with each thrust. Kyojuro took his hand and gently tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

“Won’t last much longer, pretty girl,” he leaned down and kissed you, “gonna pull out, promise.”

You whined, “no– please, need your cum, Kyo– need it inside.”

He moaned loudly, “you have no idea what you’re asking of me, pretty. You’d end up taking my knot–”

“I want your knot, Kyo! Please give it to me–!”

Kyojuro thrust even harder into your sopping cunt upon hearing that, “fuck, you want my knot? I’ll get you fucking pregnant, fill you up with my young ‘n get your belly all swollen, you sure you want that?”

“Yes! Please Kyo–! Please–”

With a couple last thrusts, Kyojuro shot his seed inside of you, thick ropes painting your insides white and filling you up to the brim. You moaned as you felt the warmth spread deep inside of your cunt, and, before his release could begin to seep out of your pussy, a burning stretch began inside your abused hole. Realizing this is what Kyojuro meant by his knot, you tried to look behind you to catch sight of his cock seemingly expanding inside of your pussy, keeping his cum nicely plugged inside of you.

Kyojuro was panting, his voice rough as he pulled you up onto his lap.

“Good fuckin’ girl, taking my knot so well.” He looked down at your chest as you sat in his lap, his cock still rock hard and throbbing inside your wet cunt.

“Can’t wait to see these breasts filled with milk, gonna be such a good mommy, aren’t you?” he said before taking one of your tits in his mouth and sucking at it, as though he were trying to get you to produce milk already for him, and eventually his young, to feed on.

“Kyo, I– I’m sorry, but I’m not fertile, I– I’ve never been able to produce an heir with another man,” you sighed, and his eyes looked up to meet yours. “I’m really sorry, it’s why I was thrown down here in the first place” you continued, hoping your words wouldn’t anger him.

Instead of becoming angry, he simply placed you back down on the fur pelts and brought your legs up towards your shoulders so that you were folded completely in half. He then crouched over you, keeping you locked in a mating press with him.

“I’m no simple man, my dear human,” he kissed your lips, “if I say I will breed you and fill you with my young–” he paused, thrusting deeply into your cunt.

“–I mean every single word.”

Kyojuro started fucking into you with renewed fervor, his stamina seemingly having increased despite already releasing inside of you once. His cock reached deeper inside of you, and you could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. Every single thrust of his hips had you a whining mess, taking his knot until your pussy molded into the shape of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, take it all,” he groaned before pressing his mouth to yours once more. His tongue plunged past your lips – prompting you to suck on it, causing him to fall over the edge again, his hips stilling as he pumped a second load of cum into your needy cunt. You whined as he didn’t stop – continuing to fuck into your abused cunt despite cumming twice, his cock still stiff and leaking with every thrust. You felt his seed sloshing around in your womb, feeling so incredibly full by both his cum and his fat cock.

“Mine,” he growled while pumping himself into you, “you’re fucking mine.”

You could only nod and whine in response, having been completely fucked dumb by his cock.

“Pregnant.” He pummeled his cock deep into your cunt, “getting you pregnant. Fuck. Gonna have a round belly filled with my young, tits swelling with milk, I’ll keep you here – gonna be the mother to my children, gonna treat mommy so well, hunt for you, protect you, everything you could ever want.”

You moaned, your cunt clenching around his cock upon listening to his promises.

“Wan’ it,” you managed, “wan’ to be a good mommy so– fuck– so bad.”

Kyojuro groaned, his cock twitching inside of you as it swelled even more. “Can’t stop thinking of my young suckling on your breasts, tits producing so much milk that all of them have their fill– shit, gonna cum again, gonna fill you up– fuck!”

He spilled into you once more, filling your cunt up completely with his seed, ensuring that it takes, making good on his promise. His fingers flicked at your clit and your own orgasm came crashing down around you, pure euphoria flowing through your veins as you let out a silent scream from the seemingly endless waves of pleasure addling your mind.

Kyojuro rolled over and had you collapse on top of him, his arms reaching around your torso and holding you close.

“Did you mean what you said? About wanting to stay?” he whispered, slight insecurity being carried through his tone.

You gave him a quick peck to his lips, “yes, Kyojuro, you– you’ve been so kind to me, much more than anyone else in that damned village. I’d love to stay with you.”

He smiled softly at you, his eyes glowing with warmth as he cradled your head into his neck, petting at your hair as the two of you fell asleep next to the flickering bonfire.

—

A few months had passed, and you were waiting for your lover to return from his hunt. He had promised a large meal today, and you were excited to see what he had planned for the two of you.

