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vermillioncrown · 2 months

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ands snippet: fast and furious

Summary: Vivienne delivers on a promise and expected only the self-satisfaction of a “job well done.” His Dark Grace decides otherwise.

or tldr: the batmobile's first, official iteration gets its christening 😏 (making out + some d/s vibes) this is a write up of this post on how bruce (the batman, really) and vivienne "get together," originally written to entertain @rozaceous (and here's the link to the og concept) the gist is that it's pre-NYE party debacle, ros and vi are practically u-haul lesbians but it's no one's business (not even their authors') how involved they are with each other, and ros and bruce have not resolved their UST yet.

“—and there might be tolerance issues with the panels, but they should be resolved by next month.” Neel Singh, the Experimental Manufacturing lead, concludes his briefing and falls half a pace back.

“We’re not racing the clock, Neel.” Vivienne jots down her thoughts in her notepad, and adds, “The winter holidays are coming up. I don’t expect anything more until February, the earliest.”

“Y-Yes, of course.” After pressing him for continuous updates for the past few months, of course he’d feel discombobulated by the sudden release of the gas pedal, so to speak. Neel pulls out his phone to type a message. “Should I call anyone else to show you around, Vivienne? Someone from Facilities for the test track?”

Vivienne looks up and out past the glass, into the indoor test track where the subject of their discussion sits parked. All aerodynamic sleekness and curves, the diffused polish of a practical matte black coating, and the intuitive physical sense of power and nimbleness in its form…

Now that—that is her son, midwifed by the hardworking and circumspect members of her handpicked team.

A thought comes to mind. “We’re dealing with carbon fiber, yes? RTM process?”

Neel nods warily. “The team assessed it to be the best fit for purpose…”

“Let me see the molds. And I may have some thoughts on the trickier shapes.” At this point, it’s better to do things right than to play coy with knowledge. There aren’t any patents on the line, or papers to publish.

Bless Neel—he’s not the most inspirational team lead out there, but the man can get things done, keeps track of his flock, and does not put them in the line of fire if he can help it. It takes the entire hallway’s length to convince him that no, Vivienne isn’t here to take heads and draw blood. And yes, she does have some experience with composites. Thankfully, what she knows and has retained is relevant enough for their use case.

The setup tour and the technicians present are all of acceptable quality. There’s nothing wrong with their process, per se…

“I appreciate the team’s rationale in using vinyl ester. However, in application, the easier forming and mechanical properties with using epoxy should make it an appropriate trade-off,” she declares her verdict. No one is impolite enough to interrupt her (or they’re not green enough to), but the manufacturing team does exchange serious side eye among each other.

When dealing with technical experts, care must be taken to speak their language. Always acknowledge someone’s hard work, and give good faith that they’ve made their decision with good judgment behind it.

And, of course, one should give explicit reasoning when suggesting an alternative. “We won’t be seeing the same type of corrosion nor UV exposure on average, or most of the expected causes of catastrophic failure”—here, Vivienne meets their gazes directly, pausing deliberately so they get her gist— “will render long-term considerations, hm, superfluous.”

Various noises of scoffing and muffled chortles come from the team before her. “It’s likely to explode, GTA-style, before we care about actual sunlight in Gotham,” someone mutters. “Got it.”

Bonus: appeal to their good humor, show that you’re on their side. Show that if they work with you instead of against you, everyone benefits.

“Then, we’ll put the order in for epoxy instead?” Neel announces to the group.

“Let me liaison with the Testing guys, see which specific one they recommend,” one of the technicians answers while the others debate quietly between themselves. “And we need to check the MSDS for any changes needed.”

“Shouldn’t be much—I think we can relax some of the workflow, too,” another one calls out. “It’ll go a lot faster this round.”

Neel turns towards Vivienne, implicitly waiting for her approval.

“Go ahead,” she confirms. “No rush. You should have enough budget; if not, CC me on any requests.” She waits for Neel to nod before turning back to finish her notes.

One of the technicians whistles low and, undeterred by his coworker’s elbow to the gut, asks out loud, “How the hell are we getting the funding for this? It can’t be government.”

Vivienne pauses, looks up to raise an eyebrow at him. She gives it two seconds—enough to make it awkward but not enough to be aggressive—before answering nonchalantly, “Does it matter? As long as we can all go about our day without the mob brazenly shaking people down in public, or an attention-seeking wack job gassing the streets and locking down the expressway, I do not care.”

The emphasis nets her a “fair enough” gesture and no further questions, with the general atmosphere being one of jocular compliance and satisfaction.

Very good.

She turns to Neel, while announcing to the group at large, “That will be all. Everyone should make sure to confirm with my PA on their way out, so you all can receive your bonuses in a timely manner. Have a happy Thanksgiving.” Then, more directly at Neel: “I’ll meet with Facilities before closing the site for the holiday. Official half-day.”

He gets her unspoken “clear everyone out” order and turns to usher the technicians along, all while starting a phone call with other leads in the testing facility.

---

Vivienne takes the scenic route towards the direction of the Facilities Management suite, walking leisurely to keep her baby in her sights the entire time. She returns absent hums of acknowledgment to the people that greet her along her way, dismissing them when they try to ask if she needs anything, and eventually, the facility is empty.

Instead of turning into the Facilities suite, she goes to the nearby elevator to scan her card and wait.

The building lights dim to their low-occupancy standby state. Then, one of the shadows in the empty hallway distends into a vaguely humanoid form, stalking forward until there’s a glint of whited-out eyes.

Ever the dramatic. His Dark Grace’s penchant for positioning is comically perfect.

“I assume you’ve looped the cameras?” Vivienne tilts her head towards the Facilities suite.

The Batman gives a little, “Hm,” and continues towards her and the elevator.

Yes, duh. Vivienne doesn’t roll her eyes. It’d be wasted on this bat-shaped mime.

She instead flips her notepad to a later page, where she’s noted down the information received from Facilities via email a week ago. Meeting with them was entirely unnecessary. Her mind runs through what would be the most efficient loop of comprehensive testing—and if they waited until sunset, she could set up and open the outdoor portion of the track for “realistic conditions.”

It’s rather easy to ignore the looming shadow next to her—she’s had practice and more important things to think about. Normally, anyone impolite enough to look over her shoulder at her notes would be told to back off, but here she can hope that he’d absorb some proper methodology for fucking once. To be fair, any thought of “proper” leaves her head upon reaching the ground floor of the track.

The so-called “Batmobile” is gorgeous. If not in her heels, Vivienne would have sprinted over to him.

Her beautiful baby boy.

She tucks her notepad and pen away into her handbag, and loops the shoulder strap across her torso. All hands are needed for properly admiring this work of art.

“Ah—the slight ripples Neel mentioned,” she talks His Dark Grace through the visual inspection. “Project Lead Neel Singh,” she adds for clarification, letting him know who and what to satisfy his paranoia. “Yes, the matrix voids will be easier to mitigate with the modifications to their vacuum assistance setup, the tooling support, and of course, not using vinyl ester. More workable.”

She walks around the car, eyeing the front and back tires, noting the height of the chassis, and internally debates the optimum between aesthetics, performance, and practicality.

“Hm. This tire size is special order, but still commercial-off-the-shelf. The concern is that typical road conditions won’t allow for anything lower, but we need to balance the handling with the overall weight…especially since the chassis will be so lightweight.” She backs up and takes in the whole of the car’s form. “I…I’m actually a bit worried—we might not have the right balance between the aero and weight for the CG, being not for track purposes, so we can’t go as low as actual motorsport designs—”

“—then let’s test it,” Batman cuts through her fretting. He’s been following along with her inspection, practically hovering over her the entire time. The fingers of his gauntleted hand carefully trace where she was pointing out, trailing behind her hand’s path. “That’s why we’re here.”

Credit where credit is due—that’s true. At least he didn’t immediately demand to do so; his interjection is a polite ask, the bat and all things considered. And Vivienne wouldn’t have let him within a zip code of her new son if he wasn’t ready to handle. She can allow His Dark Grace some fun, for once.

She takes out the prototype key fob—slow enough to rile up the menacing furry next to her—and clicks. The doors unlock and pop slightly ajar before she dangles the fob in front of Batman.

He’s finally trained enough to be polite during their handovers; he takes the fob from her possession without force, and waits for her to situate herself in the passenger side before getting in himself.

“No helmets. Well, you better not get me killed,” Vivienne says blandly when Batman starts up the car. He purrs, lovely and smooth like a spoiled cat. “Or I won’t offer custom hubcaps. Ones with little bat decals.”

There’s a faint smirk on His Dark Grace’s face. “I’m better than that.” He teases with a brief revving of the engine.

The test track comes into hyperfocus in front of Vivienne; on a whim, she clicks an additional control up top near the rearview HUD of the car that opens up the gate to the outdoor track. She can recognize the adrenaline building up—it’s what follows a good challenge, either mental or physical, and she welcomes it with relish.

“Let’s see it, then,” she nods towards the gate, unable to help her toothy grin in return.

---

Her baby boy “handles,” is what Vivienne can say for now. She didn’t expect the response to be buttery smooth on first iteration, and for something experimental. The seeds of something are present—His Dark Grace pulled them into two hairpin turns in sequence—and coupled with the snappiness, she thinks they have an unpolished gem in their hands. The car is like having a barely tamed big cat, leashed up and ready to let loose on one’s orders.

It’s fucking exhilarating.

The stupid showoff figures out how to manage the car quickly enough. He pulls another turn that lets them slide perfectly against the side of the track into the bay that’s meant to be a small pit area. The uncovered half of his face is not as expressive as he pretends to be, day-to-day, but the expression present is full-on cocky as hell.

(Honestly, Vivienne can admit to liking it—or at least, this is much more tolerable than the public-facing himbo she needs to politely shake hands with whenever he deigns to muck around at the office.)

“Proven enough?” His typical growl is less forced, and more of a pleasant rumble that harmonizes nicely with the idling engine. In the full furry get-up, subtle side glances and all that aren't really possible. His Dark Grace turns to stare at her, goading for a response.

The cowl and the whited-out effect of the lenses are eerie up close, but dealing with the devil is much less intimidating when one has leverage. In Vivienne’s case—he knows she’s capable and motivated enough to possibly add something like a kill-switch to the car, just to fuck with him if he pisses her off. His Dark Grace wants her baby real bad, and with proof of concept she can probably get him to do anyt—

Hold up, Vi, say that again? Her inner Ros stops that train of thought.

“Differential adjustment shou—well. Acceptable,” she gives him the compliment, leaning back into the seat with a more relaxed posture. They never make the ergonomics of them fit for anyone of average height; her hairpin has slightly loosened from how the back of the seat rubbed against her updo, and she pulls the pin free to restyle her hair. She feels the Batman’s stare as he waits, and she keeps him waiting. “You’re competent and quick on the uptake. Adaptive.”

Wrangling the Batman was the equivalent of wrangling a division of egotistical engineers working at the cutting edge of everything—all very competent people that will step on each other’s toes, get in each other’s way, and are too used to being correct that they forget their purpose. The balance was slightly off here, becoming the classical joke of “one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses.”

But everyone has their leverage points, and all are susceptible to The Carrot versus The Stick in personalized ratios and applied judiciously. Vivienne didn’t aim to do anything as Machiavellian as put the Dark Knight of Gotham under her thumb, but that’s where he somehow ended up. She, by sheer grit, found the winning combo of getting him to listen to her—at least when it came to nonsensical designs—and actively soliciting her opinion. She’s not dumb enough to lose that leverage when she sees it in her hands. Maintaining it requires work: showing agreeableness to an extent, with the occasional reminder that he’s in her territory and he would do well to remember it. A little flick to the ego, occasionally.

