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heliads · 3 years

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Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

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You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

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sundaysundaes · 3 years

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Love Bites

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader, ft. Mark Lee | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat--even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis.

Warnings: Smut, vampire sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking. For the sake of the plot, Y/N is slightly intoxicated in this fic (drunk sex). Please don’t read this fic if this makes you feel uncomfortable. I also don’t approve nor allow taking advantage of your romantic partner while they are under the influence of alcohol.

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on daily basis.

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence in secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t really identify them as a threat. You perceive things in a similar way. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can co-exist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the cute guy—probably still in his early twenties—who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greet each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, “Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen? He’s too cute to be a serial killer anyway.” Which, you realize soon enough, was a poor, terrible logic on your part.

But you turn over his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you do not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you do not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for research purposes). And you most clearly do not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, not caring when trails of blood start to taint her bare shoulder and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your own. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by the sight of him with his eyes turning as dark as the night. His brunette hair is made of curls and waves, seems unbelievably soft and silky with bangs almost covering his eyes. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in hurry with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is). His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his v-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re not a vampire drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah, as in, no problem. You have a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

You frown. “I’m confused. Would you rather have me freak-out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Lee Donghyuck, come back to me. I haven’t come yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like one. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You remember. “This is totally cliche and I wish I could say a better excuse but I was making coffee and ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment’s door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you try to turn his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.”

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a white towel hanging around his neck, his wet hair dripping water to his bare chest, and another towel wrapped around his waist.

He notices you’re staring so with a small smirk, he comments, “So you’re fine seeing me with human’s blood on my face but completely left in shocked when I’m half-naked?”

You put your best effort to act unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

“And yet, you didn’t hear me coming into your apartment last night.”

“I was…” He narrows his eyes. “Distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He exhaled loudly, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human. “Why are you here again today?”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?”

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Mark Lee is any better.” When he sees a blush blooming on your face, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Sweetheart. How does it feel to have a lover that only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best serious expression he can manage. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you turn around in your heels, Donghyuck is already on the other side of the room, closing his front door and leaning his back against it. “Now, now, you come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, right?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, voice sounding smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone, lifting your face so his eyes are locked with yours.

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing starts to stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are half-lidded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this so much lately.”

Your heart feels like a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. There are several reasons that make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much hotter.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can bring trouble, so you can only imagine how troublesome would it be to share your home with a vampire. What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead?

You gulp. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Mark. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend. Stop crushing on your damn neighbor.

Well, there is nothing serious going on with Mark actually. You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room.

So yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have the technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing, I can see in the dark but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks!”

“Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but shrugs. “Can’t hurt.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you some basic stuff to get you updated.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll get through this.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless it’s what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes nearly glowing as he pushes his bangs back with one hand, “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires are from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire, to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not, since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Donghyuck isn’t like that at all, to the point you have to convince yourself that he’s a century-old vampire and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Donghyuck isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment.

He’s not heartless either. He cried during watching Hachiko even when the dog owner was still alive and well, shouting, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust,” to the screen. So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. He’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Sweetheart. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you’d never ever trust his words for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of fear, but in reality, he gets scared from a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming with wide eyes, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“WHAT?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Donghyuck enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours, as he takes a sip of his ‘red wine’. And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it before but then you figure that you’re going to have Mark in your room from time-to-time (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take back your words.

Because when Donghyuck said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Lee Donghyuck, I want you to bite me as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl—sometimes even two, for God’s sake—over. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears, blast the volume to the maximum until you can literally feel your ears going deaf while pulling a pillow over your head. And even then you still can hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in the room just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your pudding leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine completely filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Donghyuck is also exceptionally talkative, you’ve learned along the way. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause hang for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some papers to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it's called drool but when you are awake it's called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights? This question intrigues me.”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun has set and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird's nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve never been with a man but I don’t really oppose the idea.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stare at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered.

He noticed the look on your face. “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in my mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

“You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Mark for a sec. Don’t we look hot together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to.

“So, these vampire books you said you read,” he went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the flustered look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost blurt out the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You cough, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A smirk grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He tightened his jaw, quietly murmured, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, milady?”

“You’re freaking annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, staring at the ceiling with droopy eyes. “Hypnotizing them to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

“So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He tilted his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimic him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” He closed your book, smiling at you though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not really pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for you to blush. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was amused, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your ribcages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face, and raced back to your own room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Donghyuck’s presence is as bright as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed about your college assignments or too exhausted from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Donghyuck doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And also the sight of him wearing your pink apron while humming to a Michael Jackson’s song with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it makes your stomach do somersaults most delightfully.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did this all for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, already wetting your lips in anticipation, and waste not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and scared out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not nice! I thought we’ve talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of it. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent dish entering your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you blush,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Donghyuck-ah.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Donghyuck easily dodges every single thing you’re throwing at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him on the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face and he just made that account two days ago. “—promote your cooking skill?!”

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand to yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And on the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to look at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery with a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

It’s your first date night after nearly half a year of not contacting Mark due to him going overseas for student exchange, and you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Mark you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Mark or finally losing your virginity to him, Donghyuck can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Donghyuck-ah.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his phone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Mark is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this argument again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Sweetheart,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Mark? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you do? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing, click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Hyuck!”

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out from my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Donghyuck-ah, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat bitter. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Sweetheart.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them because his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you but it only happens for a second or two so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again though something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, uneasiness starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Mark is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked, lips swollen from his kisses, with him hovering on top of you, both breathless and speechless.

And unfortunately for you, also clueless.

He has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Perhaps it’s okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Mark’s fingers are shaking due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned-on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what’s he’s supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the packet sexily with his teeth, put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he tries to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Mark doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Mark?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in chagrin when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Mark tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Donghyuck peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing.

“So,” he begins, acting casual, “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but man, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Donghyuck asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Donghyuck is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs, eyes staring idly at the screen.

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happened with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the birth of Jesus.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, so you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, Hyuck. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Sweetheart.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly thirty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel. Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of girls I brought into this place?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m livid and I’m human.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back-and-forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different than us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than a hundred years-old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Donghyuck sighs, closing his book and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, aren’t you?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels under your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring season, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even.

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how red your face is turning.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch.

So really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward position. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Donghyuck tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips is curving upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer to do?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Baby, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice filled with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your scarlet cheeks puffed out but Donghyuck laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking about something dirty?”

You almost swallowed your own tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you, as he embraces you tighter, making you fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line with sincerity with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively make you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Sweetheart,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t really spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Mark was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, tone suddenly becoming cold and it makes you feel uneasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Donghyuck warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the harder you blush. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around, look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Donghyuck has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m going to have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, and your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head, holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s really a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek both irked and amused. “You’re really something.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just lock your eyes to your tv screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, making your breath hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple but Donghyuck is quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted with the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock.

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I wanted to wait until you wake up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “Was it that good being in my arms?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He shakes his head, chuckling at your stupid antics as he stands up from the couch. He ruffles your hair once, making a mess out of your strands before he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck comes out from his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders slumped forward.

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He pouts. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling uneasy. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to hide your eyes behind your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispers seductively with his lips almost grazing your own make you jump on your feet, your cup slipping off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Donghyuck holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, because having him in such proximity is going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenches your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but to let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…”

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face seeing how his eyes are now glowing a bit brighter, his lips parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling all the way down to your palm.

“Hyuck…?”

His eyes are drifting back and forth from your face to your cut and you know where this is going but when he brings your palm closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off your skin, you nearly collapse to the floor.

“Hyuck—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Donghyuck has his eyes closed, a moan almost falls from his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Hyuck!”

He blinks awake, shocked when he sees your face painted with fear. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them back before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“S-sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean—shit I really have to go—I have to drink—” and when you blink your eyes, he’s vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your ribcages, you lean back against the kitchen counter again, your legs trembling under you.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s a fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him, you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting hard when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just simply by imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, manages to irk you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Mark in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply just reply, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Mark is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Donghyuck. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed up in a white buttoned-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his bangs to showcase his temple, you thought: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, as he places a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table, saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.” You thought: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Donghyuck goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and placing down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it and Donghyuck looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal even—in that shirt, in that hairstyle, in the dim light of the room.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman—because that’s what you usually do.

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a timid nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it. “And what if I do?” He asks, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Donghyuck lets out a chuckle, telling you he was making a lame joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Donghyuck walks to your side with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding glass to your side as he says, “Wine, milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax,” he comments as he leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the blush that creeps up your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system.

“Does it taste good?” He asks, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy. Donghyuck who takes notice of that, move you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he says, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you push him away.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Hyuck, don’t be a bitch about it.”

He’s taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you, Lee Donghyuck,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs, actually,” he answers, taking a sip of his own drink. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side-to-side in amusement. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space before Donghyuck speaks again. “How come you’re asking me these questions?”

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, not sure why, but you’re feeling very brave at the moment. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Donghyuck places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Donghyuck isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with anyone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re too lost in your own thoughts that when Donghyuck reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, sliding your glass down to the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lifting your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Donghyuck places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers dangling at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow hard before you weakly nod.

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body.

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your black satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at what you’re wearing, and instead immediately drags your blouse to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Donghyuck flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin, breathing in his scent. You don’t know how vampires usually smell like but Donghyuck reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure how summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Donghyuck’s eyes gleam in the way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And maybe he’s thinking the same thing about yours because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

It’s warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are warm and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been, and you tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, fingers slipping between your strands, tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future because Donghyuck knows what he’s doing, even when he’s caught by surprise.

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver, your breathing rags, and you moan into his mouth, tracing your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue doing this.

So anticipation builds inside you because there’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Donghyuck is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he says, voice sounding breathy though he doesn’t breathe. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move.

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how you’re itching for his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Hyuck—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He hisses when you’re using your knee this time, sliding it between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand sliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie, pushing himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing him to lean on but manage to keep your balance by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Donghyuck turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth.

“Hyuck—”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to calm himself and the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, still not turning around to face you.

“I want to see them, Hyuck.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch.

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. Now, you can take your time.

He’s so fascinating.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and uncertainty that he might hurt you, are glowing brightly in the color of topaz and they’re strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are larger but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“C-can I touch…?” You hesitantly ask, and he looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid, and you flinch as it feels like a knife splitting your skin.

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “You’re okay?”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heartbeat going crazy. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re crazy—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to his eyes. “Just try, Hyuck…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, telling you, “You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find a home in his waves. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time so—”

A high-pitched yelp escapes your lips and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder because Donghyuck doesn’t waste any second after he heard your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. And it hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids. Donghyuck suddenly lets you go, his eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You slowly relax against his chest, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, heartbeat slowing. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this.

“Hyuck…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded, the strap of your camisole falling off your shoulder. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight. “I… I can’t stand…”

He yanks himself away for a second, only to lift you so you can wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the counter, placing you down in the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He asks, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone. You nod, eyes going down to focus on his fangs again. His lips are painted with your blood, with some of it trickling down his chin. He’s a monster and he definitely looks like one, but his eyes are tender and his hands are silky smooth on your skin.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the air, making you jump in surprise.

“Hyuck—” You’re silenced with another kiss, and it’s so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand is going down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud, making you rake your nails against his back in response. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away, tossing the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he says, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward, pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie. You whine, circling your legs around his waist for stability, and murmurs, “No, don’t stop, please,” against his ear.

It’s not fair that he’s still fully clothed so you frantically toy with the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders with so much eagerness before you roam your lips to every inch of his exposed skin.

Donghyuck licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan from the back of his throat when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin of his chest, “Take it off, just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest over your desperation but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Donghyuck is more than willing to comply, sliding the lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, his fingers immediately sliding between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds his way down the valley of your breasts and goes lower and lower until he has his head between your thighs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Donghyuck makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation.

“God, Hyuck.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He unbuckles his belt in hurry, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to release himself from its confines. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost laying down on the counter, half of your back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire gradually changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed.

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is absolutely painful and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. You can barely stand the pain and you’re about to stop him by reaching out a hand, but he grabs your wrist and sinks his teeth to your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body but just like before, another rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before, hungry for his touch.

“You’re okay?” He asks, licking the blood that trails down your arm. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “Stop talking and fuck me already.”

His glowing eyes are gazing down at you with desire, intense with lust. He runs his tongue along his lower lip once, smirking as he says, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild can he be when he’s not holding back. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, tightening yourself around his length unconciously.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“Don’t hold back,” you hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “Just do what you want.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes seem like he’s about to grant your wish.

You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crush his mouth with yours again.

Donghyuck’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each pound as he holds you by your hips, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s the trace of endorphin left in your body that heightened all your senses while at the same time washing all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing.

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching against your skin, makes you think fuck why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Donghyuck suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss, and turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again, your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he presses his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the chin and lifts your face so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs near your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin.

Donghyuck raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson to your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shudder and avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re breathing hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath. “Hyuck…” You crave for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing you with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us—I think about you a lot,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. “You’re really driving me insane with that face of yours, your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight and he wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now, with that blush creeping on your face.” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Mark when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you— doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping on the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“H-Hyuck—” You reach out a hand back, trying to find his for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes, leaving you with no options other than pressing the side of your face against the marble countertop, mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin meeting his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes going to see how you look underneath him in the mirror before he sinks his fangs deep into you, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release and he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. And maybe it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or back in reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward when the sight of him already makes you blush fervently and your heart races fast. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite mark is still there.

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain runs like electricity to your bones, making you freeze instantly. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart and you fall back to the bed, weak and exhausted.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, checking on your face. “You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water, here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats but can’t help a smile forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to, but you were so cute.” He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap, and moves to press a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should get more sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

And he doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all this too.

“Hyuck.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand against your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face slightly goes stern. Turning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, somehow seem a bit upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” The way your heart is beating so fast makes you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, sex? You drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Us living together, making fun of each other, having dinners together, even spend hours watching re-runs of your stupid tv shows—”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks, breaking the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Donghyuck leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features, especially the shape of his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose. “You’re playing hard to get again? Seriously? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you blush only makes him want to tease you harder. “What was it that you said? God, Hyuck, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Sweetheart?”

***

Read the sequel here

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nerdzzone · 3 years

Text

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: Thank you so much to everyone who read this story, especially those who took the time to comment and share their thoughts! I never imagined it would get this much love and I really appreciate it.

This is the last part of this section of their story, but there will be more! I don’t have too much planned yet, but I’m definitely going to write a little prequel about how it all started and then maybe a series of one shots of various events in their lives or a follow up series a bit in the future. Keep an eye out for that and enjoy this last part for now!

Part Four

_____

Part Five

It was still dark when I woke up.

It took a moment for me to remember where I was and why I was intertwined with a very warm, sculpted body, but as the memories came back to me, I was relieved that it was still early. We hadn't had the forethought to set any alarms despite agreeing that I should leave before Grayson came down so it was lucky that I'd woken up naturally.

I knew I needed to leave while I had the chance, before I drifted back off to sleep, but the peaceful look on Chris' face was hard to disturb. It had been an emotional night for both of us at the end of a busy day so I tried to slip away without waking him up, but even in his sleep, he wasn't ready to let me go. His grip tightened the moment I started to wiggle and I couldn't help but smile at his need to keep me close.

Stretching up, I placed soft kisses along his jaw as I quietly called out his name between each one. It took a few moments, but eventually he stirred and his grip tightened on me again as he tilted his head to look down at me.

"What time is it?"

His voice was raspy with sleep and it sent tingles down my spine.

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "But I should probably go upstairs."

Chris leaned up on his arm just enough to look over me to glance at the clock on his nightstand.

"It's only five," he informed me. "Stay."

"He gets up early some days."

My words were true, but he wasn't going to be swayed.

"Never before six, we've got time."

Before I could put forth any more arguments, he leaned down and silenced me with a kiss.

It felt strange - waking up in his bed, sharing such casual affection - but it felt so right.

I let my hands slide over his toned chest, soaking in the hard shape of his muscles, enjoying the shiver that ran through him as I ghosted my fingers down over his prominent abs before trailing back up his waist. A smile slid onto my face as I pulled back slightly.

"How'd you get so many abs?" I mumbled. "It's not fair."

I felt Chris' lips twitch into a smirk against my own as he slid his hands under my shorts as he had the night before.

"No more unfair than you walking around in these sexy pajamas for the last few weeks..."

I snorted a laugh and pulled away to look down at what I was wearing before looking back at him.

"I don't wear sexy pajamas," I protested. "These are old and frumpy."

"What are you talkin' about?" He laughed. "Who in their right mind thinks booty shorts are frumpy?"

"These are not booty shorts, they're normal shorts."

"Well, they're short enough that they've been driving me crazy," he informed me, leaning down to hover his lips over mine again. "But then again, you could wear anything and make it look fuckin' hot."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his compliment, but before I could deny it, his lips were back on mine.

It was a slow and lazy kiss and I was struck by how different this felt to the intimate moments we'd shared before. There was no threat of one of us coming to our senses and running away, we could relax and enjoy every moment. The knowledge that this was something deeper, something stronger than a fleeting moment of weakness made it feel all the more profound; it made the fire that was building inside me burn brighter with every brush of his tongue against mine and every tug of my hips against his.

His hands kneaded and squeezed my bum as I let one of mine rest on his chest while the other tightened on his bicep. His tense, sculpted bicep. So much for out of shape, I thought to myself remembering our earlier conversation, but I didn't have time to voice any arguments against the claim that he'd made before he drew my mind back into the moment.

Pulling back slightly, he nipped at my lower lip and began trailing kisses down my jaw. I hummed happily at the sensation until he focused on a spot just below my ear, a spot that pulled a gasp from my lips. Encouraged by the sound, he sucked there, gently at first but steadily increased the pressure until his teeth grazed against my skin and I couldn't hold back a soft moan.

He chuckled as he pulled his mouth back, just enough for his breath to hit my neck and send shivers down my spine.

"I can't wait to find all the places that do that to you..."

I felt my cheeks heat up, partially from the shame of how easily he'd found such a sensitive spot and partially from the anticipation of him finding more.

"Shut up," I mumbled, moving my hand from his arm to his jaw to lift his mouth back to mine.

He smirked into the kiss, letting our lips stay together as his hands slid up from under my shorts to under my shirt instead. He wasted no time lifting it over my head, tossing it aside and settling his hands on my chest. Another gasp slipped out of me as his fingers found my nipples and pinched them softly. The sensation alone sent a wave of arousal through me, but as he leaned back to flick his eyes down and take in the sight, I felt the heat between my legs grow even more. His pupils darkened as he bit his bottom lip and I let my hips rock against his.

"Chris," I practically panted. "Please..."

He pulled his eyes back up to meet mine as if my voice had snapped him out of a trance and he smiled, kissing me again.

"Patience, Winnie. Patience."

Winnie. It was a nickname he'd started using years ago, the first night we met. It wasn't until he mumbled it now that I realized how long it had been since he'd used it. Probably not since I'd told him that we were better off as friends, I'd just been Whitney since then. The sound of it made my heart clench as I captured his mouth with mine and arched into him. I needed to feel him - I needed that closeness.

He let me press against him, moving his hands so my chest could rest against his and letting them trail down to quickly rid himself of his pants and me of my shorts before settling them back on my thighs. He kissed me deeply, his tongue teasing mine as his hands slowly moved higher, taking advantage of the position of my leg over his hip as one hand slid between us.

I gripped him, gasping against his mouth as he pressed his thumb against my clit while one finger, quickly followed by another, sunk inside me.

My head fell back then, giving Chris the opportunity to press his lips against the exposed skin.

"Never get tired of seeing you like this..."

The words were mumbled into my neck, but I couldn't even fathom a response as my eyes squeezed shut, too distracted by the feeling of the movement between my legs. I knew the thickness of his fingers was only a hint of what was to come, the slow yet purposeful rubbing was just a tease and that thought was almost overwhelming.

I wanted to touch him, I wanted to hear him whimper and feel him squirm like I was, but when I reached out to touch his hard cock that lay between us, he used his free hand to pull mine away, pinning it to his chest. At the same time, he pressed harder on my clit and I couldn't find the strength to argue as my arousal became almost overwhelming.