You rubbed your baby bump as you cozied up next to the fire, resting in a heap of animal furs which acted as bedding for the two of you. You were surprised to find out that you were pregnant, but Kyojuro had sensed it about a month after you two had first met, and proceeded to treat you as though every step you took turned the rocks beneath your feet into gold.

The bump was rather large for only being a few months in, and your breasts were already swelling and leaking with milk, but Kyojuro had told you that it was normal – considering that his young would be half-jötunn. He quelled your fears of labor, saying that he would help you in every way that he possibly could when it came time to have the baby.

After a few hours, Kyojuro came back to the cavern, carrying your meal over his shoulder.

“How is my love doing?” he asked with the biggest smile on his face, causing you to giggle as you attempted to get up to greet him. Kyojuro rushed over to you, ensuring that you don’t so much as lift a finger while carrying his young. He leaned down and gave you a soft kiss before dragging your meal to the bonfire and beginning to cook it.

“Mmh– Kyo? Could you help me a little bit, my tits feel so swollen,” you pouted, and his ears damn near perked up at your words.

“Oh? Does mommy need some relief?” he asked teasingly, and you nodded. Kyojuro walked over to you and knelt down, his hands reaching to massage your breasts slowly. He kneaded them and licked at the milk which dribbled out, letting it coat over his tongue. His lips wrapped around one of your tits, and he sucked slowly, moaning as he drank from you. You whined when he moved to the other tit and performed the same actions, relief sinking in the more he suckled the milk out of you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl,” he whispered before getting up again to cook the meat he brought in.

You pouted again, “need you, Kyo, please,” and he laughed.

“You can have me after we eat, does that sound okay?” he compromised, and you sighed but nodded in agreement.

You laid back and rested upon the pile of furs, smiling in contentment as you looked at the two meals that were set out before you.

“I love you, Kyo,” you admitted, unashamed by your feelings as they echoed throughout the cavern.

Kyojuro froze, glancing back at you briefly before continuing to prepare the food, trying his best to hide the blush that traveled across his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

“I love you, too, my little flame.”

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kotias · 9 days

Text

Your Grace is a Fire

New fic just dropped, prompted by @gleafer on her Patreon!!

Prompt:

“Hell infuses Crowley’s body with hellfire so he runs away and hides for years. Aziraphale finds him, and he thinks he knows how to put out the fire that burns his demon so!”

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hell's Punishments, Graphic description of torture, graphic description of illness, graphic description of violence, Stalking, fleeing, divine ecstasy, Coming Untouched, Bloodgraphic description of body failing and doing disgusting things, Shedding, Angst with a Happy Ending, angst with a porny ending, Angst and Porn

TW: I am so serious. DEAD DOVE. There is blood, torture, intense amounts of gross bodily fluids.

Word count: 7,369 words

Summary:

Laudanum! Last time Crowley would do that… Hell infuses the demon with hellfire and sends him back on Earth, where Heaven hunts him down for three decades before Aziraphale gets his hands on him and brings him back to the bookshop. There, they work together to rid Crowley from this hellfire plaguing him…

Excerpt:

Before him, Aziraphale’s irises changed. The jade colour they had been wearing until then was engulfed into a golden typhoon, thrashing against the walls of its white enclosure and devouring it until all trace of the jewel was gone. The storm passed, leaving behind it the pure, bright blue of a clear sky, almost light enough to lose itself into the rest of the eye.

Crowley only realised that Aziraphale had opened his mouth when his warm breath tickled his skin, and he followed the light appearing between his teeth.

He shook his head, letting out a plaintive whine, trying to get away, get away, get away— but the cold light glowing harder than the sun breached the space of Aziraphale’s lips and entered his, resting on the tip of his tongue and giving him a moment of soothing warmth.

That, however, did not last.

As the glowing bundle rolled into his mouth and down his throat, the cosy embrace turned into a scorching hot tear rolling into the walls towards his chest and freezing his inside with shock.

“Wha—”

“I know.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed in concern and, Crowley understood, a silent apology. “It’s going to hurt, Crowley.”

And hurt it did, like nothing he had lived through before. He didn’t need to see the light moving inside him to know exactly where it was; everything it touched caught on fire, only to be frozen over and shredded to pieces. Each nerve of his body seemed to be looking for an escape, goosebumps covering his skin like needles.

Each gasp of suffering added only more hurt as the air blew the flames of the hellfire inside him harder and harder. It felt like a battle between Aziraphale’s light and his own affliction, and the loser was himself.

He crashed to the ground, wriggling and whining, his vision turning black.