It helps to put into perspective that, at the end of the day, Bruce Wayne the Batman is nearly five years younger than her. Engineers and technicians under her, the ones ranging from two to ten years younger, with a plethora of tertiary degrees between them—her mind can’t help flagging them as “children” until they temper themselves with a real project, from bid to deliverable.

So, of course her brain demoted the fucking CEO of her company and its parent conglomerate to being a “boy” as soon as he called her Lucius’s PA. She has found no evidence contrary to that ever since. With him neatly categorized, accounting for unique attributes and handling, Vivienne knows very well how to deal with “boys,” because she wouldn’t have gotten this far otherwise.

“Hah. If you had wrecked my shit, as with your typical M.O., maybe I could’ve gotten a nice dinner out of you tonight.” Her tone is intentionally sharper, diction and accent more crass with the habitual New Jersey attitude rather than her usual featureless cosmopolitan speech pattern. Dusk was here, steadily eating away the evening hours as autumn progressed. They’ve stayed later than she anticipated, but…

…for once, in a very long time, she was having fun. The evidence is on her teeth—she was grinning wide enough to catch some of her lipstick on her canines, which her tongue can clearly feel the slick of it.

“Well. We’re done here. Keep up with”—she gestures at the whole of him with a dismissive hand— “that well enough, don’t piss me off, and maybe you’ll earn your new toy by the end of next quarter.”

That whole posturing—after prolonged proximity and the hot-and-cold of seemingly hard-won praise versus snide dismissiveness—is supposed to make His Dark Grace harrumph and skulk away.

Today, he grabs her hand. It’s not violent or anything, but he doesn’t touch her. She’s lost her temper enough to jab her finger in his cowled face, and he’s been taken aback enough and in the position to let her. He’s never touched her.

That—that’s not in the script.

His Dark Grace continues to stare at her, his exposed jaw not quite clenched enough to denote a possible temper tantrum incoming. So, she minutely cocks her chin up, adding a slight challenging tilt to her expression with a raised eyebrow and the slight baring of her teeth in a sneering smile. What are you doing? Are you really—really?

He has her wrist with his left hand, and his full attention and facing is towards her. The right hand comes closer. And because he doesn’t pull her that she lets him, it’s so much closer until—of all fucking things—she feels the gauntlet leather past the corner of her mouth and pressure on her teeth.

The thumbpad has her lipstick stain on it from him wiping it away.

She scoffs, half-between a laugh and an incredulous squawk, and tries to tug her hand away. It doesn’t budge. “How badly do you want this car?” The tone isn’t right—wrong mix of scathing versus levity. And yet, it seems to draw him in closer, the tireless masochist that he is. “Didn’t I say ‘don’t piss me off’?”

“I’m hoping to do the opposite.” This close, he doesn’t bother with the growl at all. He’s almost inaudible over the engine. The lipstick-stained gauntlet cups her jaw, the thumb carefully avoiding her skin, and he leans in when she doesn’t resist.

What the fuck. What is happening. Did he bug the apartment, overhear the sleepover-bullshit talks with Ros?

It’s fascinating, clinically speaking. From what Vivienne’s heard of local gossip, especially among the secretary pool and their particular brand of romantic fantasizing, the Batman is expected to be rough. Wild. He’s supposed to fulfill all sorts of “tall, dark, and handsome” daydreams and lonely imaginings at night, along with fighting crime—what a busy guy.

So, to have him soft and insistent at her mouth, but more like asking for permission than forceful, is a fascinating gap between expectation and reality. He’s not a shabby kisser at all; the playboy types usually have something else going on that makes everyone else do the work for them, and they get to reap all the pleasure. That is apparently not the case here.

Eventually, he pulls back so they can breathe and reassess.

Vivienne looks. She really looks—his face may be mostly covered, he’s still staring, but he’s flushed, visibly steadying his breathing, and her lipstick stains his mouth in a viscerally appealing way that makes her want to lick her teeth. He’s paradoxically much more exposed than she is.

And with that, His Dark Grace is really such a pretty boy—something Vivienne has constantly lamented with Ros over for his pissy attitude. He’s perfectly amenable now, though.

“You really want this,” she says this again, her free hand coming down to pat the console between them and leaning closer.

He’s still a cheeky shit, though. “I want it,” and tilts his head again, ready to close the distance at her say-so.

She means the damn car, but— “Then you’ll have to work for it,” and she closes the distance herself.

#phd-verse #on ands #verm bits #so uh. what am i up to rn? (besides this)#still finishing my document (380+ pgs now)#i ended up running some additional experiments bc i'm insane #and i'm still waiting for the various admins in my life to fucking give me my paperwork and aehrohewohrowehofsd #and and trying to not commit homicide before i graduate :)#but back to the snippet---i hope this is some interesting insight into the whole thing

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lemonluwrites · 1 year

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My One And Only (Is You) - Part One

I want to start by saying first and foremost I DO NOT OWN any of the Yan Bois you see in the story they are taken from other creators (I will post their blog links below) the only thing that is mine is Tim and other original characters so please show the creators some love Please be respectful and kind to the creators they are human too If I miss anything Or forgot to add certain stuff let me know Also Minors DO NOT INTERACT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

My first time posting fanfic AAHHH This Idea came to me one day when I was reading Anon asks about what if MC was the yandere I really liked the idea but I wanted to add my own twist so instead of MC what if they (The Yan Boys) turned a completely innocent person in to a yandere like them and they slowly became obsessed with their own MC this story will of course will be a slow burn type of deal so bare with me I will try my hardest to keep the yan boys as close to there characters as possible but I won't make any promises as I was never good at stuff like that so sorry in advance if the seem OOC

Part One - introduction Tim doesn’t like to remember the days before his adoption, before his new parents took him in. Sure, he remembers minor details of his former house and his original name. He will gladly talk to you about the weird stains on the wall that kinda looked like a bunny or how he used to have a cat named tuna. well at least he thought it was his cat. It would come and go whenever it pleased. He liked to assume his kitty was a free spirit that could never be tied down. Those are the things he liked to talk about, the things he rather remember but if asked anything else about his biological parents he would lie and say he doesn’t remember them as he was too young to truly know them His new parents, though well, he couldn’t really lie about that. To say they were slightly better than his bio parents was the best he could say about them. They were rich with a very high reputation in the city they lived almost owning every business in the area. He remembers the first time they paraded him around random strangers coming up to his new parents complimenting them, saying how brave and kind they were for adopting someone like him. He could just scream. The truth of the matter is they didn’t really care about Tim (the new name they gave him) they just wanted to earn brownie points for being kind enough to take a chance on a troubled kid like him. Not surprising to Tim, they didn’t really know what to do with him. Once the novelty wore off, it was like a switch. Everything Tim did bothered them, whether it was as simple as just sitting and doing nothing to how he breathed. Needless to say, Tim was their only child. The best days for Tim were when both of his parents left on business, leaving him alone in the house. Those quiet days where he could be whoever he wanted without the added fear and anxiety were truly bliss. Of course, blissfulness didn’t last long. He eventually was forcefully enrolled in to a private school. Forced to wear an itchy and god awful uniform. He tried his hardest to make friends, but no matter how friendly and kind he was, no one seemed to like him, so he became a loner — a friendly loner, that is. His parents were not thrilled about this. No child of there’s would be some loser, so that’s when they started to pay and blackmail other parents to allow their kids to come and play with Tim. That didn’t help as those kids would mostly just use his toys and gaming consoles without saying a peep to him, although Tim remembers one kid something about them was… different. When they came over, much like the other kids, they went to his gaming consoles. Tim was ready to pass the time in silence when the game booted up almost instantly; the kid became talkative, going on rambling after rambling about the red plummer. Yet that wasn’t what was different about the kid, it was their eyes and how they light up when talking about said topic. A topic they loved. A topic they were passionate about. It was in that moment Tim admired that kid and wanted to see more of that light. A part of him wanted that light. In school, he made it a point to always talk to that kid to be around them, to see them, but sadly, not everything last forever. That kid, much like everyone else in Tim’s life, switched no longer did they have that light in their eyes instead it was replaced with a vapid void that kid became Tim’s first bully that is until a tragic accident occurred they eventually found that kid in sewer tunnel someone had strangled him to death with his own belt he remembers the police questioning him and his other classmates but nothing came from it to this day the case remains unsolved. There are some days Tim wishes he could have been there. Maybe it all could have been prevented. By the time Tim was 19, his parents insisted he go to college and study business so that one day he could take over theirs, but Tim had no desire to inherit anything from them deciding Instead, he packed his stuff and left the city and moved in to a small town and took a job at a dinner being a server. He eventually got an apartment, but due to how expensive the rent was, he put out an ad for roommates. Roommates came and went, none truly staying for long. Now 21, having moved again and no longer working for the dinner, he got another job in an ice cream shop. Quickly, his personality seemed to fit the establishment. His cheery disposition attracted parents and kids alike, making him an ideal worker. Tim adored his job - no, he loved it. The light in people’s eyes as he hands them their treat made him giddy. He really did love the light in people’s eyes. It was during that time he got a new apartment, but much like last time he couldn’t afford rent, so once again he put out an ad for a roommate. This one would not only be permanent, but different from the rest. That is when he met Redacted. The man had a strange sense of style grunge, maybe? He wasn’t sure he has never really met anyone dressed like that. Tim liked it in a way. Redacted wasn’t a very social guy. He mostly stayed in his room and every once in a while came out to eat what Tim made or to use the bathroom, although there were times Tim would hear him leave during the night. Tim figures he works at night. Poor guy must work long hours as he’s mostly gone all night. It’s no wonder he has bags under his eyes and looks like hell because of this, Tim takes care of most of the house chores. He doesn’t really mind as, despite having a job as well, he mostly has too much free time. Too Much time to think and Tim doesn’t like to think. Tim has never entered Redacted’s room since he moved in the last time was when he showed Redacted said room. But why would he enter? I mean, that’s redacted room you never enter someone else’s room without permission. That’s just… rude. But of course sometimes you have to be a little rude just to get things done. It was late at night when Tim woke up another nightmare to add to the books. After a few failed attempts to fall back to sleep, he decided he might as well get a few things done around the house before he goes to work. He made his way to the hallway, his bare feet brushing against the carpet before hitting the solid floor. As he made his way to the kitchen, he stopped by the laundry room, glancing at the dark room noticing how full the laundry basket was. He sighed and thought, might as well since I’m here. He entered the small room and loaded the washer with clothes when he noticed very quickly Redacted had not given him his laundry yet odd as Redacted always made it a point to hand him his clothes curiously he poked his head out of the room and stared at Redacted’s door as it was just a couple of inches away from the laundry room. Tim debated a couple of seconds before making his way to the other’s room. Quietly, he placed his ear against the wooden door, listening intently for any movements or noises that the other was there. Tim knocked lightly, leaving his ear pressed against the door. ”Redacted? you in there?” No response. Tim moved away from the door, glancing down at the golden knob. He took a deep breath as he slowly reach for it. Usually redacted would have the door locked, as this wasn’t the first time Tim tried to open the door. He would always hear it every time he entered his room, which Tim didn’t mind. It was his room. But this time, the door was unlocked. This startled Tim. Did Redacted forget to lock the door? Slowly, Tim poked his head in the darkroom. An odd smell hit him. He moved away from the door and gaged it smelled like something died in there. Now he was even more determent to enter the room. After all, what if Redacted died? once again he approached the door this time fully opening it ”Redacted?” He flicked the lights on, scanning the room. It was a mess of bottles and bags of chips scattered around. In the beginning, he had felt bad due to Redacted not having carpet, but now he was gratefully the room had none. As a matter of fact, he was sure the smell was coming from the rotten food or the copious amount of hair dye fums or maybe both. Carefully, he walked around the room, truly admiring some of the decor. Much like Redacted himself, his room was a grunge like style. Tim couldn’t help but stare in aw at his PC set up. It was truly impressive. On the bed, (despite being a mess) was a red electric guitar. He wonders why Redacted hasn’t played before or maybe he has when Tim isn’t around. Tim noticed pieces of clothing scattered around the floor. He picked them up one by one while also throwing away the bottles and bags. He wasn’t sure if he should fold the other’s bed but he decided not to touch it as he didn’t want to disturb Redacted’s guitar. Now with arms full of clothes, he noticed how some pieces didn’t really match Redacted’s style, although he shouldn’t really judge. After all, maybe Redacted was branching out with his clothing options. Tim was about to turn to leave the room, feeling like he had overstayed his welcome, when he caught sight of the closet. It was slightly ajar. He stared at the closet as curiosity took hold of him again. Shifting the pile of clothes in one arm, he reached out to the door handle and pulled it open.