"Chris, please," I repeated my earlier plea, but he played dumb as he raised an eyebrow.

"Please?"

I wanted - no, needed - him inside me, to feel the stretch and ache of his cock as his hips thrust against mine, but as hard as I tried to focus and get more words out, more specific directions, my mind went blank. He looked smug at my helplessness, but a curl of his fingers had my eyes fluttering shut as a moan tore from my throat and my hips moved against his hand as if they were no longer under my control. I heard a faint 'shh' before Chris' lips covered mine again in an attempt to swallow the noises I couldn't hold back.

He was relentless as he stroked the sensitive spot he’d found with every move of his fingers. It was intense. Too intense but not intense enough at the same time until suddenly it was perfect. My nails dug into Chris' arm, my thigh gripping his hip as if to keep him exactly where he was and the pleasure ripped through my body.

My chest heaved as I came down from the high, my hand going to Chris' wrist to guide his away from me, needing a relief from the stimulation once the trembles of my orgasm had stopped. He rested his hand on my hip instead, stroking the skin softly as he laid soft, gentle kisses on my lips until I relaxed.

Eventually I melted against him, my body loose from my release which was a stark contrast to the tension that ran through him. He was impossibly hard, already leaking, and practically his whole body twitched as I let my hand drift over him from base to tip.

"Whitney," he choked out. "Fuck."

His voice was strangled, his eyes wide, pupils blown and the vision of him so wound up sent another wave of heat through me. I teased him for a moment, a lazy smirk on my face as he shivered under my touch, but he didn't let me have my fun for long.

He shifted slightly, pushing forward enough to knock me onto my back. My hand slipped away from him and he caught it in his, lacing our fingers together as he pinned it to the bed. Shifting his hips, he settled into position before reaching down with his free hand to guide himself inside me making us both moan at the sensation. He surprised me by how continually restrained he was as he slowly pressed forward until he was buried completely. The stretch was fierce and I felt every inch of him, soaking in the feeling as my body adjusted. Once I was comfortable, I rocked my hips and gasped at the friction.

Chris pressed his lips against my shoulder, his hand gripping mine a little tighter as he pulled out almost as slowly as he'd pushed in. The second thrust was slightly more forceful, but it was clear he was holding back, using the soft movements to build the tension between us.

And it was working.

Every slow drag had me feeling every inch, every brush against every nerve and I felt myself quivering around him within moments.

He nudged his nose against my chin as he trailed his lips up until they pressed against mine again.

"Look at me."

His demand came out in a grunt, but I forced my eyes open to meet his. His gaze was intense and it was hard not to look away, but there was more behind his stare. A softness, a twinkle, a look of love. My breath caught in my throat as I let my free hand move to his cheek.

I held his stare as he continued his gentle thrusts, the speed increasing as his will power waned and I matched him, letting myself rub against him with each movement. It didn't take long for the pressure to start building, for the slow and consistent friction against the most sensitive parts of my body to make me tighten and clench as my release began to build again. But as it built, so did the emotions bubbling in my chest.

This closeness. The intimacy. The difference between this moment and any we'd shared before. How he was taking his time, like every touch was purposeful and like every movement had more meaning behind it than words could express. It was unlike anything I'd felt before and it made my heart ache.

He was watching me as my eyes grew misty, grunting with almost every thrust and soon, the intensity was too much.

I pressed towards him, pushing to meet his movements as my eyes fell shut, my jaw dropping as I panted against him. I felt his grip tighten on my hand again as he picked up speed until our hips were crashing together.

I let my arms lace around his neck, pulling him closer to me so I could bury my face against the skin of his shoulder as it took mere moments - practically seconds - for me to fall over the edge, muffling my repressed cries with his muscles.

"Fuck," Chris groaned, his head hanging low as his own release was edged closer by mine.

He thrust once, twice, three more times before pulling out completely leaving me twitching around nothing as he spilled on my stomach. He held himself steady, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving, until he caught his breath and let his arms relax, rolling over to lay next to me.

That was when the wave of emotion I'd been feeling crashed down on me. As I laid there, covered in his cum, I suddenly felt as exposed and vulnerable as I had during our conversation the night before. I bit my bottom lip to stop it trembling, but I couldn't hold back the tears as they began trailing down my cheeks and onto the pillow below my head.

I could hear Chris breathing next to me as he came down from his release, but I stayed perfectly still, hoping not to draw any attention to myself. It wasn't until I drew in a shaky breath that he noticed I was crying.

"Hey, whoa, what's going on?" He asked, rolling onto his side so he was facing me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I choked out. "I'm just...overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed in a good way?" He asked, his worry written all over his face. "Or bad?"

"Good," I assured him, smiling softly and reaching up to stroke his cheek. "It's all good, I promise."

"Okay," Chris nodded, but there was still concern in his eyes. "I'll be right back."

He scurried off to the bathroom, reappearing moments later with a damp cloth. He quickly, but gently wiped up the mess on my stomach before throwing the cloth in the laundry basket in the corner and climbing back into bed. As soon as he was settled, he pulled me into his arms and let me rest my head on his chest.

We stayed like that, holding onto each other as Chris whispered quiet reassurances to me for a few minutes until my tears came under control.

"Sorry," I sniffled. "That's so embarrassing."

"It's not," he insisted, stroking my arm softly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Absolutely," I assured him, placing a soft kiss on his chest. "Better than okay. It's just been an emotional night, I guess it all kinda hit me."

"I thought," he paused. "I thought maybe you regretted it..."

His confession made me sit up so fast that it made my head spin slightly as I turned to look at him.

"No, Chris, it's not that at all! I don't regret it, not even a little bit, it's pretty much the opposite," I explained. "I'm happy and that felt different, it caught me off guard."

"Just a big emotional release then?" He questioned with a smile, waiting for me to nod in confirmation before stretching forward to place a kiss on my lips. "I love you."

I felt my heart swell from how casually he said those words and I couldn't hold back a grin as I rested my forehead against his.

"I love you too."

We soaked in our moment of bliss for a few minutes before we realized that it really was time for me to go. I was slow and reluctant as I peeled myself out of bed, still desperate to keep this peace that we'd found undisturbed as long as possible, but it was nearing six o'clock and the threat of Grayson waking up was increasing by the minute.

So, after pulling Chris back in for one last kiss, I snuck off back to my own room.

Surprisingly, I fell asleep again almost as soon as I crawled into my own bed. The excitement and stress of the last twenty-four hours had me more tired than I realized and I didn't wake up again until just after eight o'clock.

As I laid in bed, trying to wrap my mind around everything that happened, I found myself feeling strangely nervous about going downstairs. I could have stayed in bed with Chris forever - away from the world and prying eyes, just the two of us soaking each other in as we made up for lost time - but things were always harder when you integrate them into real life. I tried to reassure myself, convince myself that we were the same as before, just with more kissing and wonderful orgasms, but that seemed like a bit of a stretch.

We'd spent so many years keeping each other at arms length to dull the pain of not being together and avoid any signs of our feelings slipping out. I had no idea how to act around him now that we were together.

I knew that hiding in my room all day wasn't going to solve anything though so after a quick shower, I headed downstairs.

It became clear that I'd missed breakfast as the noise of laughter floated in from the living room and while I smiled at the sound, I headed to the kitchen in search of coffee first.

I thought I'd snuck down quietly, but I'd barely put the cream in my drink when I felt hands on my waist and lips against my neck. I tensed, feeling my nerves bubble back up to the surface, but I turned in his arms to face him.

"Good morning," Chris smiled before leaning and pressing a soft peck on my lips. I forced a smile in return, but my brain was racing and Chris picked up on that right away. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "It just feels weird. Being able to touch you or kiss you or whatever. I resisted for so long, it seems odd to do it now."

"Sounds like someone is overthinking things," Chris teased as he raised an eyebrow. "Because you literally threw yourself at me in front of my entire family yesterday with no hesitation."

My jaw dropped as Chris smirked down at me.

"I did not throw myself at you," I protested. "At least, not how you're implying! I tackled you in a sporting situation!"

"Ah," Chris' smirk widened. "So, you admit it was a tackle then?"

"You made sure the point didn't count," I reminded him as I rolled my eyes. "I don't understand what you're trying to prove."

Chris chuckled and pulled me closer causing me to instinctively put my arms around his neck to help me balance against him.

"I'm trying to prove that you used to touch me plenty without a second thought," he informed me. "And I remember because I savoured every little touch."

I couldn't hold back a teasing and somewhat patronizing 'awwwe' at that admission and Chris mumbled a gentle 'shut up' before forcing me to do so by pressing his lips against mine.

I was cautiously mindful that we'd agreed not to tell Grayson about this for a while - and that making out in the kitchen gave him a pretty good opportunity to catch us unaware - but it was just too hard to resist the sensation of Chris' tongue sliding against mine and luckily, it wasn't Gray who stumbled upon us.

"Wow," Scott let out a low whistle. "What do we have here?"

I felt my cheeks heat up, like we were teenagers caught by a parent, as I pulled away from Chris. He turned back to face his brother, a smirk on his face.

"Surprise!"

"Is it official?" Scott asked, the grin on his face warming my heart. He seemed genuinely giddy for us. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," Chris answered, looking down at me with a goofy smile. "And yeah, I'd say it's pretty official?"

I nodded, letting my hand slip into his and squeezing it gently as Scott let out a 'whoop' of excitement.

"I'm happy for you guys! It's about fucking time!"

We laughed at his enthusiasm as the patter of little feet on the floor alerted us to an incoming presence. I let Chris' hand fall away from mine and picked my coffee up instead, trying to look casual in a way that was probably unnecessary when dealing with an oblivious three year old.

"Uncle Scott said a bad word!"

Scott rolled his eyes as he ruffled his nephew's hair.

"I swear, that word is like a bat signal for him," he joked. "Every time I say it, he appears out of no where!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't use bad words at all," I pointed out, smiling as Grayson wiggled away from his Uncle's hand. "Then Grayson wouldn't have to keep you in line."

"You're right," Scott sighed with another roll of his eyes. "Sorry, Grayson. I'll try to remember not to say it."

Grayson nodded, pleased that his language policing was successful before turning his attention back to me.

"Mama, I need help."

"With what?"

He dashed across the room and grabbed my empty hand as he tugged me towards the door he'd just come through.

"My new dinosaur puzzle," he explained. "It's too hard."

"The one from Grandma Jane?" I asked, referring to the birthday gift that my mom had sent him. He nodded in confirmation as we walked into the living room. "Oh, that one did seem tricky. It's pretty big."

He nodded again as he sat down in front of where he'd scattered out all the pieces. He'd managed to get a few of them together correctly, but most of what he'd assembled had been wrongly forced in to place. I rested my mug on the coffee table and sat down next to him. He eagerly climbed into my lap, with a puzzle piece in each hand and bit his lip in concentration as he attached one of the pieces correctly to the ones he'd already connected.

"Good job! See, I don't think you need my help. You're great at puzzles."

"I do," he insisted. "It's too big."

"Okay," I agreed. "I'll stay here just in case you run into trouble."

Grayson flashed me a smile and got back to work as Chris settled in the chair facing us. I noticed he was on his phone, but I didn't realize he was taking a picture until he turned it around to show me. It was a lovely photo, from the focused look on Grayson's face to the soft, affectionate smile on mine as I looked down at him. Since there weren't usually many other adults around when Grayson was with me, I had always regretted that we didn't have many pictures of us together. He would humour me for the odd selfie, but candid photos of us were few and far between.

"That's nice," I smiled. "Can you send it to me?"

Chris nodded his head before his lips twitched into a smirk.

"I just signed up for Instagram actually," he informed me. "Maybe I'll post it on there."

I snorted a laugh at that suggestion as I shook my head.

"Your fans are already sharpening their pitchforks and lighting their torches after that recent interview, are you trying to get me killed?"

"Maybe it'll help," Chris shrugged, but the smirk that was still firmly planted on his face told me he wasn't serious. "It'll be less fun to gossip about us if I just post pictures of you all the time."

I turned my attention back to Grayson for a moment to help him find the right spot for a piece before looking back over at Chris.

"I don't think that would work," I warned him. "When did you get Instagram anyway?"

"A few days ago, but I haven't posted anything yet," he admitted. "I don't really know how to use it."

"You're such an old man," I teased him with a laugh. "Why did you even get it if you don't know how to use it?"

He shrugged again as he answered while Gray let out a little cheer as he put several more pieces in place.

"It's good for promoting stuff. Which will be important when we launch A Starting Point."

"That's true," I nodded. "And you can post all those 'thirst traps' that your fans love."

Chris raised an eyebrow and his age showed again when he questioned me.

"Thirst traps? What's a thirst trap?"

"It's when you post..." I paused to cover Grayson's ears briefly. "Sexy selfies to deliberately rile people up."

"Oh my god," Chris tossed his head back as he barked out a laugh. "I don't do that. The only selfies I post are of me and Dodger."

"I've seen the pictures," I reminded him. "You always make sure those bulging biceps are on display."

"That meets your definition of a thirst trap?" He raised an eyebrow. "You're easy to impress."

Now it was my turn to smirk.

"Or maybe I've just been really thirsty for you these last few years."

"Gross!" Scott protested as he walked in, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. "If you're thirsty, I can get you a glass of water. Any other type of thirst should not be discussed while you're around me or your son."

I apologized, despite the giggle that slipped out, knowing that was a perfectly fair request. Chris, however, couldn't resist taunting his brother.

"Oh, I think she'll be fine," he informed him. "I quenched her thirst pretty well this morning."

I gasped and covered Grayson's ears even though he'd already heard the inappropriate thing his father had just said. Luckily, he was too young to understand what it meant, but Scott pretended to gag as he clearly got the joke.

"Okay, from now on, there will be none of that talk around me," Scott demanded. "No euphemisms, no jokes, no inappropriate touching or you two can go stay somewhere else and Gray and I will stay here together.”

I squeezed Grayson tight as I shook my head, displeased with that idea.

"We'll behave," I assured him. "Sorry, Scott."

Scott accepted my apology on the condition that we follow his instructions and Chris shot me a wink from where he sat.

I bit my lip to hide a smile so as to not antagonize Scott anymore and I took a moment to appreciate the situation. There was a lot of terrible, dark stuff happening in the world right now and I was incredibly grateful that we had a little pocket of brightness to bask in.

Chris and I soon found ourselves settled into things and getting swept up that new relationship bliss. That period of time that was filled with sultry glances, discreet touches taken during any possible moment, flirtatious giggles over silly little things - we were revelling in it all.

We did our best to be subtle - to keep Grayson unaware and to respect Scott's very reasonable ground rules - but from the near constant eye rolls from Scott, we weren't as discreet as we thought we were. He got particularly annoyed during our Mario Kart competitions as Chris' goal had shifted from winning every race, to taking out Scott so that I stood a chance. It was not a natural skill for me - I came last every time under normal circumstances - so I was grateful for any assistance I could get and made sure to thoroughly reward Chris for his help.

For the most part though, we'd reached a kind of peace that was nothing short of revitalizing. It was absolutely amazing to me how refreshed I felt now that we'd taken the plunge. I hadn't realized just how crippling our situation had been for me or the amount of energy I'd wasted fighting and suppressing my feelings for Chris. Now that we were together, it was like a fog had lifted on my brain. I had more energy and woke up with an excitement every day that I hadn't felt in a long time. I loved Grayson and he brought me a tremendous amount of joy, but there had always been a hole in our lives. I known that all along but now that the hole was closing, I was starting to realize just how big it had been and how detrimental it was even if I’d had the best intentions.

However, it only took about a week for the complications to start and all because Grayson was in a mood.

He woke up that way, as kids sometimes do, but it seemed like nothing we tried to do could help him shake off the grumpiness that he was feeling.

He fought Chris all through breakfast, he scowled all through his favourite morning cartoons and we narrowly avoided a meltdown when Scott headed out on his roller blades with Dodger and left Grayson at home. (He was an excellent uncle, but he gave Grayson more than his fair share of attention and we respected his need for some time to himself). After a good fifteen minutes of sulking and stomping around, I managed to distract him with his favourite train track, but even that relief was short-lived.

He played happily with me for almost half an hour, but he was still carrying a lot of tension in his body. It all came bursting out as soon as two of the pieces of track wouldn't slide back together as easily as he would have liked. Before I could offer any assistance, he let out a growl and tossed the pieces at the wall and kicking apart the ones we'd connected on the floor.

"Okay, Gray," I sighed. "That's enough. We don't throw our things around like that. You need to pick them up and put all this track away."

Grayson crossed his arms and shook his head.

"No."

I braced myself for a long stand-off as I nodded.

"It's not a choice," I insisted. "Come on, I'll help you."

"No," he told me firmly. "You do it!"

"I'll help you," I repeated. "But it's your mess, so you need to clean it up."

Grayson was unswayed as he continued to shake his head, but before I could try anything else to persuade him, Chris poked his head into the room we were in.

"I'm making lunch," he informed us. "Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich, buddy?"

A smile burst onto Grayson's face.

"Yes, please!"

He scampered over to the doorway where Chris was standing, but I was quick to voice my protests.

"Not so fast," I warned him. "You need to clean up all this track before you can do anything."

Grayson's face fell as he realized that he wasn't going to get away with his escape.

"No!" He snapped. "You need to go home!"

I was taken aback by that suggestion and how fiercely he demanded it, but Chris didn't hesitate as he jumped to my defence.

"Grayson, don't speak to your Ma like that," he scolded him. "Let's pick it up together and then we can go have some lunch."

"No, I don't want to!"

His voice was rising as he stomped his foot for dramatic effect and I sighed.

"I did offer to help already, but he wasn't having any of it."

"Well, we've got to get this mess cleaned up," Chris shrugged, throwing a few pieces in the tub as an example. "We can't leave it all over the floor or it'll get broken."

"I don't care!" Grayson insisted. "You're stupid!"

There were tears of frustration building up in his eyes as Chris winced at his uncharacteristic insult. I frowned, feeling my patience slip away despite my concern for why on earth Grayson was so wound up.

"Gray, that's not a nice thing to say," I sighed. "What's going on with you today? Why are you feeling so frustrated?"

I kept my voice soft and tried to hide my own feelings of frustration, but it did nothing to calm Grayson.

"I'm not!"

It was clearly a lie, but I threw a few more pieces in the tub, hoping to inspire him to help a little bit.

"See, look," Chris gestured to me. "Your mom will pick up the pieces on this side and you and I can do the ones on the other. Deal?"

"No! No deal!"

"Wow," Chris mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. "What is going on with him today?"

"I have no idea," I murmured back to him before turning my attention back to Gray. I moved over so I was kneeling in front of him and tried to look him in the eye despite his best efforts to look away. "C'mon, buddy. We can't do anything else until this mess gets cleaned up, so why don't we just get it over with and do it fast?"

"Go away, Mama," he demanded. "Go home! We don't want you here now!"

I knew his words were said out of anger and that he didn't mean it, but I couldn't deny that they hurt, especially with how passionately he spat them at me. I was momentarily stunned, but Chris leapt to my aid again as he appeared at my side, kneeling in front of Grayson as well. His jaw was tight, a clear sigh that his patience was thinning as quickly as mine.

"Grayson, that's not true," he insisted. "We love having your Ma here."

"No, I hate it!"

"Oh, do you?" Chris matched his scowl as Grayson nodded. "Well, you better get used to it because things are different now. We've decided that it would be nice for us to be a family."

"Huh?"

Grayson's eyebrows wrinkled together in confusion and my heart sank. I wasn't sure what Chris was thinking, but this wasn't how I wanted Grayson to find out.

"Your Ma and I love each other very much," Chris elaborated. "And we want us all to be together all the time, so you guys won't be going home anymore. You won't have to go back and forth."

Grayson's brow furrowed even more as his bottom lip wobbled for the few seconds it took for him to burst into tears. Chris looked shocked and I cringed as Grayson ran out of the room, the sound of his cries echoing up the stairs until his bedroom door slammed.

"Chris..." I started once the house was silent.

"I know, I know."

Chris shook his head as he stood up and helped me to my feet, but I wasn't about to let this go.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I was frustrated. He's been hard work today."