#fanfiction #14 days with you redacted #stnafgame #see thru need a friend #stnaf #14dayswithyou #✨-friend #original characters #💣- Tim MacNeil #My One And Only (Is You)#MOAOIY

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primofate · 3 years

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Hi there, can I request the boys seeing you got injured or being attacked, whichever is fine ^^

Hey anon! You didn’t specify how injured but I’ll just run with it hahaha :)

Shortfic

Scenario: You got injured Part 1

Part 2 with Zhongli

Part 3 with Xiao

Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe

Warnings: angst, injury, no character death though

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Diluc

“Master Diluc, if I could just interrupt--” one of the caretakers in the winery walked up to his office and prepared for the assault of words that could be fired towards him, sure enough, Diluc interrupted. “What is it? I’m a little busy right now, make it quick,” he hadn’t turned his face to look at the grim expression weaving in and out through the caretaker. Hadn’t bothered to look up to check if there was anything amiss, but the caretaker continued quickly “It’s Y/N,” the caretaker had only paused for a moment but Diluc had already picked his head up at the mention of your name. It was here that he realises something must have gone wrong, the caretaker’s expression was not a pleasant one. He was up on his feet, eyes widening a fraction at the following words, “They came back to the mansion seconds ago and they’ve been injured past what Adelinde could fix so we called for a doctor—”

In Diluc’s hurry he had stumbled over his chair, it tripping behind him with a thud on the floor but he ignored it and fast runs towards your room. Dear Archons he should NOT have let you go on that commission by yourself. You could hold your own, yes, but things happened and he really should have thought that through first. He was berating himself for it as he swung the door open. “Y/N?!”

The urgency in his voice tells you that he perhaps had the wrong idea of what was happening, it was really just a gash on your leg, although it was bleeding profusely, the cut must have been deeper than you thought. The maid had already placed a tourniquet to stop and slow the bleeding. You tried not to show it in your face, not wanting to alarm your lover any further, but it. hurt. like. hell. “Diluc, I’m fine, it’s just a gash,”

The maid that was previously sitting on the chair next to your bed moves away, Diluc replacing her, his eyes didn’t tear away from the wound on your leg, his expression contorted to that of worry and nervousness, before finally turning to your face, reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. “Stop lying. You’re pale, you’re sweating--” of course he sees through you, he knows the second you get upset, knows every crease on your forehead and every slight furrow of the brow. He had memorized every inch of his beautiful, beautiful treasure. “Your hands are trembling, you’ve lost too much blood, where’s the doctor?!” He grips your hand at the realization that you might actually be in a more dire situation than presented, and just on cue the doctor comes through the door, asking for some time alone with you to do his job.

Diluc paces outside the door, unable to stay in one place for long. He kept thinking about how frail you looked. How, if you were unlucky, it wouldn’t have just been your leg. He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to let you out of his sight from then on. He knew full well it would annoy you to have him following you around everywhere but.... How could he not after this?

The doctor emerged half an hour later and explained that you just needed a bit of rest and that, with a little healing magic, you didn’t need the stitches at all. “Don’t let them use that leg for a day and they should be fine, it’s nothing life-threatening but they did lose a lot of blood and is going to need time to recuperate. They’re asleep at the moment,”

Diluc takes note of everything and quietly slips into your room. They must have sedated you in the process and he sighs as he plops down on the chair that was still placed next to your bed. His eyes soften at the sight of you finally relaxed and less in pain, hand reaching out to brush off strands of stray hair that blocked his view of your face. “You’re the only one who can scare me this much,” he mutters under his breath, as if complaining and he swears that he sees a very small and light grin on your face, as if teasing him. He smiles a little, just happy that you’re stabilized and leans in to kiss your forehead, opting to stay by your side till you wake up.

----------

Kaeya

“What do you mean unconscious?”

“J-Just as we said, Captain. They were unconscious when we found them,” Kaeya sighs in slight exasperation. Normally he was a jolly camper but when the knight in front of him is unable to say how injured you are, Kaeya gets a little wordy. “I meant to say why were they unconscious? Were they hurt? Where are they now?”

Kaeya stands. He was in the middle of some Favonius paper work. “They were bleeding profusely from the head,” Kaeya stops as if lightning has struck him and stares pointedly at the knight. “These details should be said early on,” he thought that it had just been something less threatening. Perhaps you had somehow passed out, exhausted, on your bedroom floor. Or perhaps had just rolled from the bed and onto the floor. They said that they found you in the bedroom, and his blood froze when he realizes that someone went in there to attack you.

Kaeya doesn’t bother talking the other knight into giving better reports next time, he’d do that later. He could guess that you were probably taken into the Favonius infirmary. Sure enough, when he walks in there, face scrunched up into what could only be described as worry and anger mingling together, you were awake, head bandaged up and your eyes meet. His heart breaks at how you still smile at him despite the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. He stands next to the infirmary bed and gingerly touches your cheek, peering into your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks, eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around you. “Who did this?” and there was that angry and cold undertone in his voice that you rarely heard, as if his cryo vision had taken over his whole being.

“I’m sorry, Kaeya, I-- I can’t quite remember,” You put a hand up to cover half of your eye, your head was still throbbing and in quick realization Kaeya eases up on you and gently pushes you on your back to rest. “It’s fine, sorry, I just--” he cuts his own speech off and takes a deep breath in. Focus on the good. He tells himself. “I’m glad you’re alright, take it easy, I’ll take care of things,” By that he means he might just slaughter whoever even had the guts to break into your house and attack you in the middle of the day. The break-in was reported by townspeople, and Kaeya was sure as hell he’d get every witness to describe that asshole’s face.

“You’re staying with me for the moment,” he decides quite quickly, and you had no qualms with that whatsoever. Hearing that you had no protest at all, he grins and leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, afraid to hurt you. “No complaints? Perhaps this was your grand scheme all along to come live with me,” You can’t help but chuckle at how quick he bounces back. “Maybe, honey. Maybe,”

----------

Albedo

“Ow--” the knife clatters to the floor, as blood starts to pool around your finger. Albedo spins around at the meek sound you make, ignoring the knife on the floor and strides over to you just as you’ve turned on the sink and started running water on the small cut on your finger.

“Let me see,” You turn to him, blinking. His face was blank. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he was staring straight at you. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a small cut,” but he doesn’t waver and glances at the water running over your finger. “Let me see,” he tries again, this time rather forceful. That got you to obey. Turning the faucet off and awkwardly offering your hand to him.

He receives it and cradles it in his as if it was porcelain, upturning your hand to look at the small cut on your pointer finger. It was tiny. Really nothing compared to wounds that a knight might sustain. Albedo sighs and looks up at you, “Don’t go anywhere,” before stalking off, coming back a few seconds later with a first aid kit. “...Al, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal,” Albedo would only let one person give him a nickname. You. No one else. Frankly he thought the nickname was weird but if it danced on your lips, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Y/N, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to take this lightly,” he takes out some ointment and a small roll of bandage, starting with the ointment. “Everything and anything that hurts you is a significant thing,” his gaze darkens, as if glowering at that microscopic cut. “Miniscule or massive, it doesn’t make a difference to me,” he starts wrapping your finger, “if it taints your skin, I cannot help but feel--” he doesn’t know the right word, but you do, judging from how his hold on your wrist tightens.

A soft smile paints your features at how he was such a worry-wart. Sometimes he was so bad at navigating his own feelings but you could decipher them anyway, from his actions. You let him worry over you, and thank him once he’s done. He finishes his work by taking your hand, and pressing it to his lips, his eyes darting up to lock on yours. That made you blush every damn time. His green eyes were just so mesmerizing, and so was his heart.

----------

Childe

Dear mother of the Archons, perhaps whoever was responsible for your injuries had some type of death wish. Everyone should offer prayers for whoever had cut you up. Your arms and legs were littered with small scratches from trying to run away from the attackers, you thought going through the thick forest was a good idea. In essence, it had slowed the thieves down. They had managed to throw a fire bomb at you that severely burned your right hand, and the right side of your abdomen.

Perhaps it was thanks to adrenaline running through you that you had actually managed to make it to the gates of Liyue, just before the bridge, but you’d crumpled down right then and there. The Millelith guards didn’t recognize you, but the three Fatui agents walking on the bridge did. “Someone had better tell him,” The group of Fatuis scrambled nearer to you, one of them picking you up, but glancing at the other who had just spoken up. “I’m not doing that, you do it,” it was slightly comical, seeing them pass off the duty of who was supposed to report to Childe about it. “You know how he gets when it comes to them, I’m not doing--” then one of them finally gets their bearings together.

“Shut up, get them to the healer first,” The tallest one shoves the one carrying you, urging him to go fast and off he went. Now it was just two Fatui agents looking at each other. Two Fatui agents who decided that they would just face his wrath together. “Sir,” one of them starts as Childe turns around to look at them. He actually had no tasks today and was just about to go off to find you. “About Y/N...” Childe’s eyebrows shoot up, what in the world could these agents have to say about you? “We’ve sent them to the healers, they collapsed at the entrance of Liyue, it... doesn’t look good...”

All hell descends upon Childe’s demeanor and poise. His face darkens, his eyes burning holes through the two agents and his fists closed up on his side. His bow appears and hovers behind him, the only thing that shone through his dark person. “The two of you--” he starts, “are going to find out who did it. I’m expecting a report by nightfall,”

Childe himself shows up at the healers quarters, and was told of your condition. “Their hand is going to scar,” keeps reverberating in his head. Like the sound that he imagines the skulls of those who dared touch you crunching under his feet, over and over again. Childe actually winces when he sees you. Small bandages on your arms and legs from the scratches, your right hand wrapped up adequately and, he couldn’t see it now, but he was sure your abdomen was wrapped too.

You cracked an eye open, feeling another presence in the room. Childe immediately appears next to you, leaning over the bed and watching your expression. “...It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, tracing over your bandaged hand. You remained quiet for a moment before nodding your head slowly. Just remembering it caused a blinding pain in your mind’s eye. You’d been given drugs to ease the pain now, but there were still traces of it lingering on your skin. “How dare they,” both your eyes snapped open at Childe’s nearly contorted voice, shadowed and overpowered by rage.

You pick up your good hand and touch his arm with the tips of your fingers. You didn’t like it when he got like this. “Childe, it’s alright,” far from it, but it was the only reassurance you could offer. He catches your hand and brings it up to his face, pressing your hand to his cheek as if it was a lifeline. “It’s not. It’s not,” he repeats to himself, his anger also stemming from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. “They’ll regret even laying eyes on you,” You knew he wanted to go now, knew that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you yet again pull your hand away to grasp at his shirt, the fabric scrunching up under your hold. “...But stay with me for tonight? Please?”

That got him. He would never say no. His form relaxes and he leans in to kiss your lips, gentle yet with a hidden hunger in them. “Of course,” he simply says, as if his previous agenda forgotten.

But he would never forget. He would never forget for as long as he could see that scar.

Tomorrow, he would decimate each and every one of them.

5K notes · View notes

deanstead · 3 years

Text

Somebody’s Watching

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by danipearl16: Request- Jay has a girlfriend that nobody knows about and then they get a case where she’s being stalked and her stalker is killings women that seem to remind him of her and it turns out to be her ex-boyfriend from high school and Jay starts going downhill a little bit because he’s worried about her. Also his girlfriend is more on the younger than his side by 7 years

Word Count: 4,365

Warnings: cursing, mention of sexual assault/misconduct (non-graphic), mention of non-con touching, stalking, minor OC death, mention of injury, angst, fluff

A/N: Please beware of the triggers before you continue reading! I changed some parts to fit into the storyline but I still hope you like what I did with it! I’m pretty excited about this fic so I really really hope yall will like it! It’s my first time writing such a detailed case in so I hope it turned out well? Please hit me up and let me know what you think! Love yall!

---

You looked up from where you were sprawled on the couch, fiddling with your phone. Jay was sitting at the table, a small frown across his face as he pored over case notes.

Jay usually didn’t bring his work home with him but they’d just closed a big case and he had spent a whole week in the district. So instead of spending more time there to finish the paperwork, Jay had opted to bring it home instead.

You smiled to yourself just as Jay looked up. “Sorry babe.” He said, making a little face at the papers strewn across the table.

Chuckling, you climbed off the couch and moved towards him. You stood behind him, looping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I missed you.” You whispered.

Jay turned slightly, tugging you so that you now landed in his lap.

“Missed you too.” He whispered, smiling as one of his arms snaked around your waist, holding you securely to him, another hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Sorry I’ve been busy.”

You shook your head, smiling.

You’d been dating for a while but no one else knew. Both of you had agreed to keep it on the down low, partly because of your age difference. Even though you had agreed you’d keep it quiet at least for the first few months, it had been a lot more than that and it had been going so well that you didn’t really want to purposefully invite anyone into this world that Jay and you had created for yourselves. Rather than keeping it a secret, you guys just hadn’t made the effort to tell anyone or publicize it to the world. This also meant that when he was stuck at the district, you didn’t get to see him but on such days, Jay was always mindful about checking in.

“What’s on your mind?” Jay asked.

“Just thinking I’m lucky to have you.” You responded, leaning in to try to give him a hug. Instead, Jay stroked your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. “Now, I really need to finish this.”

You laughed. “Go forth.”

---

Jay had taken a few well-deserved days of furlough, which he had mostly spent curled up with you. You didn’t have any complaints, it had been just what you both needed.

But Intelligence couldn’t catch a break. It was Jay’s first day back and now, he was already walking up to a crime scene.

Jay pushed the yellow crime scene tape upwards, letting Hailey walk through ahead of him before following behind her.

“What do we have?” Jay asked, approaching the spot where Adam and Kim were standing.

Kim turned. “Kate Whitewood, 22, stabbed multiple times.”

“She’s not in the system. No priors, nothing.” Adam added.

“No belongings on her?” Voight asked, looking around.

Adam shook his head. Jay frowned. “There’s barely any blood here.”

Kevin nodded, jogging forward to join them. “This is probably just the dump site. She must have been killed elsewhere.”

Hailey stood from where she had bent to examine the body. “She has defensive wounds on her. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find skin under her fingernails.”

Jay bent forward slightly. “What are those? Marks around her neck? We need to get her to the ME to get the exact cause of death.”

“Kim, bag her hands and get forensics to run a deluxe.” Voight said, as Kim nodded.

“My CI works this street, let me see what I can find out.” Jay said, turning away.

---

“So Kate was last seen at this bar right in town.” Hailey said, walking in and sticking a screenshot onto the board, which showed a camera view of the street outside the bar.

Kate could be seen on the image, her head turned slightly as she waved to someone, a man standing by her side. Hailey tapped the image.

“We can’t find this guy. His face is always turned away from the camera, facial recognition is out.”

Voight nodded. “Jay, have you heard from your CI?”

Jay nodded, resting slightly against Hailey’s desk, his arms crossed in front of him. “My guy says there haven’t been any deals going down. I think we can rule out drugs or gangs. Streets have been quiet ever since that big bust we did last month.”

“It was 28 degrees out last night, ME couldn’t find the exact time of death. But there were signs she was raped, signs of asphyxiation and five penetration wounds from a knife.” Kevin said, opening the file he had gotten from the medical examiner earlier.

Voight turned to Kim. “Who was she?”

Kim sighed. “Kate was a hard worker, she had just started her job as a receptionist at a dentist’s office in South Loop. Dad’s MIA, Mum’s remarried and relocated to New York so she’s living on her own.”

“Have we found who she was with last night?”

Adam nodded. “I’ve gone through her phone. Looks like she was meeting her friend Grace at the club last night.”

“We need to talk to her. I want to know about the last day of Kate’s life. Timeline. Check all sex offenders in the area. Comb her social media. Let’s go.” Voight instructed.

---

Jay knocked on the main door, glancing sideways at Hailey. The door swung open.

“Grace Archer? I’m Detective Upton, this is Detective Halstead, can we come in?” Hailey asked.

She furrowed her brows. “What’s this about?”

“You’re friends with Kate Whitewood?” Hailey asked, without directly answering her question. She nodded and without missing a beat, Hailey continued, “We need to ask you a few questions about last night.”

Grace stepped back to let them in, her face falling as she led them to the sitting room.

“I heard from her parents. The whole thing’s horrible.” Grace whispered, wrapping her hands around herself.

“Can you tell us what you remember?” Jay asked.

Grace looked up. “Kate’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few months ago, so I took her out. She needed to get out again.”

“Were you approached by anyone?” Hailey asked.

“Several.” She answered.

“Anyone that stood out?”

Grace paused, trying to recall. “Kate didn’t even really want to go. She barely looked at the guys… except…”

Hailey sat up a little. “There must have been something about this guy that she left with, something unique. We have a photo of him on the surveillance tape. Flashy?”

Grace nodded, “Yeah, he had this like... attitude… like he was hitting on us but he was making a joke of it at the same time.” She paused. “The last thing she told me was that she had a great time… I shouldn’t have forced her to come out.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Hailey leaned over and patted Grace comfortingly on the arm. “Thanks for talking to us. Please call us if you think of anything else.”

As Jay walked out of Grace’s house with Hailey, he looked at his partner. “This guy’s confident, he’s smooth and it doesn’t look like he knew Kate or Grace.”

---

For the rest of the day, the team had almost combed through the whole of Kate’s whereabouts before she had disappeared and all they had was a big fat nothing.

Jay typed a quick text to you to let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to come over tonight.

You read the text, smiling a little. Jay was busy but it was cute that he always kept you informed. You stopped walking, typing back a reply to tell him it was okay and to do what he had to do, before you kept her phone back into your pocket.

You walked along the street, the same street you walked on every night, frowning a little. You turned around, scanning the street behind you.

You could swear that it was like someone was watching you, or following you. But the street was empty. This wasn’t the first time you had had this feeling - like the little hairs on the back of your neck were standing but you had nothing to back up this feeling you had.

Holding your bag tighter against you, you pushed yourself forward, quickening your footsteps, only letting up as you passed the safety of your apartment building’s front door.

As you passed the threshold of your apartment and closed the door behind you, you pulled out your phone, staring at it for a while. Part of you wanted to call Jay, to hear his voice and have him tell you that you were just tired, imagining things. But the rational part of your brain convinced yourself that everything was okay, reminding you that Jay was so busy and deep in a case, he really shouldn’t have to worry about you.

Ultimately, you put your phone on the counter, chuckling at yourself. Maybe you really were too tired.

---

By the next morning, another body had turned up, not two streets away from the first dump site.

Jay felt an uneasy feeling spread in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the photo of the new victim that was already up on the board. They had a serial killer in Chicago and this guy’s victim type had physical characteristics that were scarily similar to you.

“Jay.” Hailey broke Jay out of his thoughts. “Emma Green, 23, strangulation marks, six stab wounds.”

Jay turned to his partner and nodded. “Did they go to the same club?”

Hailey handed Jay a file. “No, but look at what we picked up on the surveillance camera.” Jay opened the file, studying the photo.

“This is our guy isn’t it?” He pointed at a male figure who was standing next to their second victim, his face still hidden from the camera, wearing a plain cap.

“Hey guys, I might have found a link.” Kim said, walking in. “I checked the employee records and there’s a bartender that works in both clubs and he was on shift on each day our victims went missing. He’s got a prior for aggravated assault and harassment.”

“We’ll take it.” Jay said, grabbing his jacket and heading out of the district.

Hailey fell into step next to him, glancing at him. “Jay, you okay?”

Jay nodded. “Let’s just get this son of a bitch.”

They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Hailey seemed to pick up that this case was affecting Jay differently but she didn’t press further, allowing Jay to lead the way into the closed club.

“Ben Carlton?”

The bartender looked up from where he was, his eyes falling onto the police badge that was hung around Jay’s neck.

In a sudden motion, he ducked out and ran.

“Hey, stop!” Jay yelled, as both he and Hailey launched themselves after him, Hailey shooting out the front door to try to head him off.

“5021 George, I have a suspect fleeing on foot.” Jay called into his radio, sprinting after the bartender.

The bartender barely made it onto the next street before Hailey flung herself at him around the corner, rolling onto the ground as Jay pulled out his gun. “Don’t move!” He yelled, as Hailey pulled the bartender to his feet.

“Let’s go.” Jay snarled.

---

“It wasn’t me!” Ben yelled as he sat in the interrogation room, facing Jay and Hailey.

Jay sighed internally, watching Ben’s reactions and the way he was answering the questions Hailey was shooting at him.

“Those were mistakes, I didn’t do this!” He yelled again.

Jay pushed himself upright, getting up from where he was leaning against the wall and pushing the photos of the victims onto the table. “This. Look at this. We can place these girls at the bars you worked at just before they died.”

“Look.” Ben said, looking up at Jay. “I saw them but they left before I even finished my shift.”

Jay glanced at Hailey. “Who did they leave with?” Hailey asked.

Ben looked from Hailey to Jay. “Look, I don’t know the guy, he’s not a regular. But he’s white, about their age. I noticed him because he headed for them the moment that he walked in. Like he knew they were there.”

Before Jay or Hailey moved, a knock came from the door.

“You guys gotta see this.” Adam said, sticking his head in.

“Sit tight.” Jay said to Ben, following Adam outside, where Kevin was waiting as well.

Kevin handed the file to Jay. “We got another one.” Jay flipped open the file, which told him what he already feared. Another victim, of a physical type that not only matched the first two victims but also you.

Jay looked up. “His cooling off period is getting shorter. We need to get this son of a bitch.”

---

The feeling was getting a little stronger that someone had been watching you.

You glanced over your shoulder but as usual the street was empty. Maybe you needed to stop staying late.

You turned back towards the front. There were sounds of footsteps but you swallowed the lump in your throat, quickening your pace as discreetly as you could.

It definitely felt like someone was following you now. You were almost running by the time you rounded the corner, colliding with someone.

You gave a yelp of surprise.

“Y/N!”

You had collided with Jay.

You let out a breath, spinning around to look over your shoulder.

“What’s going on? You okay?” Jay’s eyes snapped from you to the empty street behind you.

You turned back to look at Jay. Now that he was standing in front of you, it didn’t seem that scary anymore - maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

You shook your head, taking one last glance behind you. “What are you doing here? You finished the case?”

Jay smiled but the smile didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just wanted to check in on you. I have to go back soon.”

You reached for his hand without saying anything and that’s how the both of you walked back to your apartment, your hand clenched securely in his, almost like the both of you had a tight bubble around you.