"I know he has." I was agreeing, but my tone wasn't one of solidarity. "But it's best not to inform children of massive life changes out of frustration or while they're in the middle of a tantrum!"

Chris huffed and crossed his arms, looking not unlike Grayson had only minutes before.

"He shouldn't talk to you like that."

"He's three, Chris!" I reminded him. "You can't drop bombs like that when he doesn't even understand what you're talking about! And, for the record, I don't remember ever agreeing to move in here permanently."

Chris swallowed hard as a frown slid onto his face. He looked worn out and if I wasn't so annoyed, I would have felt sympathetic. This had been a trying day during a very trying time and we were all just doing the best that we could. But that applied to Grayson as well and as difficult as he was being, he didn't deserve to have that news thrown in his face in a way he couldn't even comprehend.

"I just assumed..."

"I know you did, but that's something we need to discuss before you bring it up with Gray."

"It makes the most sense."

"Maybe so," I shrugged. "But we're moving a little bit fast here, don't you think? Two weeks ago we were barely speaking and now you want me to fully move in with you?"

"You've already moved in."

"It's different though," I insisted. "This is temporary, most of our stuff is still at home."

Chris looked down at me, the sadness and disappointment on his face making him look even more like a little boy, but his sad face wasn't the one I was most concerned about right now as my thoughts moved back to Grayson.

"Look, clearly we have more to discuss and work out, but I need to go check on Gray right now."

Chris still looked downtrodden, but he nodded.

"Alright, I'll come with you."

He moved towards the doorway, but I stopped him.

"Do you mind if I talk to him first?"

His face fell again, but he moved out of the way and wordlessly gestured for me to pass by him. I stretched up to place a kiss on his cheek and mumbled a 'thank you' in his ear before heading up to Grayson's room.

I knocked when I got to Grayson's door, but was unsurprised by his rude response.

"Go away!"

His tone was angry, but it sounded like his tears had subsided and I was grateful for that. I ignored his request and slowly opened the door, the sight inside almost bringing tears to my own eyes.

He had a little bag on his bed and was packing his things into it. The important stuff, of course, like all his favourite toys, but it broke my heart that we'd upset him so badly.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm going home," he told me, not looking away from his current task until he decided a clarification was needed. "To our home."

I sat on the bed next to where he was packing, trying to take the surety with which he spoke seriously.

"How are you going to get there?"

He was unfazed by that logical question as he answered.

"I'm going to walk."

"Walk?" I raised my eyebrows. "Wow. That's impressive. I don't think that I could even walk that far."

He faltered then, suddenly looking a tad less confident in his decision.

"Can you take me?"

"We can't go back there right now," I informed him with a sad smile. "We're not allowed to go anywhere right now, are we?" I paused while he shook his head. "So, if we went home, we'd have to stay inside that tiny little apartment all day every day. That wouldn't be much fun, would it?"

His face fell as he tried to wrap his mind around that and his bottom lip started to quiver again.

"But...I miss it."

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, he burst into tears. I hated seeing him so upset and was relieved when he let me pull him into my lap.

"I'm sorry, baby," I cooed into his hair, rocking him gently as I rubbed his back. "Things have been kinda strange for you lately, haven't they?"

He wailed out a 'yeah' as he nodded his head and I held him tightly, waiting until his tears subsided to try and offer anymore comfort. Once the sobs turned to sniffles, I spoke again.

"Daddy shouldn't have told you that we'd be staying here forever because I don't know if we are," I assured him. "Daddy was just frustrated because you were hurting my feelings when you said that you wanted me to leave."

"I don't want you to go home..."

His words were quiet, weaker now that he'd shifted from angry to sad and I wasn't sure which made my heart ache more.

"I'm not going home," I promised. "But things have changed between Daddy and I, like he said. We love each other and we want us to be a family. You know, like how Stella, Miles and Ethan all live together with both their parents."

I wasn't explaining it well, but I hadn't had the time that I'd hoped for to plan a simple and informative way to tell him and I was winging it. It wasn't working apparently as I felt Grayson shake his head.

"No, thank you."

I leaned back a bit, using my sleeve to wipe his eyes as I looked down at him.

"Why don't you like that idea?" I asked, a bit surprised by his negative opinion on the matter.

"I miss just Daddy time!" He told me, his eyes still glassy with tears even though they'd stopped rolling down his cheeks. "And just you time!"

It made sense. He spent almost his entire life having nothing, but one on one time with us and now suddenly he had none. We thought he would enjoy the opportunity to be with us both together, but it wasn't unreasonable that he would also miss that quality time with us apart as well.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. We didn't realize you were missing that, but we can still do it," I suggested. "You can have some time where you just play with Daddy and some time when you just play with me if that would make you happy?"

I kissed the top of his head and reminded myself that we were doing our best and hadn't purposely caused any unnecessary stress to our child as I squeezed him close and he nodded his head.

"Yes, please,” Grayson sniffled out as there was a knock on the door and Chris poked his head in.

"Everything okay?" He asked. "I heard crying..."

"We're okay," I assured him as I patted the bed next to me. "You can come in."

Chris didn't miss a beat as he crossed the room and sat down next to me, the worry on his face making me feel bad for not letting him come up right away.

"Grayson was just telling me that he misses having time with us by himself," I explained. "He doesn't want it to be family time all the time."

"We can do that," Chris nodded. "You're the star of the show here, buddy. We want you to be happy, that's the most important thing."

Grayson looked at him suspiciously, but Chris continued before he could argue.

"I shouldn't have said that you have to move in here once all the germs go away," he assured him, flashing his eyes up to meet mine as if he was talking to me as much as he was Grayson. "You two can decide that when the time comes. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not scared," Grayson frowned at him. "I don't care."

I chuckled at his insistence and gave him another squeeze.

"Well, you cared a minute ago," I reminded him. "But if we make some extra effort to have some one on one time, do you think you'd like to give it a try being a family? Because I do think that I would like to try it."

Grayson twisted his face into a slightly over the top, pensive look before he eventually nodded.

"Phew," Chris matched his dramatics as he wiped his brow. "Because I think your Ma is really pretty and it's really hard for me not to do this all the time..."

As soon as he finished speaking he leaned over and pressed a sloppy kiss on my lips. I laughed against his mouth as Grayson's giggles surrounded us, followed by his shrieks of protest as he tried to pull our faces apart.

"Daddy!" He scolded Chris. "That's gross!"

Chris chuckled as he shook his head.

"You won't think kissing is gross one day."

"Yes, I will," Grayson shot him a cheeky smile. "I always will!"

Chris growled playfully as he pulled Grayson off my lap, dragging him back down onto the bed with him. His fingers were moving frantically as they tickled his sides and Grayson's giggles reached almost deafening levels.

Their laughter was contagious though and I couldn't hold back a giggle of my own as I watched them.

I was relieved that Grayson seemed to have come round to the idea of things changing. I assumed he didn't fully understand what we were talking about or what it truly meant, but the fact that the idea of change had stopped bringing forth floods of tears was rather reassuring.

I had hoped that keeping him in the dark for a while would give Chris and I some extra time - time that would give us the chance to back out without any unnecessary heartache - but seeing them together now, I realized that would be next to impossible.

Even if Grayson was unbothered by any dissolution between Chris and I, there was no going back for me. They were two of the most important people in my life and just the sight of them laughing and playing together was enough to have my heart close to bursting. I was invested and in over my head, but I was more determined than ever to make it work.

We deserved a chance at being a family and it was undeniable that there was more than enough love between the three of us to make it work with just a little bit of effort.

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans smut #more hearts than mine

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

Catch and Release

Long fic with over 9k words in which the reader is a bodyguard working for the Nostrades and is present at the events of Yorknew. Events in the Yorknew arc have also been altered

Warnings: kidnapping, threats of violence, degradation, kink talk, mentions of death, the reader makes some not very good choices

To say that it was nerve-wracking to be sitting in such close proximity of one of the Phantom Troupe would be a massive understatement. You, along with the other remaining bodyguards of the Nostrade family, had witnessed this man – the one Melody had heard being addressed as 'Uvogin' – slaughter an entire group of mafia bodyguards and four of the Shadow Beasts completely on his own.

And now that same man was sitting next to you in the backseat of the car, the only thing keeping him in place being Kurapika's chains.

Luckily, though, his attention wasn't on you.

“Hey, driver. You think these chains can hold me?” Uvogin sneered at Kurapika, “if you don't kill me now, you'll regret it later.”

“Shut up.”

It seemed that you and Melody had the same idea to keep quiet and avoid attracting attention to yourselves, as you both kept your mouths shut and avoided eye contact. You didn't feel safe in that car. With either of those men. Even though he was on the same side as you, Kurapika had been out of control earlier, and with how much clear hatred he had for the cannibalistic murderer sat next to you, you worried that he would snap and endanger everyone again. Hopefully Melody would be able to calm him down if it came to that.

“Don't you understand? This is a golden opportunity,” he continued to taunt.

“Stop wasting time and just-”

The chains around him tightened and you could hear him grunting in pain.

“I told you to shut up!” Kurapika yelled, as he went as far as to turn around in his seat to glare at his captive, ignoring Melody's pleas for him to watch the road.

Uvogin was clearly taken aback by Kurapika's abilities, struggling against the hold of the chains as best he could in his weakened state. He had been shot at point blank range with a anti-tank cannon, and now it was chains that were doing him in.

You silently prayed Kurapika's hold on him would remain tight; it would be so easy for this giant to lean over and take a bite out of your head. You happened to have the binoculars at the exact moment he did that to one of the Shadow Beasts, and of all the things you had witnessed tonight, that had been among the most disturbing. Either Kurapika's chains were able to keep his movements restricted enough, or Uvogin just hadn't thought to do that yet.

The death-glares were still being exchanged between the two men with Melody becoming increasingly insistent for Kurapika to keep his eyes on the road. Not wanting the car to crash, you were about to try and get Kurapika's attention back on the road as well when Dalzollene suddenly called.

“Kurapika, floor it! It's a tail!” your boss's voice sounded over the phone.

“A tail? But who-”

You all seemed to have the same thought, using gyo to look over Uvogin. A needle stuck out of his thigh, a thin nen thread leading past your face and out the window.

“Shit,” you hissed, pulling the needle out and tossing it through the window as you rolled the glass down. It vanished into the night as Kurapika sped up. It had to have been the rest of the Phantom Troupe following.

You stayed twisted in your seat, looking back at a car that was following. It would be hard to lose them in the desert, and it seemed unlikely that your group would be able to make it to the city to ditch them.

Then, though you had a hard time making it out, you saw something fall onto the hood of that car, and it suddenly began to move about like no one was controlling it. The headlights behind Dalzollene's car completely vanished after that brief commotion, and after a few moments, it seemed as though they had been stopped.

“I don't think they're following us anymore,” you said. One could hope, at least.

“Not sure why they stopped, though,” you added.

“It doesn't matter,” Kurapika said.

Surprisingly, Uvogin had been quiet the whole time. When you turned back around and glanced over at him, he was staring blankly at the ceiling of the car, his anger from mere moments before seemingly dissipated.

“This is our chance to hurry back to the city,” Dalzollene spoke again.

“Roger that,” Kurapika answered.

“We'll switch the location to pattern C,” Melody said. She then looked back to you.

“We don't want muscles here putting up a fight. You can do that, right?”

“Of course,” you answered.

Now was not the time to lose your composure; right now, you needed to prove that you did have value as a hunter working for the Nostrade family.

Bringing up your arm and holding your palm so it was facing up, you focused your nen, and a small anemone bloomed in the center of your hand. You turned to face Uvogin, who was looking at you now, an eyebrow raised in question as he looked at the flower made of nen in your hand. You blew softly at the flower, causing the petals to flutter off and into his direction.

“The fuck is that supposed-”

Uvogin couldn't get any more than that out before the petals hit him, vanishing as your nen entered his system and forced him into a deep sleep. He slumped forward, and you were finally able to relax slightly, now that you didn't have to fear immediate death from a man who proved he could kill without the use of his arms or legs.

“Don't relax just yet,” Melody chided, “we still need to get him into a secure location.”

You nodded.

“Right. Sorry.”

You felt better when he awoke next. For one thing, you weren't stuck with him in a tiny, confined space, instead standing to the right of Dalzollene and having more than just Kurapika and Melody with you, as the entirety of the remaining hunters were surrounding him. It also helped that he had been completely strapped down to the metal table that took up the majority of the room, various restraints and wires around his neck and limbs keeping him secured.

Though with the way those bonds seemed to be straining against his muscles, you had to wonder if they'd be as effective if he didn't have the drugs that Dalzollene had pumped into him earlier.

He looked about the room after waking up, taking in all of you that surrounded him. His gaze seemed to linger slightly longer on Kurapika, you noted.

“Do you understand what's happening here?” Dalzollene asked, “where did you put the stolen merchandise?”

Uvogin seemed unconcerned, sighing a bit as he glanced at the hunters around him.

“What time is it?” he asked.

He spotted you, and asked “how long have I been asleep?”

You kept your mouth shut, instead looking over to Dalzollene, who seemed to have grown angry with Uvogin's nonchalance about the situation. Pulling his sword forward, Dalzollene readied himself for a strike.

“It seems that you don't grasp your current situation,” he growled, “I'm asking the questions here!”

He thrust the sword downwards, intending to stab the spider in the leg.

Uvogin's aura flared, and the tip of the sword broke off as it struck him. The piece of metal went flying into a breaker box on the other side of the room, lodging itself deep inside of it.

The noise echoed in the room briefly, and then silence overtook it. To think that even with those drugs in his system, Uvogin still kept his composure and was still able to use his nen so freely. He stayed quiet, looking blankly at the ceiling again. This man truly was something else.

He looked to Squala.

“Let's make a deal.”

“What?”

You hadn't even realized you had said that aloud until he looked over at you in response.

“I'll spare your lives, so let me up now,” he said to you.

“Huh? Wh-what is he saying?” Squala asked, looking to Melody, “is he insane?”

Although you and the rest stayed quiet, you were certain that sentiment was shared by most of your fellow bodyguards.

“He's serious. I think,” Melody answered.

It was easy to write this man off as just being insane, but when you thought about it more, it wasn't like that: the Shadow Beasts, nen masters who were more powerful than you could ever hope to be, had been so easily disposed of by this man. If he could take care of them within a matter of minutes, the rest of you didn't stand a chance. And he knew this. He was literally only making this offer because it would be less of a hassle for him.

Strange to think that this was likely Uvogin being charitable.

“Let me make something clear: We're after the auction merchandise that was stored underground,” Uvogin explained, “if you guys don't know where it is, I have no business with you.”

A beat of silence passed as everyone took in his words, broken by Basho as he began to talk, clearly annoyed by Uvogin's words.

“Wait a moment,” Melody said, interrupting him.

“You didn't steal the merchandise?” she asked Uvogin.

“The safe was empty when we arrived. The Shadow Beasts had already taken it all. I guess they didn't bother telling grunts like you.”

His words stung a bit, forcing you to acknowledge just how low the Nostrades were on the mafia social ladder, but to you, it didn't seem that he was trying to pick a fight or get a rise out of anyone. He was simply explaining the situation and calling it as he saw it: you and the others were insignificant, and even after going as far to kidnap and drug him, he saw all of you as being so little of a threat that he was willing to forget about it.

You didn't need Melody to tell you that he was telling the truth.

Squala was sent into a mild panic at the realization that Uvogin wasn't bluffing, and the way the spider smirked at that panic made everyone tense.

And then his gaze went to you.

“Everyone makes mistakes. We haven't stolen anything yet,” he said, and then looked back to Dalzollene, “so take these off, and pretend you didn't see anything.

“If you do that, you get to live.”

His words sent a chill down every spine in the room, and despite your best efforts to stop it, your hands began to tremble, forcing you to clench your fists so hard that your nails dug into the palms of your hands.

Everyone seemed to be in a similar state as you.

Everyone, except Kurapika.

“What about the guests?” he asked.

“Guests?”

“The guests who were in the auction hall. Some of our colleagues were there.”

It was a terrible thing to admit, but in the midst of everything that had happened that evening, you'd managed to forget about the hunters who had gone to the auction. They were likely dead. And Kurapika had to have known that.

Another thing you had managed to forget was Kurapika's reckless behavior from earlier. Perhaps you should have been impressed that he had kept his composure for this long. But if there had been any chance of your boss deciding to take Uvogin's deal in exchange for your lives, you could just feel that Kurapika was about to put an end to that.

“I see. That's too bad,” said Uvogin, “we killed them. It was part of our plan-”

Kurapika punched him in the face as anger clouded his judgment again, his expression turning to one of rage has he yelled “how many lives do you think you took to carry out that plan of yours?!”

Before he could get another punch in, Basho stepped forward and pulled the younger man away, yelling at him to stop.

Uvogin didn't seem upset at all, despite the bruise on his face and the blood coming from his nose. If anything, he seemed amused.

“If the merchandise is in safe hands, we don't need him. We'll hand him over to the community,” Dalzollene said, having regained his composure during Kurapika's outburst.

Uvogin wasn't paying attention to him, but instead was still grinning up at Kurapika.

“So no deal?” he joked.

You all left the room as Dalzollene stayed behind to double-check the restraints on Uvogin, but before you could exit, he instructed you to wait for him in the next room. Kurapika, Melody and the others went down the hall to another room while you stood outside the cell door. It worried you that Dalzollene had asked you to wait, and you had a bad feeling he was going to tell you to keep watch in the room where the prisoner was being held.

“I just made sure that he was attached securely to that table, and I've put in another dose of those muscle relaxants,” Dalzollene said to you as he came out of the room, “but just to make sure he doesn't do anything, I want you to wait in there until people from the community come for him.”

God fucking dammit.

“You think he'll be able to get out even with all of that?” you asked.

“No, but I want to make certain that he can't try anything,” he answered, “we've all seen what he's capable of, and I don't want to risk him bringing down this whole building just from his shout. If he looks like he's going to do anything, I want you to knock him out again. Among those of us who are left, you and Kurapika are the only ones who can do that easily.”

He sighed.

“And with how Kurapika has been acting, I can't trust him to not do something stupid, especially if he were to be left alone with him. So that just leaves you.”

“Okay boss,” you said, nodding slowly.

“If you think you can get any information out of him, then do it,” he continued, “but overall, just keep him in line.”

Dalzollene dismissed you with a wave of his hand, heading to the desk on the other side of the room, presumably to make whatever calls he needed to the community. You could hear him muttering something under his breath, something about wishing Baise were here instead.

Going back into that room was the last thing you wanted to do – especially when you would be completely alone with him – but you forced your legs to carry you back to that door.

Uvogin's eyes were on you the second you entered that room, making a chill run through you as he looked you over. You ignored it as best you could, situating yourself next to the door and leaning against the wall.

“So you'll be keeping me company while we wait for those mafia idiots to come and get me?” Uvogin asked.

You had really been hoping that he wouldn't talk, that he would be more like he had been in the car, or after he'd woken up. Dealing with him not speaking and staring at nothing would have been easier, but it seemed like he was riled up after Kurapika's outburst, and now you were the only one left for him to take it out on. And of course, now you had no excuse to disobey Dalzollene's orders to try and get information out of him.

“Looks like it,” you answered.

“Hm. Guess I lucked out with that,” he said, “you're easier on the eyes than some of those others in your group.”

'Please just shut the fuck up,' you thought to yourself.

“What, going to give me the silent treatment? You were pretty quiet earlier, too.”

He paused, thinking of something.

“You mad about your friends, too? Did we kill someone important?”

“.... Not really. I barely knew them,” you admitted.

He let out a low whistle.

“That's cold. At least that other guy cared.”

“It is what it is,” you said.

Maybe if you just kept your answers short, he'd give up on talking to you.

But probably not.

“So then this is purely business for you?” he asked.

You said nothing, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Is it worth losing your life over this?”

You couldn't help the way you tensed, and he chuckled at you when you when you crossed your arms over your chest. You were trying to appear nonchalant, but he saw right through it.

“It looks like the others have made their choice,” Uvogin said, “but my deal is still open for you: let me go, and I'll make sure you live.”

“I can't do that,” you answered.