You could tell Jay’s mind was far away, and it was even more unlike him to come see you in the middle of a case. You knew there was something troubling him but you weren’t one to press. Jay would tell you when he felt he could or he wanted to.

Instead, you just squeezed his hand.

Almost as if you were prying him from his thoughts, Jay looked at you and smiled. He pulled you closer to him, tucking you under his arm.

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, without looking up at him, just as he escorted you to your door.

Jay turned to look at you and nodded. “I will be, once this case is over.” He leaned forward to give you a kiss. “If anything happens, you call me, okay? No matter what.”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded at him, watching him disappear into the elevator before you retreated back into your apartment.

---

Intelligence had been tirelessly chasing down leads but they now had four bodies and Voight was getting pressure to solve this quickly as well. They needed a break in this case and fast.

“Okay, let’s regroup, what do we have so far?” Voight barked.

“All four victims were raped and found with multiple stab wounds. We know he picks up his victims from bars and appears non-threatening enough that his victims are willing to leave with him.” Jay said, getting up.

Hailey headed to the board, frowning. “We dumped their phones but we weren’t able to find any connection between the victims other than their physical type.” Hailey cast a look at Jay, which Voight didn’t miss. “I think he’s working his way up to something.”

“Hey guys?” Kim spoke up as she walked back in, flipping open the file sitting on her desk. “I went back over the first murder to see if we missed anything. Look at this.”

Kim pulled in her chair, zooming into the photo. “This badge here on his jacket, it’s barely visible so we missed it the first few times. I sent it to the lab to see if they could enhance the image and this is what I got.”

Kim clicked and up popped the crest of a high school. “Look, it’s not just a general badge. Look at the year.”

“Okay, that is the crest for Lincoln High. It’s a jacket given to those who graduated that year.” Kevin said, frowning at it.

“I’ll run the list of students who graduated in that year.” Jay barked, heading straight for his desk, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

Cross-checking was the worst job ever but the moment Jay’s eyes landed on your name on the list of graduates, he pulled it together, eliminating the women, men who had moved out of state or country, until finally he only had three names on the list.

“Okay, I have a Steven Miller, Charles Shoemaker and John Marlin.” Jay finally spoke up as everyone looked up. “But only Steven Miller has priors.”

“For harassment, sexual misconduct, and attempted assault. Sarge, this has to be our guy.” Jay looked up at Voight.

“Do we have an LKA?” Voight asked.

“Already on it.” Adam said.

“Go pick him up.” Adam nodded, motioning to Kevin as they headed out.

Something was bugging Jay. Steven Miller. That name was…

Fuck.

Jay pushed back his chair, entering Voight’s office without knocking and closing the door behind him.

“Sarge.”

Voight looked up, frowning a little at the look on Jay’s face. He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking up at Jay.

“I’ve heard Miller’s name before. It was bugging me, but I remember now.”

Voight sat up straighter.

“I’m seeing his ex-girlfriend.” The words slipped past Jay’s lips. “Sarge, everything makes sense now. The physical type, the way he’s building up because his actual target…” Jay trailed off.

You had told Jay about Steven just once. You hadn’t gone into detail but you had told Jay about the short period that you had been together with Steven – his need for control over all aspects of your life, how he had always been a little rough, how he hadn’t taken any form of rejection well, and how you’d ended it the day he struck you.

“Take Hailey.”

Jay was already halfway to the door.

---

You had left early today.

It had been a while since you had done such an early shift but you’d been feeling more and more uneasy while walking home at night and the news coverage on the murders that were happening at the moment didn’t help.

You didn’t need Jay to tell you that you looked exactly like those girls who had been murdered. It was clear as day.

You fiddled with the key in the lock, opening the door.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you registered the person standing in front of you. In your house.

“Steven.” You muttered, your voice trembling, barely registering the butt of a gun heading towards your temple before it went dark.

---

Hailey hadn’t said anything but she knew something was off.

“Jay, what’s going on?” She asked. “How do you know this girl’s the target?”

Jay didn’t answer but pressed harder on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. The ringing tone going off through his bluetooth speaker in the car making him feel even worse.

“Jay.” Hailey said again. “I’m your partner.”

Jay glanced at her now. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Hailey’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

Jay let a beat of silence passed. “Miller’s her ex. I should have seen the signs, the physical type, everything, I…”

“Jay. She’ll be fine. Come on.” Hailey reassured him, as he turned his truck onto the familiar street.

“She’s still not answering.” Jay said, through gritted teeth. He’d been trying to call you since he had left the station.

Without hesitation, Jay bounded up the stairs, Hailey right behind him. From down the corridor, Jay could already tell your door was slightly ajar.

“Hang back.” Jay whispered, pulling out his service weapon.

Jay quietly approached the door. “Y/N?” He opened the door with his foot, freezing as his eyes landed on you, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, your eyes frantic as Steven held a knife to your throat from where he stood behind you.

Jay gritted his teeth, using his foot to slam the door shut, knowing that Hailey would know what to do.

“Step away from her.” Jay growled, pointing his gun directly at Steven.

Steven smiled. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Put that down.”

Jay grinded his teeth but didn’t move. You felt the cold blade of the knife press against your skin and inhaled sharply.

“Put. It. Down.” Steven repeated.

“Okay, okay.” Jay said, glancing at you before putting his hands above his head, disarming his gun and putting it down onto the floor.

Steven smiled again, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Jay growled.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do.” Steven answered.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jay looked straight at you. “It’s going to be okay. You focus on me, you hear me? I’m right here.”

“We broke up a long time ago, what the hell are you doing?” You asked. You were afraid, hell you were trembling, but this was crazy and you had to help Jay to find a way out of this.

“We wouldn’t be broken up if he hadn’t come between us.” Steven snarled, moving closer towards you, his lips almost touching your ear.

Jay growled. “Leave her alone.”

Steven looked back up at Jay again.

“What, you mean don’t do this?” Steven asked, crushing his lips against yours.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Jay yelled. “Is that what you did? How you forced yourself on all the other girls? What do you want, Steven? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“All I wanted was to be with Y/N! But you took her.” He spat.

“So you decided to go on a rampage?” Jay asked. You saw him twitch like he was looking for something so you started talking, as much as it made you want to gag.

“Steven, why didn’t you just talk to me?” You asked, trying to distract him.

“Talk? All you care about is him!” He yelled, lifting the knife and pointing it at Jay.

It happened in a split second.

The moment he lifted the knife, Jay yelled, “Now, Y/N!”

You threw yourself forward, covering your head with your hands as you heard the gunshots go off, just two. You weren’t sure who was shooting but you didn’t move until you heard Jay’s voice again.

“Y/N, it’s okay, it’s over.” Jay whispered.

You looked up, Jay’s face hovering above you.

“Jay…”

Jay nodded, “It’s okay, come here.”

Jay pulled his arms around you.

“He…” Jay shook his head, shielding your view of Steven’s now motionless body. “Don’t look back, come on.”

Jay tried to lead you out of the apartment, barely making it to the main door before his teammates appeared. “Jay!” Kevin called, as he spotted both of you.

Jay nodded. “Thanks.” Kevin nodded, his eyes lingering on the way Jay was holding you close to his side before making way for Jay to lead you back down to the ground floor where the ambulances were waiting.

Jay led you all the way to the waiting paramedics, not even leaving your side to get himself checked.

You weren’t hurt, not really. There was a little open cut from where Steven had pressed the blade a little too hard when he had been agitated but other than that you were fine. Well, that, and that disgusting feeling that came with remembering how Steven had pressed his lips against yours.

Voight approached you and Jay. Jay squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back.” You smiled and nodded.

Jay and Voight talked in low voices until Voight turned to look at you. “And she’s okay?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, she is. I just need to…”

“Do what you need to do. We’ll finish up here.” Voight said, nodding and clapping Jay on the back.

---

The paramedics had dressed the wound on the scene before Jay had brought you back to his apartment.

After getting you into a clean change of clothes and some warm food in you, you had ended up back in your favourite place in the world – on Jay’s couch, in Jay’s apartment, encircled in Jay’s arms.

You lay your head on Jay’s chest.

“So this was all because of me?” You asked in a low voice.

Jay sat up, looking at you. “What?”

“He killed all those women… because of me. I got them killed.” You whispered.

“No, no, baby.” Jay propped himself up, but didn’t let you go. “This is not your fault. Steven he… he did this, not you.”

You looked up at him. “He even… in front of you… he…” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, you felt disgusting. He’d kissed you, he’d done it in front of Jay and he’d ruined everything.

You hadn’t said that much but Jay just tilted your chin upwards and kissed you. “Jay…”

“I’ll take it all away.” Jay whispered. “I’m sorry, I should have been there sooner.”

You shook your head, swiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks.

Jay cupped your cheek again, pulling you into his chest. You balled your hand around his shirt, gripping at Jay.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Jay whispered.

“I’ll never let anyone touch you ever again.” He half snarled, still caressing you gently.

You leaned into his embrace, closing your eyes as the sound of Jay’s heartbeat gently lulled you back into the feeling of safety and security.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #resanoona request #tw #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd x you

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

“Longing for Attention” Illumi x Reader

Hello anon! Thank you for this awesome request! This story consists of a little angst and fluff towards the end. I can truly say that this story is the closest to Illumi’s canon characteristics. If you all did not know, I am celebrating my 100 follower goal! If you’d like to participate in this event, click this link. Please note that requests for this event will close on July 15th at 12 AM EST. The post will have all of the rules and prompts!

👁 👁 👁 👁

“I swear I’ll haunt you in your sleep, Zoldyck! ‘Ya hear me, boy?!”

A body thudded as this man’s speech was cut short. A tired Illumi Zoldyck came calmly walking towards his target with the straightest face ever. Even at the sight of blood, darker than any he had seen, his lips remained neutral and his eyes remained half-lidded as they were. The sound of the mini heel on his green loafers echoed as he continued to approach the deceased man before him. The ballroom was completely empty, leaving Illumi all by himself for who knows why and what else could happen.

Being a bounty hunter was challenging in itself but being a bounty hunter and dating an assassin is a totally different story. Criminals began to spread the word of your alliance with the Zoldycks and formed many gangs to retaliate against you both. Both of you have been shot at, stabbed a few times, and even been robbed! After being robbed at gunpoint and dealing with trauma, it nearly made you quit your job because of the stress and life endangering events faced almost everyday but for Illumi, it didn’t phase him at all. Not in the slightest. After being robbed of his engagement ring, he simply went to another jewelry store and bought another. He did not cry, quiver, or shutter.

After Illumi phoned his father and gave him a brief overview of his success, he proceeded to the exit. The light flickered, giving the impression that an eerie figure stood at the end of the hallway. Electricity hummed the closer someone approached it, sounding like a fly trying to find its way back outside. An atmosphere like this one did not bother Illumi in the slightest but he did not like being there no longer tha needed.

“Y/n! Y/n! I know you can hear me!”

“Now is not the time to play around. We need to vacate the premises immediately,” He thought to himself. He began to bang on doors, opened them up, and yelled your name to the heavens trying to find you.

“Oh! I know,” he said out loud, snapping his fingers.

He opened a tracking app on his iPhone that displayed all of his contacts that had recently shared their location with him. Once he began the search, it revealed that you were 400 kilometers away. Tracking your phone was something he did every time he could not find you. At times it was adorable and sometimes it was weird and intrusive. Illumi’s intrusive behavior stems from his mother, Kikyo and no matter how you put it, it is very unhealthy. Caring can easily turn into an obsession that can make you do unsound things.

“Illumi! I am in the bathroom. Can you give me a second,” you ask, slightly irritated, washing your hands quickly. You did not want to keep him waiting any longer. It was always a mystery if it was his anger or anxiety that prompted him to bust the door down just to make sure you were safe. Poor Illumi Zoldyck. His expression of love and how he cared for others was rather odd and unusual. It is safe to say that you were the best thing that has happened to him.