“You were watching while I took out those mafia, right? You really think it's safer to side with people that weak? When I get out, you can be damn sure they won't be able to protect you.”

“If I let you out I'd need protection from them,” you snapped, “and right now I'm more scared of my boss than I am of some guy who's going to be tortured to death.”

“Hmm. Your boss, huh?” he said, looking back over to where the sword tip was still jammed into the breaker box.

“Can't say he impresses me. And you can't be anything special if a guy like that can keep you in line.”

Your eyes stayed on the floor, and you refused to react to the taunt. It wasn't like he was wrong.

“I can't help but wonder. Why the hell is someone like you involved with a mafia family?”

You stayed quiet.

“I asked you a question,” he growled.

His tone sounded dangerous, and it spurred you to reply.

“I need the money,” you said.

“What for?”

“That's private.”

He laughed.

“Well now I really want to know. What, you looking to save up for something? You got a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”

It wasn't anything like that, but you weren't about to explain yourself to him. You worried you might need to tell him something anyway. He seemed amiable enough at the moment, but it looked like his mood could change pretty fast.

“What's your name?” he asked suddenly.

“.... Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

Uvogin was the prisoner of the Nostrade family, and yet he was clearly in control of the conversation you were having as you complied with his request and told him your name.

“So how long have you been working for these idiots?”

“.....”

“Oh come on! Is it going to hurt that bad to answer a few questions? You said yourself that I'm going to be tortured to death, what's the harm in humoring a dying man?” he asked, “you think they're going to ask me about you?”

The 'you' at the end was virtually spat out, as if to cement the fact that you really meant nothing to anybody. Looking over to the camera that was in the far corner of the room, you wondered if Dalzollene could hear the two of you. If he could, he hadn't yet felt like he needed to step in. Your boss had told you to get information if you were able, but given how this was going, you weren't sure if it was possible to accomplish that.

“I... I only just started working for them,” you answered, “a lot of us were hired just for this job.”

“Just for the auction?”

“Yeah. Our boss wanted to bid on some of the items.”

“I'm guessing your boss wasn't among those that we killed,” he said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because why would you grunts go after us if there was nobody to sign the paycheck for you? If it was just one of you with a vendetta I'd get it, but all of you? Nah. The majority of you would have run off the second you lost your reason to care.”

…. His reasoning was pretty sound, though you hated to admit it.

“So who all did die at the auction?” he asked, “just a bunch of the new hires?”

“No,” you mumbled, “only one of them was.”

Uvogin scoffed.

“Too bad for them. But I'd say they were luckier than you.”

“They were lucky?”

“Yeah. They're deaths would have been pretty quick. But none of you are going to have a that luxury when the rest of the troupe finds you.”

It would be telling him too much to mention that you were almost one of those casualties. Originally you had been assigned to go to the auction with Tocino and Ivlenkov, but Baise had approached you and asked to swap places. She said that she was curious about the auction and wanted to see it for herself. It didn't matter much to you either way, so you had agreed, taking her place outside the auction house with Linssen and Basho. It was a simple decision, and one that had saved your life while it condemned hers.

Telling him all that would be far too much.

“You've gone quiet again,” Uvogin said, “you sure we didn't kill someone you cared about?”

“I told you, this is just business for me,” you answered, “I'm surprised you care at all. I would have thought it would be the same for you.”

“Oh, it's business for me as well. But this is a job I do because I enjoy it. If I see something I want, I take it. I don't give a shit about money.

“You'd probably be happier if you didn't care as much about money.”

“Good for you; not everyone can live like that,” you said dryly.

“More people should. It would make things more interesting.”

“I'm sure it would,” you sighed.

“Don't be like that. We'll probably be stuck in here for a while before those idiots come for me, so might as well make the most of it.”

“..... You're not worried about the community getting you.”

“Why should I be?” Uvogin asked, “you saw what happened with the Shadow Beasts, right? If that's the mafia's best, what do I have to be worried about?”

“Might be different when you're in custody,” you said, “they might have someone who can get through that nen shield of yours.”

Uvogin snorted.

“Doubt it. No one can take me down.”

“Except my colleague.”

Uvogin scowled at that and glared at you. You tensed again, readying your nen in case you needed to knock him out, unsure if he would let out another earth-shattering yell or start spitting pieces of human skull at you. With the strength and power he had demonstrated, you were grateful for the drugs Dalzollene had put into him, because the more you looked at that muscled body, the more you were certain that the restraints on their own weren't enough to keep him down.

“Yeah, except for him,” he hissed, “and you. I'd say it was impressive that you two incapacitated me and managed to not die afterwards, but sneak attacks have never done much for me, and they never work twice. Neither of you will catch me off-guard again.”

“I don't think we really need to,” you answered carefully, “you're not really going to be our problem after you're collected.”

He grinned at you again.

“Feel free to believe that.”

There wasn't much you could respond to that with, so you stood there in silence. The community couldn't get here soon enough. This situation was stressing you out more than anything else you had ever been through, and this was only your second day in Yorknew. If the mafia was able to get things under control, there would still be a few more days of the auction that you'd need to participate in for Neon's sake. And that was if the rest of the Phantom Troupe didn't try anything else for the rest of the days.

If the Phantom Troupe was as tight-knit as Uvogin was making them out to be, there was a chance they would come after all of you in retaliation.

Why the hell did you get yourself mixed up in underworld business?

“Oh, that reminds me – I might die before the community comes to get me,” Uvogin said.

“What?”

“That fat bastard from the Shadow Beasts infested me with leech eggs,” he explained, “apparently they're going to hatch inside of me and when they do I'll die. You might want to help me out with that unless your boss wants to hand over my dead body to the mafia.”

“..... I saw you being shot at by an anti-tank cannon. You seriously expect me to believe that you'd be done in by baby leeches?” you asked.

“It's a bit different when something is hatched inside of you,” he said, grinning as he continued “but I guess I can't force you. It's not like it's on me if I die before I can be interrogated.”

There was no doubt it would be bad if he died before he was in community custody, and since you were the only one with him, the blame would probably fall on you.

“How long before they hatch?”

“Who knows.”

The way he said that made it seem like he was lying, and with the way he grinned, it seemed like he knew that you knew and that you couldn't do anything about it. The man's body in the picture frame at the Nostrade mansion came to mind, and if that was what Dalzollene was capable of when it came to a slip-up, who knew what would happen if you failed on this.

Pushing off of the wall, you sighed.

“I can't take out the leeches,” you said.

“But,” you continued before he could say anything else “I can slow down their hatching process.”

Holding out your hand, another flower bloomed in your palm. This time it was a lotus. Just as you had done earlier, you blew on it softly, and the petals fell off and flew towards him, vanishing as they landed on his abdomen.

He watched in silence as the petals vanished before looking back to you.

“You said you were only slowing it down?” he asked.

“Yeah. I usually only use this to slow down a bad wound from bleeding out too much,” you explained, “but it should work for this. However long it'll take for those leeches to hatch, it'll take twice as long now. So if you only had 24 hours, it's now 48. That should be long enough for whatever the community does to you.”

“Hmm. You did something different in the car,” he mused, “what nen type do you have? Conjuration?”

You didn't answer, not wanting to tell him any more about your nen ability.

“So I'm right?”

“.....”

“C'mon, sweetheart. You can't answer that question?”

“I think I've been pretty good about answering your questions,” you said.

“Yeah, and I've got a feeling it's supposed to be the other way around. That boss of yours told you to interrogate me, right? And you can't even do that much,” he sneered.

“I came to the conclusion that trying to ask you anything would be a waste of time,” you snapped back, “you're not going to give me any meaningful answers so why bother talking to you about anything important?”

He seemed amused by your reply.

“Took you a while to finally snap. But how long will that last?”

'Stop responding,' you told yourself. That brief burst of anger that had built up purely because of how annoying he was insisting on being dissipated before he had even finished speaking, and by this point, you had just been ridiculed for far too long.

Uvogin demanded that you speak again, and even though you tensed again at the way he growled that order, this time you refused to say anything. He glared at you, and you readied your nen, preparing to knock him unconscious.

He tsked, but did nothing else, looking bored as he watched the ceiling. You didn't lower your guard, though, still watching for any sort of sign that he would try something.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, waiting for him to make a move.

When he did say something again, you managed to not come off as startled as you were.

“Was it also part of your instructions to be staring at me the whole time?” he asked, “not like I'm going anywhere.”

“I was under the impression that you liked having eyes on you.”

“Sure, I like the eyes of my victims on me before I kill them.”

You couldn't help letting out a little bit of a laugh at the corny threat. His eyes snapped over to you instantly.

“Something funny?”

His voice was low and dangerous, and the more sensible part of you knew that it was smarter to ignore him again. But the petty side of you wanted to see if you could upset him as a miniature vengeance for how the conversation had gone earlier.

“Yeah,” you answered, “I was just thinking that you're pretty lucky that it's me watching you and not one of my colleagues that you killed. She had the ability to make men fall in love with her by just kissing them. If she'd been here, she'd have had you spilling your guts about everything. She also would've had you liking the way you were tied up. Maybe have you begging her to step on you.”

You tilted your head to the side slightly as you smirked.

“That would have been pretty embarrassing for you, but it also would've been pretty funny for the rest of us.”

He didn't say anything.

You expected some sort of response. Maybe some outrage, maybe some threats, maybe even managing to flip your taunt back on you in some way and continuing to dominate the conversation as he had been the whole time. There was definitely anger in the way he looked at you, someone so much weaker than himself mocking him, but he still said nothing, just frowning as he looked back to the ceiling.

That made you more on edge than if he had begun to yell at you.

The air between you two was far more uncomfortable than it had ever been, and you found yourself wishing that the people from the community would show up already.

“You really don't pull off the tough act very well, sweetheart,” Uvogin said.

“But congratulate yourself on managing to piss me off.”

He said nothing more than that, continuing to stare at the ceiling as if he hadn't said anything at all.

Fuck you messed up.

The regret from saying the things you did hit you like a bucket of cold water. Why the hell did you do that?

The sound of the door opening made you jump, forcing you to stand to attention as Dalzollene walked in.

“The people from the community should be here soon,” he told you, “I'll meet with them when they arrive, so you go to the room where the others are.”

Before you could answer, you heard Uvogin scoff behind you.

“Making sure all of your subordinates are gone so you can get the full credit?” he asked, the distaste clear in his voice. He looked over to you, asking “why do you follow a guy like this?”

“You should be worrying about yourself, not her,” Dalzollene snapped.

He motioned for you to leave, which you did. You looked back one last time before the door closed behind you.

Uvogin looked bored again.

Not even five minutes had passed after entering the room with the others when Uvogin's roar echoed through the building, shaking the foundation and making you cover your ears in a feeble attempt to protect your hearing. There was no time to question what had happened; Melody ordered everyone to follow her, and you all did, running down to the express elevator and piling yourselves into the car as you heard walls being smashed behind you. For whatever reason, no one came after you, and you were all able to escape back to the hotel where Neon was staying.

It wasn't hard to figure that Dalzollene had been killed, and now there was no leader and a very angry spider who would be coming after you for revenge.

The events that followed were like a whirlwind for you: Kurapika was voted in as the new leader, Light Nostrade was coming in the next day to take Neon back, and then Kurapika realized that sensitive information regarding the Nostrades and the buildings they owned in Yorknew was available on the Hunter website, and from that, he had determined that Uvogin would find your current location. You'd then needed to move Neon and all of her things into a new room at the same hotel while Kurapika stayed in the top suite to wait for him.

“His focus will be on me,” Kurapika had said, “as long as the rest of you stay in the new room and don't come out, he'll leave you alone.”

You were happy to listen to his instructions and had been ready to wait for him to take care of Uvogin once he arrived.

But then Neon started complaining about something.

Evidently she had lost a cellphone charm, probably in the other room, and was throwing another tantrum until she could get it back. The two women who worked as her servants were, understandably, a bit nervous to go out into the halls while everyone waited for the spider to arrive. So you had volunteered to go for them, making a bit of a show for Neon as you said that you would go get it and for her to wait for you to come back. That had seemed to calm her down, and the one servant, Elisa, whispered a small “thank you” as you left. You weren't stupid enough to go back up to the top suite, however. The last thing you wanted was to be caught in the crossfire. So instead you planned to hang out somewhere on one of the lower floors, and then you'd go back up for Neon once you had gotten confirmation that everything was safe. Hopefully during that time the servants would be able to placate Neon until you got back.

You made your way down a few flights of stairs before picking a random floor where you would wait.

The door opened before you could grab the knob.

Uvogin stood there.

Time seemed to stop as the two of you looked at each other, his eyes widening in surprise as you looked at him in shock. You were completely alone with him, again, and this time there was nothing restraining him.

You were going to die unless you did something now.

It took only a few seconds for your nen to conjure a flower you could use to get out of this situation. But it was a few seconds too long. Before you could bring your hand up Uvogin had grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall in the stairwell, holding you at eye level so you were several feet off the ground. Your hands went up to your neck as you tried to pry his fingers off when he began to squeeze.

“I was wondering if I'd see you again,” he said, “I thought maybe you'd have run away from Yorknew after last night. Good to see that you stuck around.”

Black splotches were starting to appear at the edge of your vision, and you let out a pathetic wheezing sound as you tried to get in a breath.

“Need to breathe already? I guess I can do that if you do something for me first. Blink if you understand.”

The grip around your neck left you unable to concentrate and form something with your nen, so you complied, blinking at him.

“Good. Now, blink once for 'yes', twice for 'no',” he said, “is the chain-user up there?”

You blinked once.

“Good.”

True to his word, his grip on your throat relaxed slightly, and you took in a few desperate gulps of air while he chuckled at you.

“Not so fun when you're the one being held against your will, is it?” Uvogin asked. When you didn't respond, his eyes narrowed and he growled “huh? Didn't I ask you a question?”

“N-no...” you said, finally finding your voice.

“That's what I thought,” he sneered, “before the night is over that chain-user is going to learn a few things, too.”

He looked up at the stairway.

“I'm guessing he's waiting up there for me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, “he-he knew you'd be coming, and he wants to f-fight you by himself.”

That blood-thirsty grin appeared on his face and you shuddered.

“That's great. I can't wait to pummel that guy into nothing.”

He looked back to you.

“But what do I do with you? I can't just let you go, can I?”

His grip was becoming tighter again. Your struggles were renewed, clawing as best you could against him and trying to push him away with your feet.

“Wait-!” you began.

“Settle down.”

He pushed himself against you, the arm that held you up now pressing uncomfortably against your chest while the other went down to hold your leg in place against the wall.

“Where'd that sass from earlier go? Or were you acting like that just because you thought you were safe when I was chained up?”

“Wait-!” you tried again.

“Should've taken my deal,” said Uvogin, “then you wouldn't be here, begging for your life like a pathetic wretch.”

“No-!”

“The underworld is a nasty place, sweetheart. You should've realized that before you signed up for this. I gave you a chance and you threw it away. Now you have nobody to blame but yoursel-”

You had continued to struggle, your free legging pushing against him as best you could, and somehow, one of his legs had ended up between yours, and when his thigh had brushed against your clothed cunt, you gasped.

He stopped talking, looking slightly confused until he looked down.

Moments that felt like small eternities passed in silence while you continued to pull at his hand, managing to wrap one hand around his thumb.

Uvogin began to laugh.

“What, you like that?” he asked, pushing himself harder and grinding against you. You couldn't help the way you blushed, and the shame you felt was overwhelming when he continued to laugh at your expense. The noises leaving your mouth didn't help either, and they didn't stop even when you bit down on your lip to try and keep quiet.

“I didn't peg you for a slut, but I guess you learn something new every day,” Uvogin said, clearly enjoying himself as he continued his ministrations.

“Stop! I don't want this!” you yelled.

“Don't lie to me sweetheart. Not when it's written all over your face just how much you enjoy this.”

He grinned at you.

“You mentioned something earlier about me liking being chained up and wanting to be stepped on,” he whispered, “was that you trying to tell me what you wanted to see?”

“No!”

“I can't believe that. It was too specific of a thing to bring up without being into it. You liked seeing me tied up, huh? Do your colleagues know about that? Do they know how much of a desperate slut you are? I wonder....”

He trailed off, then leaned in closer to whisper directly into your ear.

“Do those nasty little kinks of yours go both ways? Would you like it if I chained you up and tossed you around? What else are you into? I'd love to find out.”

Your hands left his one that held your throat, pushing against his face to try and get him away from you. He didn't budge, not even slightly. All you accomplished was him laughing at you again while your pride was slowly torn to pieces.

Without any warning he let you go, and you tumbled to the floor in front of him. You scrambled back into the corner of the stairwell, one hand raised as you prepared to defend yourself. Uvogin remained relaxed, smirking down at your shaking form in the corner.

“Don't bother trying to do anything; I'm not going to let you hit me with that again,” he said, “if anything you should be grateful.”

“.... Grateful?” you asked incredulously.

“Yeah, because I'm going to let you live.”

“Huh?”

“Tch. That's all you can say to that?” he scoffed, “be a little more happy; you're not dying tonight.”

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Once I take care of that chain-user, I'll be back for you. I was actually thinking you might be worth leaving alive anyway; I think my boss might like certain aspects of your abilities. And once he's taken them, I'm sure he won't care if I keep you for myself afterwards.”

You were lost for words and could only shake your head at him.

“I told you earlier,” he said, “the underworld is a nasty place; you've got no one but yourself to blame.”

Finally, finally, he turned and began to make his way up the stairs, leaving you in that corner while you tried to process what just happened and the things he had said. You wanted to run, to at least get out of that stairwell and into a space that felt safer, but until Uvogin was further up those stairs and far away from you, you stayed still.

He paused when he began up the second flight of stairs, looking back to you and speaking your name in a way that made you tense again.

“You can try to run if you want,” he said, his tone more serious and seeming much more collected, “but if you try that, I will find you. And things will be much, much worse for you if you run away, you can count on that.”

He grinned, and somehow this one seemed deadlier than any other you had seen thus far.

“I'll be seeing you.”

And with that, Uvogin continued to make his way up the stairs and to the top suite where Kurapika waited. You heard his footsteps echoing against the metal of the stairs, getting softer as he went further and further up, but you still didn't move. Only when you could barely hear him on the stairs did you finally get up.

Bursting through the door, you all but scrambled to get to somewhere safe. You were a mess, your thoughts all over the place and emotions running wild, and all you could do was pray to whatever God might be listening that Kurapika would be able to dispose of that man.

In his state of zetsu, Shalnark standing behind a corner went unnoticed by you as you ran off. Had he not been listening to your conversation with Uvogin, he would have killed you right there. But instead, he smiled to himself, waiting until you were out of the way completely before entering the stairway himself and continuing to follow Uvogin as he had been all afternoon.

Kurapika didn't come back.

The late night had transformed into morning, and he didn't come back.

The immediate thought shared by the group was that he was dead, and the second one was that Uvogin was going to be coming back for the rest of you.

Basho and Melody were the ones doing best at keeping level heads and trying to keep the group calm. Just because Kurapika isn't back yet doesn't mean he's dead, Melody had told all of you. He'll be back, she assured you.

God you wished you could believe that.

It had been determined that you all should wait until Light Nostrade made it in, then he and Neon would leave with a few of the bodyguards while the rest moved to a different building to continue with the auction. At this point, bidding in an auction was one of the last things you wanted to do, but you had a bad feeling that you wouldn't be one of the lucky bodyguards that would be leaving with the Nostrades.

Uvogin's words repeated themselves in your mind, and every time his name was mentioned you couldn't help the way you shuddered. No one seemed to notice that, however.

Except Melody.

She caught you in the late afternoon when you were alone and asked what was troubling you, citing how rapidly your heart would beat when Uvogin's name was mentioned.

The emotions that you'd been trying to bottle up overflowed and you broke down, full-on crying in front of her as you told her everything. From the time with him in that room to when he'd caught you in the stairwell, you told her every little thing he had said to you, every threat he had made and just how terrified you were of him coming back to get you like he said he would.

Melody had been horrified at your confession, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, you felt genuine compassion from another human being. She held you and rubbed your back in a soothing motion as you sobbed into her.

“He won't get you, I promise,” she said, “everything will be okay. But I'll make sure that you go back with the boss tonight, alright?”