As you open the door, he stands with his long arms crossed in a huff, his long legs creating an upside down “V” shape gazing at you a slightly angry about your disappearance halfway through the mission.

“Where were you,” he asked, moving closer to you. “While I had to complete both of our jobs, you have been playing around in the bathroom.”

“Illumi, you’re—“

“Shhh—“ He placed his index finger over your mouth, bending down at eye level, and smiled devilishly. “—I’ll still pay you but you owe me a favor.”

“—But I wasn’t playing in the bathroom!”

As you were pleading your case, Illumi nonchalantly typed away on his phone. He quickly showed you his screen that listed your every step within the last few hours. It displayed where you were, the longitude and latitude, who you spoke with, and if you took any pictures. You had no idea that a smartphone could disclose so much personal information and since you have shared your location with him, he has access to it all.

“—Care to tell the truth?” Illumi raised his left eyebrow, using his somewhat intimidating tactic used when he was a child.

“Fine. Ugh! Why do you have to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“You’re…too overprotective. Give me some space sometime! Hell, you might be pleased to know where I was.”

“Pleased?! I nearly had a heart attack when I realized you were not by my side! Are you satisfied that my heart weakens everyday?”

“You’re so dramatic. You might want to take up acting, you know.”

“Ha, ha, so funny,” he said flatly.

As you roll your eyes in irritation, Illumi closes the leftover space between you two. Still bent over at eye level, he places his large hand on your cheek, blinks twice, while his straight face remains. His cold hearted personality seemed to always overshadow his body but all of his warmth seemed to be omitting from his palm.

“I care about you deeply. I cannot have you running away doing God knows what while we are on a dangerous mission like this one.”

“Illumi, I—“ He places his index finger over your mouth again, shushing you as he continues to, as they say, pour his heart out for once.

“I understand that you are a bounty hunter, but if I’m being honest it is a much different line of work than being an assassin. It is my job to care for you while I complete some of the harshest tasks on Earth.”

“I’m not a child, Illumi. Do you want to know what I was doing? Those longitude and latitude readings are very wrong, by the way.”

“Huh? Ok…where were you then?”

Still, your face was placed in his palm, his large eyes staring in yours somehow made you feel lost. Your delayed answer made his palm involuntarily tighten.

“I bought you this pocket sized white teddy bear…?” This statement was propositioned as a question rather than a statement because you were afraid of how he’d react. He was already startled and giving him a plushie would only make it worse. Instead of reacting calmly he would assume that giving him a plushie would imply that he was weak.

“…Valentine’s Day is a few days and I know you’ll be in Las Vegas handling business so I decided to buy you something that will remind you of me while you’re away.”

The small plushie was a white teddy bear holding a heart. It’s eyes were as big as Illumi’s. Before you could hold it up to him, he grabbed it rather gently, stood up straight, and held it in front of his eyes for examination. He turned it around a few times as if it was on a rotator. He placed his index finger inside of the keychain loop and finally smiled. He placed this small object against his heart just before he bent down to meet your eyes once again.

“I always think of you. Come to think of it, that must be why my shots have been off.”

His face scrunches in a humorous way. As usual, his smile fades away and returns to his neutral look. Illumi’s silence signaled that his mind was running a million miles a minute. So many questions and feelings begged to be released but something was preventing him from doing so. You could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to suffocate you with a bear hug but he wouldn’t do it. He has been trained to think that assassins do not need friends, cannot express their feelings, and can only do what is needed to get the job done. It’s ironic; the Zoldyck children are not allowed to have friends but they are allowed to have lovers only so they can reproduce and keep their legacy alive. Love has no part in their marriages; they are only contracts, literally. As in love as Kikyo and Silva were (and still are), it would seem like they’d emphasize the importance of love to their children. As a result, they all have adopted an odd way of showing affection for others.

In this instant, Illumi’s face appeared to be more endearing than before. His face had darkened significantly, his cheeks were fatter like they were stuffed slightly, and his eyes twinkled. You smiled as you have truly found the key to his heart. All this young man wanted and truly desired was to be loved not for his abilities or job, but for him and only him. Your warm hands, now on his cheeks, felt overwhelmed with warmth. Just the sight of him at that moment was breathtaking. The flickering power, the unrest souls in the next room of his targets, and the eerie atmosphere seem to fade while you gazed into his eyes. Pressing his cheeks together, puckering his lips was indeed both an amusing and cute sight to behold.

“You are so adorable, Illumi. Did you know that? This “bad boy” behavior and clutching a teddy bear is too much to take in. I might just send a photo to your mother. She’ll screech and tell the entire world.”

“You wouldn’t dare do that ,” he said, words muffled; lips still puckered. He seemed to flush more and more every time you’d remind him of how vulnerable he is right now.

“Try me!”

“Mother would just embarrass me, you know that!”

“I know. Then I’d be able to see the sweet, soft assassin that I see now. All warm and cuddly. I’m sure you just want to sit in the back seat of your Dodge and just fall fast asleep, am I right?”

“I plead the 5th,” he said flatly.

“I was right! Ha, ha!”

“Would you pipe down already?”

Illumi’s right hand was placed directly behind his torso carelessly pressed against his lower back. He appeared to be in pain but made no mistake. If asked about it, he’d lie just to debunk any statements about him being weak.

“What is in your hand? Let me see it.” Your demanding tone turned into one that a mother has, specifically Kikyo.

“It’s nothing,” he said, slightly wincing in pain.

“Let me see it now, Illumi or I swear I’ll—-“

“Fine! Fine! Just don’t make a big deal about it, alright?”

A promise is a promise; that is what you said to Illumi as you agreed to not over react once you saw his hand. A healed bruise nearly scarred the entire base part of his hand. A light red dotted cut looked as if someone took a exacto knife and grazed it. You gazed back into his eyes. He looked hurt; longing for attention for a cut that had already healed. As childish as it may seem, just the slightest bit of attention is something he craved, even if something like this had been healed a long time ago. Him wincing was something he conjured up to grasp your attention. He raised his hand in front of your mouth, leaving it bent for you to grab.

“Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

“Please,” he replies, smiling slightly again.

The touch of your soft, moist lips made his smile grow larger, his cheeks flushing yet again. A few overlapped lipstick stains remained on his hand, something he might get tattooed so everyone knew who he belonged to.

“Why can’t you be this way every time we finish missions? We could have sooo much fun.”

“If I have too much fun, I’d abandon my remaining missions and father would not like that at all. He might even put out a contract on me.”

You sigh somberly. Illumi had his moments of anger, roughness, and kept his distance but moments like this, where he wasn’t afraid to allow his softer side resurface made you feel content as if you completed a mission of your own. Gazing into his eyes one more time, they sparkled greatly.

“At least I can enjoy this while it lasts.”

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part III

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of feelings, handcuffs, testosterone, quite a bit of sex, one surprise kiss (cause Erwin is a privileged dick), parents, domesticity A/N: I apparently did not write an author’s note for this originally, but uh, this is one of my favorite sections of the whole fic, so.

Mike uses the rest of the break to relax, to get his head on straight so that when he gets back on campus he won’t be overbearing. He knows that’s the last thing you want from him.

You text back and forth a few times a day, but most of it is dumb shit, and the conversation dies off pretty quickly—either Mike not knowing how to respond or you just growing bored.

He busies himself by spending time with his parents and playing with Scout who eats up all the attention. Family comes over for Christmas, and his mom and aunt get into an argument. It’s nothing new.

He’s happy to get back to the school and back in classes just to stimulate his brain. More than that, he’s happy to see you again. Even if it means the two of you go back to friend-only status.

Things are awkward between him and Erwin, though. It isn’t the first time they’ve had a hiccup in their friendship, but this one has really rubbed Mike the wrong way. Erwin tries to apologize a few more times, but every time he does, all Mike can manage is an unconvincing, “It’s fine,” which the other man obviously doesn’t buy.

He tries not to be possessive when you start coming to the house again, but it’s fucking hard whenever he has to watch you and Erwin talk and joke around. Mike figured you’d be at least a little annoyed that he’d just walked in on the two of you like that, but you act like it never happened.

Eventually, Mike has to ask about it, just can’t help himself. “Aren’t you, like, even a little mad that he did that? Don’t you think it was fucked up?”

You’re sitting on Mike’s bed, a controller in your hand as you play Mario Kart, sound a little distracted when you respond, “I mean, yeah, it was fucked up, but I never really expected anything more from him.”

“What do you mean?”

You look at him from the corner of your eyes before staring at the screen again. “Erwin is a cocky motherfucker. I’ve seen the way he gets the girls on campus, probably thinks he can charm all of them which means he probably thinks he’s entitled to all of them. Us.”

“Are you calling him a predator?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think he’d ever, like, rape anyone. He at least has enough class and common sense not to do that. But I think… He doesn’t care who he goes after. Single girls, girls in relationships, happy girls, damaged girls. He just has a one track mind when it comes to sex. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway.”

Laying back on his bed, Mike laces his fingers behind his head and thinks on what you’ve said. “That just sounds like a drawn out way of saying he’s a flirt.”

“A massive flirt. Without any real care about whose feelings he hurts in the process.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I don’t appreciate it,” you sigh, “But he’s your best friend, so I’m willing to put up with some shit from him.”

“Even him perving on you?”

“Not the first time it’s happened to me, probably won’t be the last. He’s curious, I can tell.”

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

You stay quiet for several seconds, toggling over to another track on the game, then ask, “That make you uncomfortable?”

Blinking up at the ceiling, Mike wonders what the right answer to this is. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he doubts he’ll be able to act as aloof as you do.

“A little.”

You hum, nodding in a thoughtful manner before suggesting, “I think we can keep hooking up through this semester.”

Mike sits up on his elbow, looks at you with high eyebrows. “Wait, really?” He sounds too excited, he knows.

“Yeah. I have mostly easy classes, or really, I have interesting ones which makes studying for them easier. Plus, it might teach Erwin a lesson.”

He falls back flat, scoffing. “I don’t want you to fuck me to prove a point to Erwin. I want you to fuck me because you want to.”

The game music stops when you pause it, and then you’re straddling Mike, hands on his chest as you smirk at him.

“Don’t let this go to your head, Zacharias, but no one has ever fucked me the way you do.”

Mike tries not to grin, triumph blooming inside of him, and he grips your hips a little too tightly. “Oh, that’s definitely going to my head.”

You grind your covered pussy over his denim-clad cock, and Mike feels all his blood flow south.

Laughing, you lean down to ghost your lips over his and murmur, “Both heads, apparently.”

That day, the two of you start a routine that leaves Mike falling harder and harder with every passing day.

“Come on, please just be my date,” Mike begs, thinks about getting to his knees if it’ll help convince you.

“Why?” You ask, looking up from your textbook.

You and Mike are sitting in the library—you studying, him bothering you. “I’m honestly so tired of parties at this point.

“It’s not like the big parties we throw, though,” he tells you. “It’s just the brothers and their girlfriends.”

“That makes it even worse,” you push one little laugh through your nose. “What makes you think I wanna spend an entire night with a bunch of frat boys and their matching sorority girls?”

Mike rolls his eyes. “They’re not all sorority girls, just like, eighty-five percent of them.”

Your head lolls, an expression that reads nothing but apathy aimed at Mike, and he gives you a hopeful smile and adds, “On the bright side, we get to stay together all night…?”

“Oh god, it's a cuff party, isn't it?"

All he can do at this point is beg because the more he explains it, the more he realizes how not appealing this is to you. “Please.”

Sitting back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest and puff your cheeks out as you exhale heavily. “What’s in it for me?”

Fuck yes. Half the battle is won.