You didn't answer. You just tried your best to calm yourself, wiping away your tears while sobs still hiccuped from your throat.

“Maybe some fresh air would do you some good. Basho was complaining that there weren't any good snacks in the building. How about you run down to the store and grab some things for everyone?” Melody suggested.

“Should.. Should I really leave? Right now?” you asked.

“I'm sure it'll be fine. It's just a quick run to the store, right?”

“.... Okay.”

Grabbing a hoodie on your way out, you pulled up the hood and kept your face down, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying. It felt strange to run such an errand during a time like this, but maybe Melody was right and it would be good for you. And maybe by the time you came back, Kurapika would have returned.

With two plastic bags full of junk food and a few drinks, you had exited the convenience store at the corner, the bell on the door ringing as you stepped outside. There had been a bit of a line behind you so when you were given the change from the cashier, you had hastily thrown it into one of the bags as you were eager to keep the line moving. After leaving the store, you stepped to the side of the building, your back facing the street as you began to dig through the bag you had thrown the change into. It wasn't like it was even that much, but you didn't like the idea of just leaving it in there with everything else.

As your sole focus was on reaching around inside of that bag for the change that had made its way to the very bottom, you didn't notice the large group of people that had come up and were passing by you.

Not until you heard a familiarly deep, boisterous voice that made you freeze.

He was talking to someone, saying something about still being mad that they had followed him. A different voice responded saying that it was a good thing they had done that. There was an answer from him, but you couldn't hear it very well with the way your heart was beating in your ears.

The voices were getting further away now. You tentatively peeked out from under your hood to see if it really was who you thought it was.

Even from behind, there was no mistaking Uvogin in a crowd.

He walked with a group that you recognized some of as being the other spiders that were there with him on the night of the auction attack. Others you didn't recognize, but if they were traveling together, they must have also been part of the troupe. At the head of the group was what looked like a man in a long black coat, seemingly leading the group.

Right in the direction of the Nostrade's hotel.

You swore that your heart was beating so loud they all should have heard it and then you would have been at their mercy. But they continued walking, not paying attention to anyone else around them. Realizing that you hadn't taken a breath since you had heard Uvogin's voice, you let out a soft, shuddery breath as they walked further and further away. They were still close enough for you to see clearly when Uvogin gave a playful slap on the back to the samurai in purple robes, who stumbled forward slightly and began to curse out the taller man.

When he had pushed him forward, you noticed a small piece of folded paper that slipped out of his robes.

The group turned a corner, and only when you couldn't see any of them anymore and you could no longer hear any of their voices did you move, slowly walking forward down the sidewalk, constantly checking to make sure none of them came back as you went for that slip of paper.

Your hands were trembling as you picked it up. Why you were concerning yourself with something they had dropped you didn't know. There were more important things, like getting back to the hotel before them and warning the others, but your brain was in a horribly familiar panic-mode and you weren't thinking straight.

Unfolding the paper, you found a set of pictures – headshots of the Nostrade family bodyguards. Dalzollene's picture had been crossed out, but Basho's, Squala's and everyone else was featured.

But what truly sent you into a panic were the two pictures that had been circled in pen.

One was of Neon.

The other was you.

All you could hear for a bit was your own harsh breathing, unable to focus on anything else while you looked at that bit of paper.

He was doing as he had promised. Uvogin and those others were going back to that building and they were going to kill everyone and then take you.

The remaining time you had to warn the others was slipping away and you stood petrified as you tried to figure out what you could do.

You couldn't fight them.

None of you could. The only one capable of that was Kurapika, and if Uvogin was still walking around, then he had to be dead.

You couldn't fight them.

The paper and the convenience store bags you had been holding fell to the ground as you bolted off in the opposite direction. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you until you were out of breath and aching all over. And even then you continued running. Uvogin's words, the things he did and the way he looked at you were still fresh in your mind. You couldn't face that; you knew you wouldn't win and you just needed to do whatever you could to get away from him.

Even if it meant only saving yourself.

Your kept running, sometimes bumping into people or cars, ignoring them as they yelled at you so you could keep going.

When you were thoroughly exhausted and ready to fall over, you made it to the airport, taking a few seconds to stop and catch your breath, resting your hands on your knees as you were ready to heave out your lungs. One of the airships would have to be departing soon. Buying a ticket wasn't an option; you'd need to go with a riskier route.

You jumped the fence into the airfield and were stopped almost immediately by a security guard.

“I don't know what you're thinking,” he yelled at you, “but you'd better be ready to-”

You focused your nen and a hyacinth formed, and you blew at the petals in the direction of the guard. When the petals hit him, he stopped his rant and his gaze turned blank as he stared at you.

“Let me on to the next departing airship,” you ordered.

“Yes miss.”

He moved robotically, leading you to an airship at the end of the field. Luckily nobody else approached you two. When you controlled someone with this ability, you could only give them three simple orders, and you could only use it on only a few people during a short period of time, and you didn't want to waste any of it using the guard to keep people off your back.

When you reached the airship, you told him “go ask the stewards to meet me at the entrance. And when you're done with that, I want you to go back to your station.”

“Yes miss.”

Once your last order was completed, he would be out of your control and would have no memory of you or anything that happened.

After ordering the stewards to take you to an empty cabin and to not let anyone enter during the flight, you let them go, slumping down in the window side seat after you had locked the door. The airship was taking off, and soon you'd be away from this nightmare.

The others wouldn't, though.

The reality of the situation struck you then, that you really had just run off and left them to fend for themselves. Unless some miracle happened, they were going to die. Melody didn't deserve that. Neither did Squala. Or Basho, or any of the others working for the Nostrades. Neon was a brat and she had proven that she didn't care for you or anyone else who worked for her, but that really wasn't her fault. And even if it was, it didn't mean that she should suffer for it. Not like that.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around your knees as you curled up into your seat, cursing yourself for your cowardice and for just how pathetic you were as the airship lifted you higher.

The story you read months later was that of a mystery disappearance of multiple people in the hotel owned by the Nostrades. The bodyguards and employees had all vanished, leaving behind hotel rooms filled with signs of violence, but no sort of blood or bodies in sight. The only one left was a thoroughly traumatized Neon who could barely speak and was unable to offer any explanation as to what had happened. Not even her father was able to get her to speak. Nor could he get her to use her ability, and without his daughter's fortune telling, he lost that place he had carved for himself in the mafia community and quickly fell from grace.

The articles in magazines and newspapers focused more on that aspect of the story, of the millionaire who fell from his high social standing. No one seemed to care much about the people that had vanished. Very few articles mentioned the bodyguards, and fewer still bothered to name any of them. Your name had been listed in one of those articles as one of those who were missing, but what had made you sick was reading the names of the others and knowing that they weren't missing, but that they were dead.

'This was what you chose,' you told yourself bitterly. Instead of trying to take on the troupe in an effort to save them, you ran away like a coward. Though it wasn't like anything would have changed if you had confronted them, but maybe if you had, you wouldn't need to live with the guilt of knowing that you did nothing to try and help.

You were just too weak.

The world of the hunters, that thing that you had worked towards for so long, having gone through that exam so many times and coming so close to death every time you did, was no longer something you wanted to be apart of. The dream that you had of everything being alright in your life if you could just get that license was shattered after learning about nen. Even with that treasured license, you were still so horribly insignificant in this world, and the power that you held was ultimately meaningless in the long run.

After that eye-opening experience, and after everything you had been through in Yorknew, all you wanted was to go back to a normal life.

You sold your license and made a new home for yourself on the other side of the world, far away from Yorknew and anything remotely to do with the mafia community. You lived in a humble apartment and worked a decent job while you lived life with your head facing down, staying under the radar as best you could. Just existing with yourself as best you could.

Not a day went by that you didn't think about the people you had abandoned, or the words Uvogin had said to you on the stairs. That he would find you if you ran, and that the consequences would be worse for you if you did that. Months had gone by since that day, but your anxiety didn't allow you to relax in the slightest; he had been confident in his words, and after everything you had seen, you were certain that he wouldn't give up on finding you that easily.

Time had continued, and you were coming up on almost a year since the incidents in Yorknew. Returning late to your apartment after your shift, you were struggling to keep yourself awake as you slipped the key into the front door lock. You were ready to pass out as you entered, turning as you shut the door behind yourself. Had you been a bit more alert, you might have noticed the light that was on within your apartment that shouldn't have been on, or the shadow that loomed behind you the second you turned your back to lock the door.

What you did notice were the two strong arms that wrapped around your form and pulled you against a solid chest, and the breath that tickled against your ear as a terribly familiar voice whispered to you, putting you on full alert as you realized who held you.

“Gotcha.”

And like that, your time of living in hiding came to an end.

#yandere hunter x hunter #Uvogin #hxh uvogin #uvo x reader #yandere hxh #yandere #yandere x reader #kurapika #melody hxh #dalzollene #reader insert

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bloodycassian · 3 years

Text

** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes.

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

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"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake.

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood.

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second.

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed.

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around.

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master.

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then.

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

"Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place.

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

"I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up.

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury.

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible.

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking.

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked.

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern.

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal.

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation.

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you.

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

"Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon.

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider.

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles.

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby.

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing.

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time.

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

#azriel x reader #azriel #reader insert #acotar fic #acotar #cassian mention

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softmothprince · 3 years

Text

i rewatched angels of death with friends the other day so i blame that

also this is, like, five pages. 2,659 words. so it’s a long ride. enjoy <3

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Her eyes twitch as she keeps from them from rolling, face blank as she stares at the smug bastard in front of her. For the past… whatever time, he’s been standing in front of her and babbling about some kind of bullshit she totally wasn’t paying attention to. She just wanted to take the stuff she bought and go home, where her psycho waits.

While it would be so easy to just shut him down and walk out, everytime she tries to back out of the conversation he just keeps bringing up more questions and random shit. It’s when he tries to pull off what he thinks as a sly move that she finally was done with that and everything to do with this.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hand move, realizing what he wanted to try and do when it slid closer to hers. In one swift move, she pulls her hand from the counter and shoves them into her shorts pockets, giving the guy a disgruntled look. Her shopping bag dangles from one wrist, crinkling as it taps against her thigh.

“Even though this was so ‘fun’, I got better things to do than this.” She says, turning on her heel to walk away- only to be stopped when she sees a familiar man waiting across the street.

While hidden by the shadows, she can easily recognize the bandages on his hands and peeking out of his hoodie. She heaves a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck, before exiting the store. She ties the bag closed and lets it hang from her fingers, jogging across the street and towards the waiting man.

“Hey, I thought you-!” She’s cut off when he abruptly stands up straight and jerks towards her.

A strong hand grabs her arm and easily swings her into the alley, tugging her a good few feet away and around a corner before letting go. She stares at his back silently, watching his shoulders slowly move with his breathing, then opens her mouth to say- His palm suddenly slams into the bricks, startling her into jumping back and yelping.

He moved so fast she didn’t see him turn around and become so… close. She looks up at him, eyes widening at the wide grin he wore. While similar to his usual grin, something about it was more… heated. His other hand is loosely holding his scythe (she hadn’t seen it when she first spotted him- he must’ve had it in the alley), mostly resting it on his shoulder with the stained blade reflecting the light.

The wall is hard, cold and unforgiving on her back, but she ignores it in favour of the hand suddenly grabbing around her throat. She gasps, sucking in air quickly in case he decided to tighten his grip and choke her.

“Come on, little bitch. Who’s your daddy?” He growls into her ear, scraping the shell with his teeth and nips at it. His eyes narrow at her silence, making him lean in enough that their noses touch. “I said- who’s. Your. Daddy?”

“Can’t seem to- ugh, to recall anyone.” She gasps, mouth dropping open when he squeezes her neck tighter. “Agh- Isaac-”

“Aww, poor little bitch doesn’t remember. It seems like I’ll have to… remind you.”

With one final squeeze, he feels her fluttering pulse for a moment longer before letting it trail off of her completely. He makes sure to keep eye contact, only letting his gaze travel away when he sees her face turn a dark shade of red. As he turns away to take the familiar walk home, she opens her mouth again.

“You’re being ridiculous, Isaac. You know I belong to you and only you!”

Again, he moves so fast she has to take a step back and somehow presses more into the wall. He doesn’t grab or even touch her, only his breath hitting her face as their noses nearly bump together.

“HE TRIED TO TOUCH YOU!”

Her jaw clenches, bottom lip getting caught by her teeth as she holds back another snarky response. He squeezes the handle of his scythe, using it as an anchor of sorts. To keep him from taking his little bratty bitch right then and there in the alley. As much as he wants to stake his claim, he needs to wait.

With a loud huff through his nose, he spins on his heel and snags the bag she had dropped with two fingers. His shoes scuff against the gravel and stone, kicking them across the path.

“Now let’s go.”

~skip~

It surprises her that they even reached the living room before he pounced. His scythe and the shopping bag is discarded onto the floor as he reaches out and grabs the nape of her neck, dragging her the rest of the way to their room. She nearly trips a few times, but Isaac just jerks her up and pushes her along.

He doesn't even bother to shut the door before he is suddenly ripping and tearing at her clothes. The material of her t-shirt easily rips apart, exposing her skin to his greedy eyes. He wastes no time in running his hands over her breasts and hips, taking care of her shorts next.

She squeaks and tries to wiggle away while yelling: “Isaac! You can't just-”

“Too bad, you should’ve thought of that before being such a brat.” He grunts, letting the fabric drop onto the floor and going to her panties and bra. “I have no patience for this shit anymore so shut up while I do this.”

“Listen-”

“Like you did with that bastard?”

Her jaw almost clicks with how fast she snaps it closed. When she is finally stripped of all forms of fabric, he sits down and yanks her over his lap.

"Hands under your head."

She swallows, moving her hands from where she was gripping the blankets and crosses them to lay her head on her arms. Without warning, he lands one quick slap onto her ass, gripping the flesh and grins with a cackle when she yelps.

“Now, my little bratty bitch, I’m going to spank you and you are going to count each and every one of them. You misscount? I’ll start over. Give me lip? I start over. You do anything I don’t think is good girl behavior, I start over.” He tilts her head back by grabbing her hair and pulling, leaning over to stare into her glazed over eyes.

“Do you understand my rules?”

“...yes.”

A loud slap, followed by him tugging her hair tighter into his fist.

“Yes. What? Address me properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hums, rubbing his hand over the red skin. His finger occasionally pressed onto a dark bruise scattered here and there, remembering when he made those little hickies two days prior. Then, a loud smack echoes around them, being drowned out by her yelp.

"Count."

"O-one."

Smack.

"Two."

Smack.

"Thr-ree~"

Her ears ring from the sound of her own voice and the loud slapping of Isaac's palm on her bare ass. She made the mistake of shifting over his lap after counting to ten, resulting in him growling and telling her to start over. There would be no sitting later, she can already tell.

Slap.

"Tw-twen-twenty…" She gasps, nails digging into her palms.

She waits for another one, but is both relieved and slightly upset that he rolls her off his lap and onto the bed. The cool sheets feel strange on her stinging flesh, but she ignores it as her legs are shoved apart to show her soaked cunt. The inside of her thighs were slick and sticky.

"That really turned you on? What a slut." He scoffs, yet a wide smirk spreads across his face when she whines. "You like being called a slut, huh little bitch? My little slut is more like it."

He trails his fingers up her leg and skirts over her hip bone, pressing his palm against her stomach to hold her down when his other hand toys with her pussy. His fingers slip inside with just a small push, obscene sounds ringing in her ears as he moves them.

“I-Isaac…”

“This cunt is mine, you got that? I caused this mess between your thighs and it’s gonna stay that way.” He purrs, leaning down to cover her nipple with his mouth and strokes his tongue in time with his fingers.

He switches to her other breast as his thumb pushes and rubs her clit, growling in satisfaction when she cries out and bucks her hips up.

“Who do you belong to?” He asks, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes.

She swallows and gasps, before closing her mouth with a bratty grin appearing. Though it quickly vanishes when he roughly scrapes his fingers inside her pussy, aggressively rubbing her g-spot.

“I said: Who. Do. You. Belong. To?”

“Yo-you! Please, pl-EASE~!”

His thumb disappears from her clit and he pulls his fingers out, cutting off any stimulation. He digs his nails into her hips, holding them in place while she spasms and growls at him in frustration.

“Not good enough, princess. Up.”

He grabs her wrist and tugs her up, making her straddle his hips while he leans back onto the mattress himself. His clothed dick rubs her pussy and clit, the material of his jeans sending jolts up her nerves, before he shoves her to sit on his thighs.

“Go on, my little bitch. Take out my dick.” He purrs, rubbing and squeezing her thighs. Maybe if she was a good girl, he’ll make her sit on his face and suffocate him with those thighs~

She whines, going to grind against his leg- only to be stopped when he lands a slap onto her still stinging ass.

“What did I say? Do it before I leave you to squirm.”

She knows he wouldn’t. They both know he wants to jump her and never stop. So, with a small pout, she unloops his belt and tosses it to the floor, popping the button of his jeans and tugs them and his underwear down his thighs until she can pull his dick out. It’s an angry red, drooling precum down the shaft, bobbing when she gently touches it.

As she goes to try and stroke it, he grabs her wrist with a narrow glare. It’s a silent threat, but she picks it up easily and nods with another pout. Her knees sink into the bed as she rises up on them, moving to angle his cock head with her hole. Swallowing the saliva threatening to drool out, she slowly lowers down.

His cock pushes through with little to no difficulty, rubbing all the right places. Before reaching the hilt, she stops and pulls her head out from his shoulder, looking into his eyes with a slightly uncomfortable look.

“Isaac it- I can’t-”

“Come on, you can take it.” He grumbles, digging his fingers into her hip and forces her the rest of the way down. The sudden rough thrust almost makes her cum, but his strength keeps her from moving. “You cum right now, I will put you over my knee again.” Isaac’s teeth abuse the shell of her ear, nibbling enough that teeth marks appear.

He bites the crook of her neck next, before tangling his fingers into her hair to pull her backwards. This allows him to lean down and nibble around her breasts, moaning into the valley between them.

“Fuck, I love your tits. I love how they look with my teeth and marks all over them~”

“With how often you bite me, they never look diffe-RENT!”

She chokes on her words when he suddenly lifts her up and drops her back down, slamming his cock deep inside her.

“What was that, little bitch? Got something to say? Go on, say it.” He mumbles against her chest, picking her up again and letting her fall back down.

Her mouth drops open, the only sounds pouring out being moans and curses. He is easily reminded why his favorite sound is her choking out his name.

“That- ugh, that the best you go-got?” She pants, squealing when he suddenly grabs her throat again.

He falls back flat onto the bed, pulling her with him and forcing the angle of his cock to change. And if the loud sob she let out tells him anything, he found that little spot of nerves.

“You may be on top, but-” He jerks her down more, brushing their lips together with a manic grin. “I still own you. Your heart, mind, body- everything is mine.”

She can hear her response in her head, but all that comes out of her mouth is a loud sob followed by begging. Isaac turns his head away, choosing to focus on the skin of her neck that isn’t covered by his hand. He sucks and nips at the supple flesh, traveling down to her collarbone and shoulder.

His teeth sink into her shoulder, making her throw her head back with a loud sob. The hands around her neck and hip are so tight she can feel the bruises already, yet the sting from his bite overpowers them.

“Mineminemineminemi-MINE!” His voice cracks when he cums, hips faltering for only a moment before going back to the brutal pace. “Take it- take my cum. Take all of it. I’m gonna stuff you so there is no denying who you belong to. You’ll be dripping for days.”

The deep groans rumbling from his chest occasionally hitch into a higher tone, before dropping back down. Once satisfied, he slows his thrusts until he finally just presses their hips together, sitting still. They both shake and breathe heavily, fingers unclenching from bruised and bleeding skin, rubbing the spots silently.

With a soft, slightly higher groan, he pulls out and briefly sits up to look between her legs. Her pussy is swollen and red, drooling a mix of their cum onto the bed. He lets out a satisfied sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it as he looks around the room.

When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, Isaac stands from the bed and leaves his girl trembling and still riding her high. She hums and curls her fingers into the blankets, letting the soft material ground her. The mattress dips again, alerting her of his presence.