“Uhh,” obviously sex is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, so the first offer he makes is, “I’ll go down on you ‘til you cry.”

You snort. “Try again.”

“Fuck you ‘til you pass out?”

“Jesus—why do you want to hurt me? Try again. Third time’s a charm.”

Mike brainstorms for a solid thirty seconds, thinks about what you’ve mentioned to him over the past couple of weeks, sex and school and—

“I’ll help you study for your geochemistry exam.”

You finally look interested. “I’d actually really appreciate that. You took the course?”

“Yeah, environmental geochemistry was sort of my jam last year. Final grade was a ninety-seven.”

“Holy shit.”

Mike shoots you a satisfied smile, but before you can tell him to wipe it from his face, he asks, “So, you’re in?”

“I guess.”

This is how you both end up in the frat house handcuffed together. No one seems to be surprised at the fact that you’ve come with him, all the brothers used to you hanging around the frat house.

Most couples are walking around holding hands just because it takes some of the pressure off of everyone's wrists, but Mike doesn't dare try it with you. Too cute. Too comfortable.

These types of get togethers are Mike's favorite, though, always more relaxed than the open parties. There’s still drinking and music, but the energy is different since it’s a tighter knit group.

It takes about an hour for Erwin and his date to approach the two of you, fingers laced together, drinks in their free hands.

“Looking good,” Erwin greets with a smile. "Very… trapped."

“Yeah, you too,” Mike says, trying to ignore the subtext of Erwin's comment.

Blue eyes flick to you, and you’re questioned, “How’d he end up talking you into this?”

You don’t miss a beat as you reply cooly, “Bribed me with sex and study help.”

“Ah, of course he did.”

Mike’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches his pinky out to link with yours, a subtle claim. When you rest your head on his arm, he looks down at you and smirks.

“Anyway,” Erwin pushes on. “You remember Maddie, don’t you?”

Mike lies, “Yeah. How are you?”

The girl’s voice reminds him of who she is, “Well. How are you, Mike?” It’s a little high pitched and nasally with a northern accent. He especially remembers what she sounded like moaning for Erwin through the wall, obnoxious but Mike can’t really judge since he’s subjected the rest of the house to the same thing once or twice (or a dozen times) before.

“Glad to hear it.”

The group stands together for a few more awkward seconds before Erwin clears his throat and asks his date, “Another drink?” then makes his exit.

“You have got to get over this grudge, dude,” you take your head from his shoulder, and Mike immediately misses the warmth. “Like, it’s cute that you’re trying to defend my honor or whatever, but it’s time to move on. You guys are friends. Just talk it out.”

He sucks his teeth, almost tells you about the way he and Erwin had nearly thrown punches at the ranch house, the way the blond had basically admitted to wanting to try you out, but Mike decides against it, doesn’t want to talk too much shit only to end up making up with him.

“Guys don’t really talk it out. We usually fight it out.”

“That’s fucking primitive. You should learn to communicate like mature humans.”

“Probably,” Mike hums. “But not right now.”

Being connected to each other means every activity is a partner activity. The most interesting is playing beer pong against Nile and his on-again off-again girlfriend, Marie, house rule for the night being whoever is throwing has to use their cuffed hand. It’s like a twisted three-legged race and requires an amount of teamwork and coordination Mike has never had to deal with before.

It’s also the first time he manages to beat Nile. Mike had no doubt that the other man would have crushed you by himself, but it turns out the actual couple does not work together very well. All their shots are clumsy, and Nile gets frustrated right off the bat which only makes things worse. Meanwhile, you and Mike come up with a strategy after the first terrible throw and use it for the rest of the game.

You’re both challenged by a few other teams and end up winning every time which has Mike feeling smug about the victories and giddy at how in-tune the two of you are. Gelgar even tells you both, “You guys are good together,” which makes Mike cough as you wave him off.

You drink a little more, converse a little more, and then—as always—end up in Mike’s bedroom.

“You want me to get the key and take these off?” He asks between kisses.

You smile into him, let out a little laugh and play, “You don’t think it’d be kinda fun to fuck with ‘em on?”

“It’ll be harder,” Mike snorts. “But, we can. Won’t be able to take shirts off, though.”

“Good thing we just need to take our pants off.”

It’s clumsy and silly, and you both tug in opposite directions more than a few times. Mike laces his fingers with yours when he goes down on you, relishing in the way you arch off his bed and squeeze his hand. On the floor, you give him head in the same fashion, and fuck, Mike can hardly focus on you sucking him off while your fingers are woven together, even if it is just for the sake of convenience.

He fucks you from behind that night, your face buried in his pillow as he’s buried in you. Both of your arms are stretched behind your back, held at the wrists by Mike’s much, much larger hand. He uses his free one to grip your hip, pushing and pulling you on his cock to his heart’s desire.

You’re so pretty, damp with sweat and moaning his name when your head is turned only to shove it back into his pillow when he makes you scream. Your dripping cunt opens up for him perfectly, making Mike feel more inebriated than alcohol ever could, but as his balls tighten and that warmth spreads in his gut, he has a single moment of clarity, assess the position he has you in and pants, “Shit, I can’t pull out.” Not without ripping your god damn arm out of socket or fracturing his dick.

“Mmm—fuck, just come inside, come inside me, Mike.”

That alone makes him lose it, shooting a fucking copious amount of cum into your pussy, so much that it drips from your hole and runs down your thighs.

“Fucking C-Christ,” he laughs a little hysterically, gathering thick white and slipping it back inside you. Transfixed by the way his added finger pushes more of his cum out of you, he asks in a daze, “You on birth control?”

“Yeah,” you answer in a breathy voice.

Mike hums. “Good. Just gonna sit here for a while then.”

You let out a whimper that turns to a whine when he rubs his slick finger over your clit. Twitching around him, you tease, “F-finger painting again?”

He chuckles, “You know it.”

Honestly, if he could cover you in cum, he would—admire your body painted in white strings, watch it drip down your ribs and thighs. If Mike hadn’t just gotten off, he would be hard again at the mere thought, but for now his focus is rubbing your little clit. Still face down, you spread your legs more and more, and Mike has to curl over you, breathing heavily on your neck as you wriggle and buck, overstimulating him as he keeps his cock nestled inside of you.

He groans just as loud as you do as you start pulsing around him, pussy clenching in a way that actually pulls a few more drops of cum from Mike, then you both pant for a little while until Mike straightens up and pulls you with him, your back to his chest as you hang your head.

“You good?” He questions, brushing his lips over your neck as lightly as possible.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “Just… Full.”

Mike’s body heats all over again as he rests his forehead on your uppermost vertebrae. “Can’t just say stuff like that,” he warns, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

“Hmm.” He can see the little smile on your face without even looking up. “You did offer to fuck me until I pass out.”

“I have a refractory period, you know.”

You glance over your shoulder, and now Mike gets a good look at your smirk and twinkling eyes. “I can wait.”

Both of you emerge from the room in the early hours of the morning, still stuck together as you quietly make your way downstairs to find the key to the handcuffs. You’re wearing a pair of Mike’s gym shorts, the mesh falling far past your knees and barely staying up around your waist. He knows you’re still messy and can tell by the way you’re walking that you’re sore, but he has every intention of cleaning you up and taking care of all your aches and pains in the shower.

It’s party after god damn party with classes and studying and fucking in between. You have never had this much sex in your life, but you’re not complaining. It takes the edge off, and Mike isn’t the worst company. Far from it, actually. The more you get to know him, the more he falls into what you think is his real personality.

The brash frat boy is a front, you come to find out, a mask to fit in with everyone else, one he wears very well.

But, when it’s just the two of you in his room playing video games or watching TV, he actually relaxes, gets quieter and much more reflective. The pastels and khakis and Hawaiian shirts stay hung up in his closet, both of you lounging in t-shirts and joggers more often than not.

He more or less tutors you in geochemistry, and between that and all the nerd shit in his room, you realize… Mike is kind of extremely smart. And, it’s kind of extremely hot.

“I still don’t understand why you hide it,” you tell him one afternoon as you watch him play Ocarina of Time.

He shrugs, green eyes wide and focused on the screen, gives you the same answer he did last semester when you’d asked a similar question: “People are more interested in other things.”

“So you adopted the obnoxious frat boy persona?”

“I guess. It makes the college experience a lot easier.”

You cock your head to the side, genuinely curious when you ask, “Doesn’t it wear you out? Seems like you’re just an introvert in hiding.”

Mike laughs, pauses the game, and looks at you. “It used to. Some days it still does. But, it’s easier than taking shit from the guys.”

Squinting at him, you mumble, “I will beat up anyone who gives you shit about being a nerd.”

It makes him laugh. Loudly. And, you see a certain curiosity glimmering in his eyes, unasked questions—probably something along the lines of when you started caring and getting protective over him.

You’re not. Not exactly. You just don’t like the idea of anyone giving him a hard time.

“No offense, babe, but I don’t know how much damage you could inflict on anyone. You’re, like, two feet tall.”

You straighten up, chest puffing up as you pull your fists up to your chin and rock back and forth like a Street Fighter character. “You wanna fuckin’ go, Zacharias? I’ll show you how much damage I can inflict.”

He grins in that boyish way that always makes you look away. It’s too cute and too charming and makes you feel too many things.

Mike hangs his long legs over the side of the bed and pulls you on top of him with no problem whatsoever. You’re eye level with him now, heart beating too fast as you hold his shoulders, eyes flicking to his lips.

“We can go if you want. We can do whatever you want.”

He has feelings for you. You know he does, can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the way he fucks you, and you really should cut things off, but… You don’t want to. He’s the most tolerable person you’ve met on campus, much less annoying than Hitch. You have things in common and joke around until you’re both rolling in laughter. And, of course, the sex is incredible.

It’s just casual, you keep telling yourself. Mike is smart enough not to push things. He knows better, knows you’ll just turn him down, and though it’s hard to admit, that wouldn’t just hurt him; it’d hurt you too.

In his lap now, you don’t encourage him to take things further, mostly because you’re still sore from the night before, and he understands that. Instead, you lock your arms around his neck and change the subject to something that’s still bothering you even after several weeks.

“Have you and Erwin made up yet?”

Mike makes a face, answers, “Not exactly.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means we’re talking a little more, but it’s always short conversations and the problem still hasn’t been addressed.”

You let out a little, “Ugh,” then state, “You guys are impossible.”

It really doesn’t make sense that he’s so upset about it, especially since you’ve gotten over it. It was a shitty thing for Erwin to do—walking in like that—but you don’t think it’s anything to end a friendship over.

And, with that thought in mind, you spend the rest of the afternoon devising a plan. It’s not in your nature to meddle, but it seems, in this case, you’re gonna have to.

Mike is in his fancy ecology class when you walk into the Pike house, nodding at everyone in the den as you step further inside. You learned a few months ago that it’s much safer to keep your shoes on, less jarring to step on a sticky floor the first years didn’t do a good job cleaning.

Nile is reclining sideways on the couch with Marie between his legs, an action movie playing on the ridiculously big TV mounted on the wall.

“Is Erwin here?” You ask.

Nile looks at you with a frown, one that’s completely warranted since you’ve literally never asked this before.

“Uh, yeah.” He points up at the ceiling. “In his room.”

“Cool, thanks.”

“You know which one it is?”

Squeezing one eye shut, you’re honest when you tell him, “I think so.”

The way Marie is quick to pipe up, “Second furthest to the left, right next to the bathroom,” is very amusing, especially when Nile clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

You make your way upstairs, following Marie’s directions, then take a deep breath before knocking on Erwin’s door, clueless as to what his lock code might be.

It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Erwin. His eyes widen a bit when he sees you, craning his neck back like he’s shocked that you’re standing outside of his room. That’s fair.

“Uh, hey?”