His fingers gently tap her thigh, warning her before he presses a wet cloth to the sensitive flesh. Small sighs pour out from her lips, her head rolling around when the cloth pushes against her clit. She barely registers him moving her around, feeling him slip a shirt over her head and a pair of panties up her legs.

The warmth of his body disappears and she feels the bed move as he gets up again, before it sinks beside her and a soft blanket is tugged over her body. The feeling of Isaac touching her cheek makes her eyes flutter open, finding said man (now in his lounging clothes) laying next to her silently.

His eyes look over her face, taking in the sweat and red flush. Without a word, he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, trailing his hand from her face to gently stroking her pulse with his thumb. He could easily choke her like this, see the light disappear from her eyes as she struggles-

He tilts his head, laying his lips softly over hers and huffs in amusement when she mumbles incoherently. Her fingers curl loosely around his wrist, holding it in place around her throat. A silent form of trust. He snorts, moving to grab her hand and lifts it to his lips to press a kiss to it, before curling his arms around her.

“Brat.” He whispers, hiding his face into her hair.

She smiles, nuzzling into his collarbone.

“I’m your brat. Don’t forget it.”

#angels of death #isaac foster #zack foster #x reader #fem reader #isaac foster x reader #zack foster x reader #writing #lemon #possessive #i love them tall and crazy

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shelby-love · 4 years

Text

JAY HALSTEAD

Bomb Squad Alternative

Requested: yes

Prompts: none

Warning(s): none

Author's note: Here is another crossover between firefighter Y/N and Jay Halstead. Hope you enjoyed since I’m really proud lol. Personally I think this would be a great episode.

Requests for Jay are open again so send in your ideas! I’m thinking about putting out Christmas prompts since I’m feeling festive. Also, I’m quarantied :( went to test yesterday and I’m waiting for the results to kick in. I feel fine so I shouln’t worry but I still do yk? Anyhow, school is a b and I’m doing online atm (maybe high schools will switch to online completely until Christmas but who knows at this point).

It’s also exam weeks so that’s why I’ve been lacking time to get back to writing.

Now perpare for me to get on my knees for you at the end of this one shot. <3

“Everyone get out of the station!” You exclaimed, barging through the train station with the rest of 51. Your loud voices and heavy gear alerted everyone enough to get them to move back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A police officer questioned, throwing an accusing eyebrow your way.

Your lieutenant left you to the police officer’s mercy with a nod of his head. You sighed, turning to the man but still keeping a steady pace with the rest of your team. “There is a bomb threat, we need to evacuate the train station.”

“A bomb threat? I didn’t get a call,” He fought, looking around as if the bomb might be anywhere. Which was true.

“The intelligence is on their way, but I suggest you give us some room to do our job,” Matt joined his voice with you to explain. Although he quickly returned to shouting.

Soon enough, you saw two dark clothed figures march down the stairs towards you. Your boyfriend came striding down towards all of you, his blue eyes assassinating the surrounding situation.

Until they fell on you.

He looks good, you allowed yourself to think. Admiring his lean figure - the leather jacket covering his muscular arms and proud CPD badge at his hip - you watched as he stalked towards you. The old lady that was clutching to your side shakily suddenly became invisible to your eyes.

You weren’t surprised to see his jaw tick at the sight of you, which made you shake your head in annoyance. Helping the lady catch the arms of a fellow firefighter became your priority. You watched as she walked outside on unsteady legs.

“Y/LN, Casey.” Your chief grabbed your attention, “What’s the situation?”

“Still no sight of the bomb chief,” Matt said. “We’re trying to get out as many people as possible.”

“It’s rush hour Chief,” You breathed, glancing at Jay for a second before giving Wallace your full attention. “The next train will be here in 10 minutes. If this bomb has a timer then that’s exactly when it will go off. We need the bomb squad here now.”

“Understood. Voight?”

The sergeant looked at Jay who shook his head. “Stuck in traffic.”

You caught Matt muttering a violent curse under his breath, which only tempted you to do the same.

“Chief we need help!”

Severide’s shout brought you and Matt to your senses immediately. There was no time to think as you both ran towards him with your heavy gear on both your shoulders.

“Y/N stop!”

It was Jay who made you halt in your tracks to turn around. “What?”

He reached for your elbow, and with ease pulled you away. “Look I...”

You knew what was going on in his head. His protective nature over you often interferes with many things, including your job. But not today.

“I know you’re worried Jay, okay?” You reasoned, gloved hands grabbing his forearms in reassurance. “But this is my job. Trust me - I hate that we’re put in this situation but there’s nothing we can do except have each other's back.”

Jay let out a loose breath of fear before masking it under a facade of blankness. He waved his hand at the police officers, giving them a sign to follow him. “Be careful.”

You bobbed your head before planting a kiss to his cheek and running back to the scene.

The sight in front of you broke your heart.

A tiny boy with tears coloring his face sat at the bench with his foot dangling over the edge, connected to what looked like a time bomb. He was all alone - barely even 7 years old, with a bright yellow beanie covering his blonde curls. Rosy tear stained cheeks, and blue eyes filled with fear made you drop on your knees immediately.

Carefully, you approached him. The fear that brew inside was pushed aside and you plastered on a smile. “Hi buddy. My name’s Y/N. We’re here to help you”

You seized the ticking bomb and managed to decipher the numbers. Shaking your head, you ignored the buzzing of your anxious heart and grabbed your radio, dialing. “We have three minutes chief. No time to wait for the bomb squad. I have to do it.”

***

Jay looked at the police officers who surrounded him in an uneven half circle, and shook his head. He could see the men trembling, hands shaking and beads of sweat appearing at their foreheads.

“Alright listen up,” He boomed. “We need to evacuate immediately. Threaten with arrest, I don’t care. Just get the civilians out of here.”

They nodded in sync, each man letting out a different toned response before leaving him be to watch what was revealing a few yards away. Jay wouldn’t admit it, but he was shaking inside. His fingertips itched to grab your heavily clothed body and swing you over his shoulder in an attempt to keep you safe... No matter how chauvinistic that sounded.

But Jay Halstead had decided to date a strong woman. A dedicated feminist at that - a woman that refused to be manhandled unless it was to take her to bed when she desired.

Now he watched her - you - shout and shove around the train station, desperate to do what his job was too. Was he a bad man for not really caring if that man that just brushed his expensive suit against his shoulder came out of there safe? He only had eyes on you, so that’s why he spent moments watching you work around like a hawk.

And then you kneeled, and your colleagues stepped out of the way. Without his permission, his dark brows bunched together and his eyes narrowed at your stature. What are you doing?

His answer fell from the sky quickly - although not literally. Voight and Boden strode to his side to discuss the situation.

“There is no time to wait for the bomb squad,” Boden said roughly, his jaw clenching. “If that bomb isn’t deactivated within the next 3 minutes not only is that boy going to die...everyone on this block will.”

Voight knew what he meant by that. Thousands of casualties. Not only will Chicago lose millions of dollars worth of repair if the block blows up - as first responders what came to their minds were the civilians. How many of them will die or be injured because of a simple mistake of following protocol and waiting? They had a firefighter there, on the scene, ready to disable the bomb and save them.

Only that firefighter was you. And that made their decision ten times harder to make.

But Boden was sure in you, and so was Voight. “Okay. Do what you gotta do.”

Wallace nodded, griping his radio. “Y/N. Go for it.”

Y/N? Jay couldn’t believe his ears. It completely slipped his mind that you had been trained for this. At that moment, his body and mind said no. He forgot all about equality you have been trying to tattoo into his mind. You were you at that moment. A simple girl he fell in love with and wanted to protect.

“What the hell Sarge?!”

***

“Okay,” You sighed enthusiastically, hoping to divert the boy’s attention to your relaxed posture. “I need you to be really still for me. Can you do that?”

The boy could barely nod as Sylvie held his head still in the cervical collar.

“What’s your name?” Sylvie asked him, ignoring the fact that two minutes were left on the clock. You went straight to work the moment his attention was diverted and his leg was no longer shaking.

Swiftly, you grasped the leg of his pants and pulled it up, revealing the leather that was sunk in his flesh. You winced, “His leg circulation is bad.”

“Just focus on the bomb,” She reassured you quietly.

You grabbed the equipment and started to work on disabling it. Each step was more difficult than the other. You felt yourself tremble as the end seemed to never come any closer to you no matter how much you reached for it. “Go.”

“What? We’re not leaving you.“ It was Severide who spoke, only a meter or two away from you. Shaking your head at another trap within the system you decided that you needed all the help you could get.

1 minute.

“Jay?” You murmured against the radio - Jay’s reply was instant.

“Y/N you can do this,” his voice was raspier through the line, more prominent and harsh. Nevertheless, his words soothed you.

“I need help,” you told him. “You said this man is crazy right? Well I think there’s a story here. These wires mean something. Blue, white, yellow.”

You weren’t allowed to go for it... not when so many lives were at risk. This man was smart, that much you knew. There has to be a meaning behind the colors.

Jay could help you more than anyone. You knew it. He knew it too.

Blue, white, yellow.

***

“Blue, white, yellow.” He mumbled, not allowing himself to look at his watch. You didn’t have much time, he knew it - Jay just didn’t want a definite reminder of it.

He rocked his brain for explanations. For a clue within this case. Something.

30 seconds.

“Everyone evacuate now!” Boden shouted into his radio. Jay shut it out. His voice didn’t matter. Only you did.

Like an eagle, he searched for you and found you: crouched in front of the yellow capped boy, acting like his anchor he could hold onto. He couldn’t see how shaky you were from afar, he could only hope you were okay.

10 seconds.

“Jay!”

Yellow.

“This kid was his last target. He looks for the details,“ He explained to you. “Yellow.”

***

Like his beanie. You casted a stray glance at the boy, flashing him a tight lipped smile. The puffy beanie that was supposed to protect him from the cold just became the thing that saved his life. And the poor boy didn’t even know it.

3...

This is it.

2...

You didn’t think, only did what Jay told you. You cut through the yellow wire and stop the ticking destruction at the last second.

No sound is heard.

No man moves.

Only rigid breathing of your own manages to make its way inside your ears.

And then the boy starts to wail. His cries turn into what look like never ending sobs. You were glad he’s crying, and not in a bad way. The sound he started to make was a clear indicator of your survival. The bomb didn’t go off. You were safe. You never felt more alive.

Your friends swiped you in their arms immidiately. Every firefighter gave you a congratulation you never thought you would recieve. You just disabeled a bomb.

And it looked like you were the only one shocked.

Still shaking, your eyes searched for the man that helped you.

But Jay was already there, and by the time you turned around to search for him he had his fingertips around you. With a clean tug he pushed you against his chest and hugged you. His breathing was just as harsh as your own, but inside - he never felt prouder.

“You had my back,” you mumbled. Jay pulled a moment later, his blue eyes gazing down at you before he laughed. Laughed. “You were amazing baby.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Now let’s get you out of here.” He smiled, slipping his hand into yours and pulling you towards the exit. You were cheered after of course, it made your heart swell with pride.

On your way outside you saw the bomb squad, standing in lines next to their equipment. “Nice work guys.” Jay said sarcastically.

The two of you made your way to the shaky boy to make sure he was alright. People were gathered outisde, now that the threat was removed. Each and every one of them had their eyes glazed with tears of relief.

Their homes were safe. Their families were too.

Boden gave you the rest of the day off, and Jay was the one to drive you home.

“Let’s hope our work doesn’t clash like that ever again.”

“I agree,” Jay said quietly and pressed his lips safely against yours.

MASTERLIST

###

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

Step four

CW: Congratulations reader-chan! You’re expecting! Illumi also really cranks up the yandere side, nothing too bad, but he’s definitely not proving to be a stable man in this part.

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi found his mother in the family library, doing some research for a job she'd gotten. "Mother, sorry for interrupting, but I have a rather pressing dilemma with my relationship." He said, and he could see the woman perk up slightly, but she only hummed and stayed focused on her research, "Sorry dear, I can't help right now, maybe try Gotoh." She spoke casually, but he could see in her body language that she was dying to hear about her eldest son's relationship. "I was wondering if it would be inappropriate to bring her here so soon." he added, and like that her research was forgotten and she was instead offering him a seat beside her. So, he sat in the intricately carved wooden chair and filled her in on his dilemma with the concerns for your safety after finding out Hisoka knew your name, and the concern of pushing you away unnecessarily. "I don't want to put her in danger, but my research on dating says that bringing her here is something to do later on, when we've been together for more than a month." he explained, his mother digesting the information before speaking, "This is a rather delicate situation...but since Morrow is here, it should be safe to leave her where she is. Maybe set some butlers as constant bodyguards, but hold off on bringing her around here. At least until I can prepare! Oh I'd have to get the chefs to cook a special meal for when your father and I finally meet your partner, and the mansion will have to be meticulously cleaned, and the gardens tended to!" Illumi sighed as his mother rambled on a tangent about how this sort of conflict was always so romantic in the novels she'd read and how she'd have to make sure the family was perfect so as to leave the best possible impression on you. "Mother, I am being serious. I have worked with Hisoka before, he's a dangerously clever man. I don't want to risk him harming my future spouse," he reminded the woman, who savored her excitement for a moment longer before regaining her composure, "I'm sorry dear, I just get so happy when I think about my sweet baby boy finally settling down," she said somewhat wistfully, and the assassin inwardly groaned. He was the eldest of at least five, he was far from her baby anymore, but he couldn’t really remind her of that without sending her into a sobbing fit. "anyway!" she chirped, drawing him back from his blank staring and practiced way of spacing out when she took advantage of the fact she was the only Zoldyck allowed to be mushy like this, "I really do think you should leave her where she is, at least for a bit longer. Once she comes to this mountain she won't be able to leave easily, and I'd hate for your future wife to turn out to be some spy or desperate journalist." While she said it in honesty, her voice lacked any real remorse. If you did turn out to be a threat, even Kikyo wouldn't hesitate to squash you like a bug. I think out of everyone to have after (y/n), mother would be the worst. Illumi thought as he pondered his mother's words, agreeing to keep you at your home for the time being. So, for the next few weeks Illumi alternated between jobs and returning to stalking you, but until he could rein in the possessive urge to kidnap you, he kept his distance. When he couldn't watch you himself, like when he was torturing Hisoka for adding extra steps to that job, he made sure someone was still there to ensure nothing bad happened to you. Another bonus of this set up he found was that the servants he had hidden nearby to watch you were able to warn him when you started acting odd. They couldn't exactly place why you were suddenly so anxious and slightly distraught though, so the ebony-haired assassin decided to finish the job he was on quickly when he found out and return to his secondary home. About a day after he'd returned, in the late afternoon, you knocked at his door, as he was expecting. "Hello," he hummed as he opened the door to find you standing in the slightly chilly daylight fidgeting anxiously, "Um...I think we need to talk." You said, your words shooting an arrow of anxiety into his heart, Is she going to break up with me? Should I have brought her home sooner? Should I just grab her now? he asked himself, his dark, empty eyes scanning over your form to glean any information he could from your body language while he wrangled in his moment of panic, No. Invite her in, if she really is about to break up with you she'd be easier to subdue where no one can be a witness. he told himself, temporarily quelling the urge to snatch you up and refuse to let you go again and instead inviting you inside to talk out of the cool late spring air. Once inside you sat on his couch, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to mind the bit of mess in the room that Illumi was swift to sweep under the couch or toss out of sight. Your tense mood drove Illumi crazy, but he skillfully hid the fact that he was growing impatient with waiting and beginning to plan out a way to sedate you and take you home, keeping his focus on the dirty clothes he was throwing behind the chair and the garbage he was shoving into his pockets. simply sitting beside you after a while, awaiting whatever bad news you might have for him. Is she really going to try and break up with me? Damn it, I should've never let my mother talk me into this whole 'dating' thing. He thought bitterly, his own sliver of anxiety adding to the tense, heavy air you had already created. However, after an excruciatingly long stretch of time, you took a deep breath, "Illumi, I t-think I'm...pregnant." you forced out, not looking at the dead-eyed assassin as the two of you fell into another stretch of silence while Illumi processed this news. Pregnant? We've only had sex twice, is she really that fertile? He pondered, an honest smile spreading across his usually expressionless face after it set in. In a flash, he'd jumped up and scooped you up, hugging your possibly smaller body to his tightly, making you squeal, "this is wonderful news!" he said, making you smile and turn a light pink, "Oh, well if I'd known you'd be so happy about it, I wouldn't have stressed so much," you laughed awkwardly, letting Illumi hug you for a moment longer before he put you down again and cleared his throat, his face returning to his bland expression, "Though, this does put a rush on putting together a wedding." he hummed, not noticing the way your eyes widened "uh? w-wedding?" you squeaked, drawing his attention out of his thoughts and back to you. Your panicky expression was rather cute to him, you were so innocent, "Well yes, I was originally planning to take things slow, but now I can't afford to wait. Not to worry though, I'm sure my mother will help you plan it," he assured, but judging by the increasing panic in your (e/c) eyes, it didn't work, "is something wrong, (y/n)?" "I-I don't want to marry you?" You squeaked, and while your words did sting, he knew this might happen, "Well, I can't let you parent this child without me, and marriage is the perfect way to ensure I stay involved as well as that you and our child are safe from harm." He explained, but you shook your head, "Illumi, no! It's only been a-a few months since we've started dating, it's far too soon to marry!" you tried to explain, but he waved your arguments away, "dating is already a redundancy, I've been very patient in waiting this long before moving on to marriage," he explained, getting a bit annoyed at your horrified look. It was intriguing to see you get flustered and slightly scared, but marriage was not something that deserved this sort of reaction. He sighed, I can't let this continue, the stress is not good for the baby, he reminded himself before speaking again, "Please explain to me why you are so against getting married. I don't think I'm understanding your points clearly enough." For a moment, you struggled to find words, obviously confused and shocked, but he made sure to be patient, "I-Illumi, it's too soon for marriage, that's something for later on down the road, i-if we even make it that far." You tried to explain, but the assassin grimaced, so you spoke again "Plus, it's perfectly fine if we don't get married before the baby's born, we can still parent them together," Your words made his expression darken further. Finally, you sighed dejectedly, "or...I could always just termi-" Illumi cut you off by grabbing you by your shoulders, his grip tight, nearly painfully so he was sure, but he was not about to allow the entertaining of such ideas, "You will NOT harm that baby, (y/n)." he said darkly, watching tears well up in your (e/c) eyes from fear and maybe pain. That made him calm down, he had to keep his temper in check before his malicious aura was the one to harm his future wife. "If you try anything to put yourself or our baby in danger, I will be forced to keep you under strict observation." he warned, his voice not holding any room for argument when he spoke, but than he tried to relax, hugging your slightly shaking form to him again. "It'll be okay, mother will plan a good wedding and you'll be a good mother when the baby's born." he assured, running his hand through your (h/l), (h/c) hair in an attempt to calm you down and show that despite his flash of temper, the excitement of your good news still zapped through his veins. "I'll keep you safe, i promise." He could feel the shiver his words sent through you, but fear was easier to manage than defiance. After a moment though, he let you go again, "I'll have some butlers help you pack your most necessary things, tomorrow I'll take you to the estate." he decided, and when you went to argue again he gave you a cold look, "you can't say anything that will change my mind. The Zoldyck estate is the safest place for you, so go home and pack." he ordered, his tone firm enough for you to get the message. You didn't get a choice.

#yandere illumi #x reader #yandere #illumi x reader #Illumi zoldyck #hxh #fanfiction #quotev #part 11 #hunter x hunter

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solitaryspirits · 2 years

Text

han jae song

A white box with a heavy black ribbon sits directly in the middle of Simon’s small office desk. He doesn’t get much room in the labs, but his computer, documents, and archives need a place stored away from any specimen. The majority of his reports are outgoing - updates, lab work, test results, all sent back to various doctors within the hospital. Mail shouldn’t be sent there. After his coffee cup rests next to the keyboard, Simon inspects the box closer. Other than the thick ribbon, the box lacks any identifiable marks, no signature, not even his name inscribed on a card and tucked underneath. For a time, Simon sets the box to the side - work always piles up in his off hours, emails to write, advice to offer, more reports to send...if the day were longer, Simon still wouldn’t have the time to dwell on the box’s contents.

So of course Simon’s thoughts routinely draw back to it regardless.

The cursor of a blank email burns into his irises until Simon can’t stare at another document or digitally scanned photograph of skin cells. In the privacy of his closet office, Simon draws the box back to the center of his desk. He tugs at one strand of the ribbon, then the other, and frees the box of its dressing. His fingers pluck at the corner to remove the lid. Simon had assumed the box would hold a delicately written death threat, a new assignment from his former employer, a new mystery to add to the strange town of Salem itself. A literal, bloody heart, did not make the list of Simon’s own assumptions.

Lifting the human heart up with his surplus of latex gloves reveals a single note in the bottom of the box written in the only script Simon knows better than his own. Are we friends? Simon enjoys a good riddle, but this was a puzzle he needs no time to solve. He would know that writing both in this life, in the next, and whatever were to come after. As if cradling a child, Simon rests the heart back in its place. From his own personal collection of jars, Simon fills one with the pure methanol he uses as an antiseptic to place the heart inside. He holds the jar up to the light and watches as the organ bobs around in the liquid, then falls to the bottom. He leaves it secluded on his office desk that night - its a gift he intends on sharing with no one else.

Its late in the evening of the next day that Simon stands in front of Han Jae’s home. Enemies, rivals, friends...enemies, friends, lovers...a single word could never be enough to define the extent of their relationship, but Simon hopes the gift of his own that he offers between his hands does a better job than his words ever could. He doesn’t let himself into Han’s home, despite still keeping his hold on the key. When Han opens the door, Simon didn’t expect to find him dressed so well - the scent of Han’s cologne seems to linger through the opened door. Still, Simon raises the deep blue pot up from between his hands.

“Were you expecting someone? I made dinner for you. Will you allow me inside?”

@sin-tentional

#sin tentional #han jae song #han jae song; simon muhn #simon muhn; threads #// you've asked me more than thrice at this point #// yes i know i wrote 5 paragraphs and two sentences of dialogue but i wont apologize idc #// you shouldve expected this lol #// also ily

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

22. “Mine.”

36. “Could he make you feel as good as i do?”

notes; pantherhybrid!minghao, bunnyhybrid!reader, side bunnyhybrid!chan x reader, posessivedom!minghao, dirty talk/degradation, dumbification/name calling, breeding kink, restraints, sloppy seconds ☠️ also the way i read this and thought it was asking for a drabble where minghao storms over while the other two are fucking and makes it a threesome (altho imagine him making chan watch wheeww🥵) kdjfhsdkjh i cannot read 🤣🤣 LOL technically you dont need to have read that previous drabble for this one but i’ve tried to link it right here! Also!! I had an inbox msg floating around of someone mentioning an addition to a sequel to the original drabble as well but with Minghao going thru heat, if that was you, can you please send in ur request again bc the original request isn’t in my inbox so tumblr must've eaten it 😭 Anyway, thank you for requesting! Enjoy! 💕

“Ngh, C--Chan… Harder… Please, I want it h-harder!”

“Ah, I--o--okay…” Groaning, he snaps his hips the tiniest bit harder; body rocking into yours as he fucks you from behind. You bite your lip in return, sobs threatening to spill when it’s not enough.

You still wanted more.

Thoughts of Minghao flood your mind, pussy clenching around Chan who moans when he feels how much tighter you get around his cock. “I, fuck, ‘m gonna cum!” He cries out, cock throbbing inside of your pussy as you squirm underneath him.

The warmth of Chan’s cum floods your body and you let out a soft groan; noises muffled by the bed sheets as you rub your face into them.

You needed more.

*ding dong*

“Was---was that the d-door?” Chan slurs out, body slumped over yours as he catches his breath.

“I… t-think so?”

He sighs contentedly, sliding his cock from inside of you as globs of cum trickle down your inner thighs and drip down to the bed sheets. “Just stay here, I’ll get dressed and check.” You hum in agreement, waiting until you hear the door shut before you flop onto your back; Chan’s cum still dripping out of you as you whimper.

Chan checks his hair in the mirror on the way to the door, running a free hand through his mussed locks before twisting the doorknob open.

“Hi, can I---whoa.”

Chan’s hit with Minghao’s dominating aura the second the door flies open and Minghao shoots the younger male a sultry smile, eyes glimmering with equal parts threat and playfulness when he leans up against the doorframe. “I take it your… ‘session’ is done here?” He drawls, “You should let me take it from here.”

“Why exactly should I let you in?” Chan makes an attempt to seem threatening to the panther hybrid, body tense as he tries to stand his ground against the predator. Minghao can only laugh under his breath, already stepping in and forcing Chan to take a step back as the younger hybrid curses under his breath.

“You should really go before you see how much she begs for me. I wouldn’t want you to feel… threatened, y’know?”

You’re not sure how much time passes since Chan’s left but your eyes are clamped shut as you lay in your bed, fingertips gliding through the combination of your wetness and Chan’s cum when you tease yourself.

The door opens and you’re immediately hit with an all too familiar scent; breath hitching as you sit up to stare at the male through bleary eyes. “I--M--Minghao, I---”

“I know what you want, little bun. Oh? Look at you, sitting pretty in a puddle of cum.” He pouts mockingly at you, unbothered when he leaves the door to your bedroom wide open and saunters over to where you lay on the bed. “Did he even make you cum, hmm? Or is it not enough for you anymore? Could he make you feel as good as I do?” You spread your legs obscenely wide for him, letting him see how much of Chan’s cum still pours out of your hole.

“N-no, please, please! Need y-your cock in m-me! I, ah, need you to--to breed my sl--slutty p-pussy!” You cry out; all inhibitions thrown out of the window when Minghao easily slots himself between your legs. “Minghao, p-please!”

He grins down at you, reaching a hand between your legs as he uses the cum as lubrication before he thrusts two fingers into your cunt. You cry out, already clamping down onto his fingers. “You want me to fuck your ‘lil cunt? Fuck that other hybrid’s cum into you? Or do you want me to cum inside of you too? Fill you up so fuckin’ much that it’ll force his out of your used ‘lil hole.”

“I--I--please, anything!” A choked sob bubbles past your lips as Minghao chuckles and curls his digits inside of you.

“Anything, huh? Careful, you wouldn’t want to regret your words, bun.”

Minghao is impatient; he’d have to admit.

Having to hear Chan fucking you through the thin apartment walls was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon when he’d stared holes into the blank canvas and watched as the cup of tea had gone lukewarm before he heard Chan’s mention of cumming and all but bolted to the door.

“M--Minghao, ah! F--faster! Harder!” You thrash slightly underneath him; feral with the way his cock kisses your cervix and makes you wince before it mixes into pleasure. “G-god, ah, your c-cock is so b-big, it fills me--me up suh---so good! Fuck m-me deeper!”

He growls, snapping his hips into you harder as your body jostles underneath him. “Mine. You’re fuckin’ mine.” He reaches a free hand down, pinching one of your nipples as you whine and cry out his name. “That’s right. Who’s fucking you this good? Who does this pussy belong to, bun? I wanna hear you screaming my name while I fuck you this good. Let everyone fuckin’ hear it.”

Loud cries of his name roll off of your tongue as your back bows off of the bed, toes curling while your heels dig into the small of his back to bring him closer to you. “You--You, fuck, M--Minghao! I, ah, my--my pussy belong t-to you! Mmh, j-just fuck m-me ‘til all I know is--is how to t-take your cock!”

“Hmm, that’s right. You’re just my ‘lil cocksleeve, aren’t you?” He licks his lips, watching as your body shivers in complete lust. “Dumb ‘lil bun made to take my cock. I’ll fuck you so good, all you’ll know is how to take me in all your slutty ‘lil holes.”

Tugging at your restraints, you let out a whine. “Ngh, yes--yes, that’s, ah, what I w-want… Just wanna be y-your… dumb ‘lil h-holes…” Sniffling, your pussy clenches around him, already on the verge of an orgasm when he starts to double his pace. “I, mmh, want--want you to b-breed my p-pussy… wanna get nice and f-full of your cum, Minghao…”

“Oh, I know, ‘lil bun. And I’m gonna.” Using his hands, he unwraps your legs from around his waist, instead bringing them up and bending them until your knees are almost touching your chest. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum over and over ‘til we’re both satisfied and until my scent is all over you.” He smirks, watching your eyes cross when his cock slams into you repeatedly.

“Should we send a picture of your pretty ‘lil pussy filled with my cum to your old heat partner? Let him know you won’t be needing him anymore?” His eyes flit down, watching as his cock comes out covered in Chan’s cum with every thrust. “Fuck, can’t believe you’re letting me fuck your slutty ‘lil pussy with someone else’s cum inside of you. There’s still so much of it too, bun. Every time I thrust in, more of it pours out.”

Minghao’s sultry yet teasing laugh sends you over the edge and all you can manage is a choked moan before your orgasm washes over you and your entire body is shaking underneath him. “Oh? That enough for you to cum, huh? Cute.”

He fucks you through your orgasm, growling when he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. “Gonna breed your pussy just like you deserve, bun~”

In the midst of your orgasm, you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you; sharp, hurried cries of his name rolling off your tongue when he only thrusts into you faster. “M--Minghao, please! C-cum in--inside my needy ‘lil h-hole ‘n breed me! I wanna, mmh, feel y-your cum pouring into m-my pussy... I--I need it... Need to be--be full o-of your c-cum...”

“Fuck!”

The feeling of Minghao cumming only draws out your own pleasure as your eyes roll to the back of your head when you start to feel the warmth of his cum inside of you. “Ngh, fuh--feels so warm… a-and deep...”

He opts to grind against you while he rides out his high; deep groans and harsh breaths all he can muster.

You tug on your restraints after a few moments, whining when he starts to let your legs down. “Minghao…” He laughs lightly as he stays with his cock deep inside of you, eyes trained on your lips that part in cute whines.

“What is it, bun?”

Biting your lip, you can’t help but clench around his cock, somewhat sated but also still craving more of Minghao the longer he makes no effort to move from between your legs.

“C-can I… s-sit on your cock…? Just l-like this? I wanna feel you, ah, k-keeping your c-cum plugged up in--in my p-pussy…”

Your cheeks burn hot under his intense stare but he scoffs teasingly, already reaching up to undo your restraints to get you in a more comfortable position.

“You wanna cockwarm, huh? Okay. And then I’ll bend you over and fuck you nice ‘n good again ‘til my cum’s pouring out of your spent hole.”

Nodding furiously, you let him take the reins, already anticipating what he has planned next.

“Please...”

#minghao smut #the8 smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #🍚 anon #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 scenarios #the8 imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #minghao fic #the8 fic #svt fic #seventeen fic

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dontcare77ghj · 3 years

Text

We Interrupt This Program

Wanda x reader x Vision

Monica had dreamt of her mother and aunt. Memories from long ago when everything had been okay.

She had woken up in the same uncomfortable hospital room chair she had fallen asleep in, to her hands forming from dust.

Monica had jumped in her chair with a gasp at the strange image before her head snapped over to her mother's hospital bed.

An empty bed.

As Monica jumped to her feet, she suddenly became aware of the loud crashes and screams echoing outside the room.

When Monica opened the door, she was greeted by the disturbing image of people forming from dust.

Monica had rushed past the dusty people and to a doctor.

"Excuse me," She tried to say.

"They're all coming back!" The doctor snapped. "They're all coming back. We don't have the capacity!" He said before rushing away.

Not deterring from her goal, Monica continued to race through the hospital halls until she crashed into a nurse.

"Excuse me? I'm looking for a patient in room one-o-four."

"Who my wife? Do you have a phone?" The man asked.

"I don't have a phone."

"I have to call my wife." The nurse said before turning away from Monica.

People were still appearing around Monica as she rushed towards the hospital front desk and crashed into a man.

"Are you okay? It's okay, I've got it." A nurse said, helping the stranger up before Monica could pull him to his feet.

"I'm looking for a patient in room one-o-four," Monica said to the woman behind the desk, who waved her off.

"I don't know what to tell you." She said before walking away.

Why will no-one help me? Monica wondered as she stared all around her. Where is my mother?

"Monica?" Her name was called loudly over the din. Monica spun to the person calling her name and let out a sigh of relief at the familiar figure.

"Oh, Dr. Harley, thank God!"

"I can't believe it." The woman said, staring Monica up and down.

"I was,"

"Where did you go?" The doctor cut Monica off.

"I've been in her room since she came back from surgery," Monica told her. "I mean, I might have fallen asleep, but no longer than twenty minutes. Dr. Harley, where's my mom?"

"Your mom, she died, honey." The doctor admitted, staring at Monica with honest eyes.

"What?" Monica asked, staring at the doctor in horror. "No. No, no, no, you're mistaken. My mother, the procedure went well. You said so yourself. Clean margins. You're discharging her today."

"The cancer came back." The doctor said, causing Monica to scoff.

"Okay, stop. Stop. You're, my mom is Maria Rambeau, look it up. I mean, look it up. Maria Rambeau." Monica demanded, rushing to the check-in desk and slamming her hand on the counter.

"Monica, I don't understand what's or how, but you need to listen to me. Maria died three years ago." Dr. Harley said, pulling Monica away from the desk.

"Three? No. No, no."

"Which was two years after you,"

"After I what? After I what?" Monica demanded, willing herself to not let her face crumple.

"After you disappeared."

Monica had been dead for five years, well gone as the rest of the world put it. She disappeared in her mother's hospital room, and when she woke up, five years had passed.

Monica had been gone for five years and her mother two.

The only difference, her mother wouldn't be coming back any time soon.

But Monica was Maria's daughter. Monica had been raised by the strongest of women and refused to crumble under grief's pressure.

So Monica had thrown herself back into the world. She had forced herself back into the life she once lived.

It had been three weeks since Monica and the rest of the universe had found herself undusting, and now she was walking through the SWORD headquarters, preparing for a meeting.

Monica had flashed her badge at the scanner, but the doors wouldn't open as the scanners beeped at her.

"Ma'am? Over here, please." A man from the desk called her over.

"Hi, good morning. I work here, and,"

"If you did, your badge would work." The man cut her off, staring at her with a blank face.

"Right." Monica chuckled nervously. "Um, I have a meeting with,"

"You know who this is?" Tyler Hayward asked, appearing beside Monica.

"This guy." Monica smiled, relieved.

"Captain Monica Rambeau." Hayward stuck his hand out.

"Director Tyler Hayward." Monica nodded, taking his hand and shaking it firmly.

"Acting Director." Hayward corrected. "You haven't aged a day." He complimented.

"And you look old as hell," Monica commented with a smirk, causing Hayward to chuckle.

"Come on, let's catch you up," Hayward said, leading Monica away from the desk and towards the doors she'd tried to enter. "It's been three weeks, and you're the first to report. Can't say I'm surprised, Captain."

"How are the numbers for the astronaut training program?" Monica asked as she and Hayward walked down long and winding halls.

"Dismal. Lost half my personnel in The Blip, and half of those remaining have lost nerve." Hayward told her with a frown. "The program hasn't been the same you've been up there, Rambeau. Shifted away from human-manned mission and refocused on robotics, nanotech, AI. Sentient Weapons, like it, says on the door."

"It also says, "Observation and Response" on that door, not "Creation," Monica noted.

"The world's not the same as you left it. Space is now full of unexpected threats." Hayward told her.

"Always full of threats. And allies." Monica corrected the man.

"Listen, Monica, I just wanna acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation. I know SWORD's your home." Hayward acknowledged, stopping in the middle of a pristine white hallway. "Your mom built this place from the ground up. You grew up here. You should've been here to help name the replacement."

"You were the obvious choice," Monica said with a work-approved smile.

"I was the only choice."

"I wasn't gonna say it," Monica smirked as Hayward chuckled quietly. "Look, Tyler, you know the job you have to do. I'm here to do mine." She told him, nodding to herself.

"Let's get you back out there," Hayward said, opening the door to his office and letting Monica step inside. "The FBI is in a tizzy over a missing person case up in Jersey."

"Missing persons?" Monica asked, raising a brow.

"I know. But the FBI has requested the use of one of our imaging drones, and I need a chaperone." Hayward told her.

"Tyler, drones usually chaperone me." Monica shook her head.

"I get it." The man nodded before Monica cut him off.

"Look, if this is because of, you don't have to worry about me. I'm good." Monica assured, cringing at the thought of her lost five years.

"There's no easy way to say this but, you're grounded," Hayward said, causing Monica to pause.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Terrestrial missions only," Hayward confirmed.

"You're kidding. For how long?" Monica scoffed, glaring daggers at the man. "Whose protocol is this?"

"Your mother's," Hayward admitted. "She implemented guidelines in the event vanished personnel ever returned. Look, I know it's a raw deal, but there is one positive takeaway." He said as Monica rolled her eyes.

"And what's that?"

"She believed you'd come back." He said, causing the woman before him to freeze. "You'd be doing me a big favor with this FBI thing, but if you need more time,"

"No. No, I'm good to go." Monica cut him off, looking much sourer than when she began this meeting.

"Excellent. Keep me updated, Captain." Hayward stood, handing Monica a file which she took with a frown.

Monica made the drive to Westview, New Jersey, the next day.

The plan was to get there that morning and be out of there by the end of the week.

In all honesty, Monica did not want to do this assignment. It was so far beneath her pay grade and not for someone with her skill set, but Monica would grin and bear it.

Monica would take whatever assignments she had to to get back to what she used to do.

It was 11:30 in the morning when Monica pulled up to the edge of Westview where an FBI agent stood, talking with two officers.

"James E Woo, FBI." The agent introduced himself, pulling a card out of nowhere, causing Monica to smile.

"Monica Rambeau, SWORD. What's the story here, Agent Woo?" Monica asked, taking the business card between her fingers.

"I've got a witness set up down the road in Westview, and this morning, it looked like he flew the coop," Woo explained.

"Your missing person is in the Witness Protection Program?" Monica confirmed.

"I have contacted known associates, relatives," Woo started, but Monica cut him off.

"And let me guess, none of them have seen him either?" She asked, a clearer picture of what was happening now in her head.

"No. None of them have ever heard of our guy." The man said, shattering Monica's picture. "Something seemed hanky to me, so I took the first flight out of Oakland to interface with the local law enforcement, which is when I encountered a new wrinkle."

"What is that?"

The FBI agent didn't respond merely nodded his head over to the two police officers, and the two made their way over to them.

"Pardon me, Sheriff. Would you mind repeating your claim about Westview to my colleague here?" James asked the blank-faced Sherrif.

"No such place." The Sherrif shrugged.

"You're saying the town of Westview, New Jersey, doesn't exist?" Monica asked, turning to the visible sign, with a raised brow.

"It's what I keep telling your G-Man here, but he won't listen." The man said, sipping his coffee.

"I see. And, I'm sorry, but what town are you from?" She wondered.

"Eastview." The man answered, causing Monica's befuddlement to grow.

"Thank you, Sherrif. We'll reach out if we need further assistance." James dismissed the officers as he and Monica turned back to her car. "I pulled phone numbers for all the residents, I'm only through the D's, but so far, I got diddly squat." He told her.

"So you can't reach anyone inside, and everyone on the outside has some sort of selective amnesia?" Monica asked.

"This isn't a missing person's case, Captain Rambeau. It's a missing town. Population 3,892." James said, turning to the sign.

"Why haven't you gone inside to investigate?" Monica questioned the agent.

"Cause it doesn't want me to," James told Monica, causing her head to snap and face him. "You can feel it too, can't you? Nobody's supposed to go in." He said, finally acknowledging the unsettling feeling in the air.

Monica couldn't respond. She couldn't think of a single thing to say at that moment, so she didn't.

Monica didn't say anything as she opened her trunk and pulled out one of the SWORD drones.

"What about you?" Monica asked as she set the drone up.

"Me?" James confirmed before letting out a small chuckle. "Well, I'm from Bakersfield originally. Growin' up, other kids had Micheal Jordan posters on their walls, but I had Elliot Ness." He explained as Monica moved to stand beside him.

"No, no, no. I mean, why is it that you have an awareness of Westview? Or me, for that matter?" Monica asked, focusing on the controls in her hands. "Is it because we are outside of a certain radius or maybe because we don't have a personal connection?"

"I don't know, maybe,"

"Wait. Where'd it go?" Monica cut James off as the video feed fritzed and the drone disappeared from the air.

"It was right there," James said as Monica stalked closer to the town.

As Monica got closer to the town's edge, she finally noticed the cause of the man behind nerves.

"Whoa."

"What is it?"

"Some sort of energy field," Monica said, raising her hand towards the force field.

"Careful, Rambeau," James warned, stilling at Monica's actions. "Captain Rambeau!" He exclaimed when Monica's hand touched the field. "Watch out! Rambeau! Captain Rambeau!"

But it was too late. Monica had touched the force field, and she had disappeared.

Darcy Lewis had been through and experienced so many things in the past thirteen years. Experiences that had completely changed her definition of weird.

That's why when she was approached by two SWORD agents, camped outside of her apartment, asking if she would help on what they were described as an anomaly, Darcy didn't bat an eye before agreeing.

Now Darcy was sat in the back of a van with three other people.

"Hey, what's your field?" Darcy asked the man across from her, breaking the silence of the car.

"We're not supposed to talk to each other." The man shook his head, eyes wide.

"Hmm? Boy Scout leader. Got it." Darcy rolled her eyes before turning the woman beside him. "And you?"

"Nuclear Biology." The woman told her

"Artificial Intelligence." The bald man beside Darcy said.

"Astrophysics." Darcy nodded. "We got the full clown car. It means whatever the threat it, SWORD clearly has no idea what they're dealing with."

"I'm a chemical engineer." The Boy Scout leader piped up.

"No-one cares." Darcy shot him down quickly as the van came to a halt.

"Alright, grab your gear." An agent from the front ordered.

Darcy was the first to exit the car and survey the chaos around her.

They set up a base camp faster than I paint a base coat. Darcy thought as she walked past several men and women.

"Ms. Lewis." A man called, walking over to her.

"Dr. Lewis." Darcy corrected him.

"We have your gear inside." The agent said before leading her towards her station.

"Those drones you're sending in, what kinda data are you getting?" Darcy asked, watching as one drone approached Westview on a screen before disappearing.

"I'm afraid that's highly classified." The agent told her.

"You can't see anything?" She asked, causing the agent to freeze. "FBI, Army. I saw the Air Force Office of Special Investigations out there." She commented, setting up her computer. "Research Lab, Space Command, too. A bona fide, joint, multi-service response. Looking forward to a commemorative T-shirt. Is there somewhere a lady could get a cup of coffee? You guys look like you might get down with those little pod things, horrendous for the environment, by the way."

"Make your assessment, please." The man sighed, irritated by Darcy's comments.

While going on her mini-tirade, Darcy had been setting up her equipment and station. She now looked down at a small device in her hand, watching it scan the area.

"Whoa. I mean, whoa." Darcy said, her eyes incredibly wide, as she adjusted her glasses.

"What're you getting?" The agent demanded, moving closer to her.

"A colossal amount of CMBR," Darcy told him.

"CM?"

"Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation." She clarified.

"We've been told the radiation is within a safe limit." The agent said, looking at Darcy in concern.

"It is, for now."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Sh!" She cut him off with a hiss. Darcy watched the device in her hand with rapt interest as it continued to beep. "There are longer wavelengths superimposed over the noise here." She thought aloud, chewing on her lower lip.

Darcy surveyed her surroundings before she found what she needed beside her.

"I got it," Darcy grunted as she heaved a large piece of computing systems onto her desk. Darcy fiddled with the settings and the knobs before a blurry picture began to appear. "I need a TV. An old one. Like, not flat." She told the agent beside her.

Hours later, it had begun to rain, but that didn't stop SWORD operations.

A man in a plastic hazmat suit walked over to where Hayward was standing, allowing the rain to soak his form.

"You good to go?" Hayward asked, yelling slightly over the weather.

"Yes, sir." The man nodded.

"The sewers will take you straight into town. Try to find anything you can on Rambeau." Hayward ordered him.

"Copy that." The man said, beginning to descend into the sewers.

"Agent Franklin. We will keep this channel open for you." Hayward said over Franklin's earpiece as he crawled through the small tunnel.

"Copy."

"Keep me updated," Hayward told the assembled team before walking away.

"Director Hayward," Woo said, jogging beside Hayward. "Between you me and the bedpost, I am not confident about this mission."

"Thanks for the feedback, Jimmy. If only my drones were as forthcoming." Hayward said as they entered a tent.

"There's no reason to suspect the perimeter doesn't extend subterraneously." Jimmy tried to reason.

"There's no reason to suspect it does."

"We don't know enough about the nature of the threat to send another agent when the first is yet to return," Jimmy told the director.

"Someone must miss you back in Quantico." Hayward scoffed.

"No, sir. Softball season's over, sir." Jimmy joked.

"What do we have up?" Hayward asked, walking further into the room and towards a female agent.

"Radar, lidar, sodar, infared." She told him.

"Cycle through," Hayward demanded. When the woman couldn't get anything up on the screen, Hayward let out a sigh. "Will someone get me a useful visual, damn it?" He asked before loud studio audience laughter rang through the room. "What is that? Who's doing that?" He asked as everyone began to look around.

"Who are those people?"

"What are you wearing?"

"And why are they here?"

"What are you wearing?"

Hayward froze as he caught sight of a dark-haired woman watching the source on an old-fashioned television.

"Well, it's our anniversary!"

"Our anniversary of what?"

"Vision now is not the time to debate your failing memory processors."

"Is that?" Jimmy asked, leaning on the desk beside Darcy as several other officers and Hayward crowded behind her.

"Yeah, it looks like them." Darcy nodded, not taking her eyes off the screen.

And sure enough, on the screen before her was a black and white video of Wanda Maximoff, Y/N Barton, and The Vision.

"You move at the speed of sound, Y/N makes a storm with her pinky, and I can make a pen float through the air. Who needs to abbreviate?" Wanda questioned incredulously.

"Look, I know it's been a crazy few years on this planet, but he's dead, right?" Darcy asked, turning to Jimmy, who hadn't taken his eyes off the screen. "Not blipped, dead."

"Excellent plan. Where's the tenderizer?" Vision asked.

"We're looking at him," Y/N said as she handed Vision the tenderizer.

"What am I looking at?" Hayward demanded. "You. What is this? Where's this coming from?" He asked Darcy.

"Out there," Darcy said, throwing her arm up in a vague gesture to the outside.

"You didn't answer the back door. For your upside-down cake." A dark-haired woman said, holding a pineapple in her hand.

"Is it authentic?" Hayward asked.

"I'm not sure how to answer that," Darcy told him.

"Is it happening in real-time? Is it recorded? Fabricated?" He pressed.

"I don't know. I don't know. And I don't know." Darcy told him.

"What do you know?" Hayward demanded.

"My equipment registered an extremely high level of CMBR. That's,"

"Relic radiation dating back to the Big Bang." Hayward nodded.

"Yeah." Darcy nodded. "Entwined was a broadcast frequency. So I had one of your goons pick me up a sweet vintage TV, and when I plug this bad boy in, voila, sound and picture."

"Dinner is served."

"So, you're saying the universe created a sitcom starring three Avengers?" Jimmy asked, staring at the screen in confusion.

"It's a working theory." Darcy shrugged.

"Get me transport back to headquarters now. And someone get me, Clint Barton." Hayward demanded, causing two men to rush away. "Are we recording this?" He asked the woman.

"Never stopped," Darcy informed him.

"I need immediate analysis. Now, people. Let's go!" Hayward said before walking away. All the agents scattered, keen on following orders, leaving Jimmy and Darcy alone.

"He's a charmer." Darcy scoffed.

"Great work." Jimmy smiled before getting up and walking away.

"Hey, thanks." Darcy grinned happily. "Maybe I can get that coffee now?" She asked, looking around, but no-one even looked up. "Or not. That's cool." She grumbled, turning back to the screen as the episode finished and three kissed one another. "Aw!"

"First and foremost, our main objective is to get any intel on Captain Rambeau. Originally this case was a missing person, so we're going to start there," Jimmy explained to the gathered group. "We've successfully identified three individuals inside the Westview anomaly." He added, hanging up pictures of Wanda, Y/N, and Vision in their 1950's garb. "Let's keep going."

"This guest is leaving your home." Mrs. Hart said as Darcy frantically typed away at her keyboard.

Everyone in the room had a job to do to find out what was happening in Westview.

Some were watching the footage on repeat, taking copious notes, Darcy was attempting to find out who was playing who, people were tracking the radiation waves coming from the town, and Jimmy had been filling out a whiteboard with questions.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hart. Played by Todd and Sharon Davis." Darcy announced, holding up two forms with pictures of the two before hanging them up beside the three other photos.

"Computational forms," Norm said. "And no-one can process the data quite like you do, pal."

"Agent Woo." A man interrupted Jimmy's watching of the footage before handing him a form.

Jimmy slightly smiled as he read it before calling out,

"Abhilash Tandon is Norm."

"Harold Copter is Jones!"

"We got Isabel Matsueida cast as Beverly!"

"John Collins as Herb!"

It had been hours of searching, trying to figure out everyone's identity, and Darcy was tired.

Tired and hungry.

She had just made herself cup ramen and made her way back to her desk when she let out a gasp and dropped her noodles.

"Jimmy!" She called, dropping into her seat, not even bothering to clean up the mess. "Damn it, Woo. Hurry up!"

"What?" Jimmy asked, rushing over and freezing when he saw who was on the screen. "Oh my god." Jimmy sighed, sinking into a chair beside Darcy.

"Does she seem okay to you?" Darcy asked as the two watched Monica read a newspaper while Wanda, Y/N, and Agnes spoke in the background.

"Well, she doesn't appear to be harmed in any way, but that is definitely not the boss lady I met yesterday." Jimmy determined.

"So what, deep cover? Monica has to play along?" Darcy asked.

"With whom? Or else, what? All right. Brass tacks, Dr. Lewis. What are we lookin' at here? Is it an alternate reality? Time travel? Some cockamamie social experiement?" Jimmy asked

"It's a sitcom. A 1950's sitcom." Darcy explained, shaking her head.

"But why?" Jimmy wondered.

"I'd like to know that myself." Clint Barton demanded, now standing behind the two.

"Agent Barton." Jimmy greeted, standing up and moving towards the man. "I was told you wouldn't be here until tomorrow."

"Well, it turns out a quinjet makes journies a lot quicker," Clint said, crossing his arms. "Where is my daughter? And where is Wanda?"

"We'll have to fill you in later, Hawkeye." Darcy piped up. "I think I have an idea how to contact them."

"How?"

"So there's this radio that sits in the kitchen, right? The next time someone's washing the dishes, which happens like once an episode, barf, we'll shoot a signal to that little guy." Darcy explained.

"Sounds like a plan. What do you need done?" Clint asked.

"This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast, and if my theory is right, allow us to speak to either Y/N or Wanda. This is totally gonna work." Darcy explained, continuing to set up the station. "Don't touch that." She admonished Jimmy.

"Agent Woo." A woman called, walking over to the three with a file.

"Is this from the current episode?" Jimmy asked, looking at the picture in his hands.

"Aired about two minutes ago." The woman nodded.

"What is it?" Clint asked, looking over the man's shoulder.

"What does it look like to you?"

"It looks like a retro version of a SWORD drone," Clint noted as Darcy took the picture out of his hands.

"Bingo." Jimmy nodded.

"But how did it change and why?" Clint wondered.

"Uh, to go with production design?" Jimmy guessed.

"Or to render it useless." Darcy theorized.

"Why'd you colorize it?" Jimmy asked the female agent.

"I didn't." She shook her head.

"Let's get this show on the road. Clint, you're with me." Darcy said, grabbing her laptop and rushing back into the tent with Clint on her heels.

Darcy and Clint donned their headpieces before Darcy turned to the window.

"Jimmy, you ready?"

"Ready," Jimmy affirmed, holding his thumb up.

Darcy and Clint took their seats in front of the screen where Wanda and Y/N were now talking with Monica.

"Uh, Jimmy, Monica is talking now. She's got a speaking part." Darcy told him.

"What is she saying?" Jimmy wondered.

"Say those pants are peachy keen. Both sets."

"She likes their pants." Darcy shrugged. "They're at some sort of swim club. We've never been here before."

"Is it the sixties still?" Jimmy wondered.

"Still the sixties and still black and white." Clint relayed, not taking his eyes off the screen.

"The girls are with another character," Darcy told Jimmy.

"Another person." Jimmy corrected.

"I can't help but wonder if the three of us haven't gotten off on the wrong foot, Dottie. And I'd like to, we'd like to, correct that if we can." Wanda said to a blonde woman.

"Ooh, radio on the side table!" Darcy cheered.

"Start talking," Clint ordered the man.

"Wanda, do you read me? Agent Barton, are you there?" Jimmy asked. "Can they hear me?"

"I don't think so," Darcy told him.

"Keep trying." Clint pushed.

"Wanda. Wanda, can you hear me? Agent Barton, do you read me? Wanda? Y/N?"

As Jimmy continued to speak to the two, Clint and Darcy were staring at the screen intently, waiting for any sign they might hear.

For a second, it looked like it might have worked. The radio on the television crackled before the show jump cut.

"Pop quiz, Wanda," Dottie said as Y/N wrapped her hand. "How does a housewife get a bloodstain out of white linen? By doing it herself."

"Wait." Darcy stuttered, staring at the screen in confusion.

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't know," Darcy said. "That was weird."

"What was?"

"Nothing." Darcy shook her head when the show faded to a commercial. "It's over. Mission failure."

"It was worth a try. Good effort, Darcy."

"Yeah, come on in," Darcy said, pulling off her headset.

"You saw that, right?" Clint asked, pulling off his own. "I wasn't imagining that. The screen cut?"

"It's an old TV, Clint. It flickers." Darcy sighed.

Franklin had been crawling through the sewers for what felt like days. It was hot inside his suit, he was sweating, and the sewer smelt like a sewer was supposed to.

But Franklin kept crawling along.

He kept crawling even when he passed through the energy field, and the cord around his waist fell off.

No-one was sure what had happened to Franklin. He'd never checked in with base, and when the cord had been rewound, the end had somehow turned into a child's jump rope.

When morning came, no-one had slept. Everyone at the SWORD base had stayed awake all night, continuing their search into the Westview anonymity.

Darcy wasn't sure who had suggested it, but soon the room had been filled with old-fashioned TV's all playing the latest episode.

The show was now in color as the decade had shifted into the seventies.

"Sweetheart, do you think it's time to,"

"Call the doctor."

"1950's, 1960's and now the '70's. Why does it keep switching time periods?" Darcy asked as she, Jimmy, and Clint sat in front of the same TV. "It can't be purely for my enjoyment, can it?" Darcy wondered, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"I can't believe Y/N and Wanda are both pregnant," Jimmy commented, watching with rapt interest.

"I can't believe I'm about to be a grandfather." Clint sighed, staring at the screen in confusion.

"Can I ask you something?" Darcy asked, turning to Clint. "Do you seriously not know where Wanda and your daughter were before this?" She questioned the archer, recalling what she read in his statement.

"No. I don't know where they were." Clint shook his head. "And I'm the only person to blame."

"That can't be true." Jimmy tried to assure.

"It is." Clint nodded. "I hadn't seen Y/N since 2017 when Thanos snapped. She was on the run with Wanda and team Cap after the raft, but I'd taken a plea. After Banner snapped and Thanos dusted, my only thought was to get back to my wife. I left Y/N with Wanda on the battlefield." Clint admitted. "I abandoned her."

"Look, I wasn't there during that final fight, but I can imagine the chaos after," Darcy said to the man. "It's not the coolest thing you could have done, but it's understandable."

"Shh!" Jimmy hissed. "The girls are giving birth!" He said, causing Darcy and Clint to turn back to the screen. "Congratulations, Agent Barton, you've got a granddaughter."

"Yeah, and two grandsons."

"Twins. What a twist." Darcy sniffed, causing both men to turn and face her. "What? I'm invested."

"He was killed by Ultron. Wasn't he?"

"Did she just say the name Ultron?" Jimmy demanded. "Has that happened before? A reference to our reality."

"No. Never."

"Don't go near her." Wanda snapped, stopping Geraldine from moving beside a sleeping Y/N.

"Hey, I'll take a shift rocking the babies." Geraldine offered, beginning to move closer to the bassinets when the babies started to cry.

"No, I think you should leave." Wanda shook her head, blocking the bassinets from her view.

"Oh, Wanda, don't be like that," Geraldine said, staring at Wanda as though she were the crazy one.

"Who are you?" Wanda demanded, staring at the woman in anger.

"Wanda." Geraldine shook her head as she took a step back. "I'm. Wanda, I'm."

"This is different," Darcy said, staring at the screen uncomfortably.

"What happened? Where'd she go?" Jimmy asked as the screen glitched. The screen glitched to the end credits, which showed Wanda, Y/N, and Vision now sitting on the couch, each holding a baby.

"God not again." Darcy sighed, reaching over Jimmy to her laptop, which was recording the episode. Darcy quickly typed away at her computer, and it brought up the last ten seconds of the scene. "There's nothing here!" Darcy snapped when it played the same.

"You think it's still a glitch?" Clint asked her.

"I don't get it. One second, Monica is standing right there, and the next, she isn't. Someone is censoring the broadcast." Darcy realized.

"But where's Rambeau?" Jimmy asked right as alerts began to blare.

"Alert! Boundry has been breached!" The alarm screeched, causing the entirety of the tent to rush into action.

"Who are you?" Wanda demanded, stalking closer to Geraldine.

"Wanda, I'm just your neighbor." Geraldine attempted to reason with the woman.

"Then how did you know about Ultron?" Wanda demanded, tilting her head to the side.

But Geraldine couldn't answer, causing Wanda's hands to glow bright red.

"You're not my neighbor," Wanda whispered tearfully. "And you're definitely not my friend. You are a stranger and an outsider. And right now, you are trespassing here. And I want you to leave." She said before blasting Geraldine out of her home.

It took a second for Wanda to realize what she had done. Geraldine was gone, and there were large holes in the walls.

She stared at her hands in shock before looking over to her wife, who was just beginning to stir.

Thinking quickly, Wanda used her powers to pull the house back together and reset it.

Before Wanda could wonder too much about what she had done, one of the babies let a loud cooing noise.

Wanda had just moved back in front of the bassinets when the front door slammed open.

"Wanda? Where's Geraldine?" Vision asked, rounding the couch to stand beside a stirring Y/N.

"Oh, she left, honey," Wanda told him, not turning to face him. "She had to rush home." She added, finally turning to the man.

But the sight of Vision caused Wanda's eyes to widen and a gasp to escape her mouth.

Vision had lost all his color. He was grey, his eyes white, and there was a hole in his head.

"What?" Vision asked. "What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, moving closer to Wanda.

When Wanda looked up, she was relieved to see Vision was back to normal.

"We don't have to stay here. We could go wherever we want." Vision reminded his wife.

"No, we can't." Wanda shook her head. "This is our home." She smiled.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't worry, darling. I have everything under control." She said as Y/N sat up on the couch with a yawn.

Outside of Westview, Jimmy and Darcy had made it to the scene.

"Monica!" Jimmy gasped, kneeling beside the woman. "Are you okay?"

"It's Wanda," Monica whispered, staring at the night sky blankly. "It's all Wanda."

"I thought you said you'd wake me if the babies cried?" Y/N asked, taking Tommy into her arms.

"I had it control, sweetheart. You needed your rest." Wanda said, picking up Luna. "What should we watch tonight?" Wanda wondered, moving over to the couch.

Y/N and Vision followed their wife and sat on either side of her, each holding an infant.

Today had been a series of crazy events, but it had had the best outcome. Y/N thought staring down at her son in her arms and her other children in the arms of her husband and wife.

Something is happening here. Vision thought glancing down at his squirming daughter.

We’re safe here. Wanda thought with a smile as she made faces at the baby in her arms. I’ll keep us safe.

Taglist is open throughout the entirety of the series.

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#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #vision x reader #wanda x vision #wanda x reader x vison #wandavision #scarlet witch x reader

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