“Hey,” you greet shortly. “Can we talk for a sec?”

Erwin blinks a few times then steps to the side, murmuring, “Yeah, of course.”

His space is very different from Mike’s, more organized, framed pictures, bed completely made. Even his desk is clean, papers and books all stacked neatly on one side of his open laptop.

“Studying?” You question.

“Yeah. Would you like to sit down?” His voice is deep—not as deep as Mike’s—and always so proper, like he spent his childhood in country clubs (he did).

“Not really,” you answer without any hesitation.

Unsurprisingly, Erwin leans against his desk instead of taking a seat himself, arms on either side, fingers hanging off the edge of the polished wood. It makes the muscles in his forearms become more prominent, veins popping against his skin. You have to give it to him, it’s a good move.

“So, what’s going on?”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you recall what you planned to say—cut to the chase, stay firm, don’t get caught up in any of his tricks.

“You need to make up with Mike.”

Erwin immediately snorts. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

“Half-assed apologies aren’t gonna work, dude. Actually sit down with him and hash things out.”

“Yeeeah,” he drawls. “That didn’t work very well the first time.”

“Maybe try again? You guys are, like, best friends.”

“Levi is my best friend,” Erwin corrects, “And, I’m pretty sure that you’re Mike’s at this point.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he smirks.

You wave him off, getting back to your original point. “At the very least, you guys should make up just because you have to live in the same house.”

Erwin crosses his arms over his chest, blue eyes deviating upward as if he’s thinking hard. You doubt he is.

“So, you’re not mad about what happened?” He asks after a few seconds.

You're blunt when you respond, “It was a shitty thing to do. Wouldn’t advise trying it with anyone else, but honestly, I’m not super surprised you’d pull something like that.”

His facial expression turns to one of true offense, blond eyebrows furrowing enough for a little wrinkle to form between them. “Excuse me?”

You take a step toward him, almost jab a finger in his chest but resist. “No no no. You don’t get to be pissed. You’re the one who fucked up here. I’m just telling you the truth.”

Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself off the desk, standing to his full height to loom over you. It’s obviously an intimidation tactic, one he’s probably used before on many people, and it makes your blood boil.

In a futile attempt to make yourself look bigger, you straighten your spine and tilt your head to look up at him, lips pursed, eyes narrow. You remember what Mike said about you being too small to hurt anyone, but you can be scrappy. You’re not above slapping a face or kneeing someone in the balls.

Erwin peers down at you, jaw setting for a moment as he really studies you, then breaks into an infuriating smile.

“You’re cute, you know that?” He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you swat his hand away.

“Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

This close to him, seeing the way he acts behind closed doors, you wonder how Mike ever even got close with him. They’re so incredibly different. For the last semester and a half, you've only known Erwin as Mike's somewhat obnoxious, spoiled friend. Now, it seems he's showing his true colors.

“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’m feeling pretty great right now.”

Oh, you wanna hit him. You wanna hit him so badly, but honestly, Erwin kind of seems like the type to call the fucking police if you did.

“You don’t have any reason whatsoever to be feeling good.”

He’s still grinning, eyes bright and wide as his pupils dilate.

Are you calling him a predator?

He sure looks like one now, a lion with his sights set on an antelope, and as you stare at him, it dawns on you that this was a bad idea.

“You know what? Nevermind,” you shake your head. “You don’t deserve to be Mike’s friend anyway.”

The laugh that pours from his lips is not at all humorous. His voice drops when he challenges, “You think so?”

You need to leave, need to get out of here before this argument goes any further, but as you make a move toward the closed door, he slides in front of you. You shouldn’t have walked so far into his room.

“Erwin,” you grit through your teeth. “Don’t do this.”

“Just tell me—because I need to know—” he breathes, still staring down at you with that unnerving gaze. “What does Mike have that you like so much?”

Both your hands flex by your sides. There are so many ways to answer this question, all of which will evoke a different response.

But being who you are, you speak before you think, spitting the first thing that comes to mind: "You want me to make you a list, Smith? 'Cause I sure fucking can."

He makes a little circle with his hand, a 'go on' motion, and prompts, "Please, enlighten me."

And, so you do.

"Warmth, sincerity, class, depth, understanding—"

"So, it isn't just about the sex," he cuts you off, sounding more sure than curious.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, tired of these god damn frat boys and their obsession with getting their dicks wet.

"I mean, it started out that way—not that it's any of your business."

"I can give you more, you know. Satisfy you better—"

"Please shut the fuck up," you beg, getting madder by the second. The confidence, the entitlement, is making you sick.

"You don't believe me?" He steps toward you again, and you back up.

"No, I don't." Because how could he? Whether it's stimulating conversation or sex, there's no way Erwin could compare.

And now you realize just how much you appreciate Mike.

Erwin is closing the distance between you, moving slowly but purposefully. "This is how it started with you and him, right? You made him chase you?"

"Get out of my way," you demand, trying to shoulder past him—

And, you should have seen it coming, should have been prepared for the way he grabs you, strong hand closing around your upper arm to pull you to his body. Thick fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back, face tilted up, and all you can really do is shove at his chest with your free hand, growling in your throat as Erwin crushes his lips against yours.

Adrenaline courses through your body. You try to shake the hand on your head, try to jerk your arm from his grip, but he's too fucking strong, and it terrifies you.

Your voice is muffled as you plead, "Er—mmf—shtp—"

You lift your hand higher and manage to hit him just beside his eye with the side of your palm, and it makes him break the "kiss" (you refuse to actually call it that).

He breathes a heavy, "Just let me—"

"No." You push his chest again, and he lets go of your arm. Quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you tell him, "You're a shitty friend and a little fucked in the head, but you're not low enough to force yourself on someone," you pant, shaking with nerves and rage, "So don't."

Hopefully, you're not giving him too much credit. Despite the overflowing fury and fear, you still think there's a little hope for him. Not with you, of course, just in general.

He stares at you, expression changing from confusion to understanding to regret, and before you know it, he's scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering, "Fuck, I'm sorry. You're right I—I got carried away. I've been jealous of Mike and curious and—"

"Why?" You blurt because you do not get it. "Both of you are, like, top athletes and in a fraternity, could get literally anyone you wanted, so what is it? Is it because I'm a nobody? Because you're bored of the sorority girls? Am I the one chick on your list you haven't screwed?"

"I… I don't know. You just—"

"Is it because Mike has a toy he doesn't wanna share?"

"Maybe." Erwin is frowning again, like he's stumped. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. It's honestly a little pathetic.

"Well, pick someone else. I know you have Maddie wrapped around your finger, so take advantage of that or whatever. Just leave me out of it."

Ocean eyes are wide and troubled. He really does look remorseful, but that doesn't change what he just fucking did. God, you're disgusted. And a little hurt.

"Don't ever try that shit on me again—or anyone else—'cause I swear to God, I will break your fucking nose."

"Yeah, okay," he nods.

You go to walk past him again, voice loud and unforgiving when you tell him, "Move," and then you're out of his room, slamming the door, and getting as far from Pike house as possible.

That did not go the way you had planned it to, but you should have been ready for the worst case scenario. That's on you, you guess.

Because Erwin Smith may not be a predator by definition, but he's certainly something—something you want to stay away from.

"Why are you acting weird?" Mike's voice pulls you from your empty head, and you take your eyes off the loose string of your hoodie—his hoodie—and look up at him.

"What are you talking about? 'm not acting weird."

He moves from his place at the edge of his bed and crawls to prop himself up next to you on his pillows.

"Uh, yeah you are. Have been for the past week or so."

He isn't wrong. You've kept to yourself a little more since your "conversation" with Erwin. It had just been so uncomfortable and jarring, and you don't want to tell Mike because you know he'll just get pissed all over again which would be very annoying since he and Erwin finally made up. Just like you wanted them to.

Except now you know Erwin a little better, and you're not sure you want him having any more influence over Mike.

Rubbing your face, you shrug and easily lie, "I've just been tired."

And, of course, Mike is too smart for that.

"Tired? That's the go-to answer for anyone who actually feels shitty."

"I mean, yeah, but I'm actually tired in this case." It isn't a complete lie considering how fucking late he kept you up last night.

Mike hums. "Wanna take a nap before the party?"

The acid in your stomach churns. The party. The one you do not have any desire to go to. The one that will push you over the ledge of annoyance and into the realm of genuine discomfort. You don't want to go. You don't want to hang out. You don't want to see Erwin.

Sliding your legs under the covers, you lay down in Mike's bed, turning on your side so that your back is facing him. You've told him on numerous occasions that you don't have any interest in certain events, but he always talks you into going to them anyway. So, what'll be different this time? You're just gonna end up downstairs huddled in a corner refusing to drink as your eyes scan over everyone, ready to make a quick exit if you have to.

Mike settles in closer behind you, the heat of his chest pouring across your back, and you can feel the pillow dip when he rests his head on it. He waits for a while before letting his arm fall over your waist. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, makes something crawl into your throat, trying to scratch its way out.

"I really don't wanna go tonight," you murmur.

You expect some form of protest, a convincing argument in the form of a well thought out fucking speech while he kisses down the back of your neck, but instead, a low rumble of, "Okay," spills from his mouth, and you hate how it makes you feel—how grateful you are for him.

He's getting to know you. Has gotten to know you after spending so much time together. He can read your ups and downs now, can tell when you're joking or serious, take the hint when you want him with a single look (that one might be the most irritating), but it just goes to show how perceptive he is, how much of himself he's been hiding while in college.

The shallow jock you thought you knew is no comparison for this.

"Spring break's coming up," he speaks into your hair, inhaling deeply and whispering to himself, "Citrus kills me," like you can't hear him.

You pretend not to because it's soft and personal and would probably make him adorably self-conscious, and you can't deal with Mike blushing.

"Yeah, it is. Couple more weeks."

"What're your plans?"

You shrug against him, trying not to get too wrapped up in the way his body feels over yours, longer legs tangling between yours, his draped hand nearly covering your entire stomach, his stubble scratching your neck and cheek.

When did you get this close? When did you decide it was okay to be this intimate? This is what couples do. This is comfort.

And, you didn't think you needed it, but fuck—

"Nothing, really. Go see Mom, I guess."

"Come stay with me," he says quickly. "Just for a few days."

You wriggle to turn on your back and frown up at him as a myriad of questions fill your mind.

Mike takes a deep breath, somehow reading every one of them.

"I know that sounds like a 'come meet my parents' thing, but I promise it's not. I just thought it'd be cool to hang out not at school and not at a party. Plus," he shows a broad grin. "You can meet Scout."

"Mm, tempting," you laugh. "I do like dogs."

"And, you'll love her! She's so sweet and so goofy and—"

"I'll think about it," you stop him.

Mike bites his lip, looking hopeful, but tries to play it off with a, "Okay, cool," then leans down to kiss you as if you've already said yes.

Honestly, you have, just not out loud. He had you at 'hanging out'.

Studying sucks. Midterms suck. Avoiding parties, however, does not suck. Mike still goes to most of them, kind of has to considering they're usually thrown at the PKA house, but sometimes he just shows his face then comes to your dorm. You try to convince him to stay, hang out with his friends, but he usually just shrugs and digs through your stash of movies until he finds something he wants to watch.

It's fine with you, makes passing geochem a lot fucking easier, but it also means little sleep and a perpetual soreness between your legs.

You just… Can't get enough of each other. And, you think that's how it's always been since that first party. Afterward, you had denied him in the courtyard and then broke as soon as he got into your room to get his stupid shirt. Denied him at the bar then broke as soon as he leaned over you at the pool table. Denied him at the after-game party and broke after… Seeing his room? Watching movies? Acting like friends for the first time? Whatever it is, you're always falling into bed together, some kind of unstoppable force against your obviously very movable object.

It's something you think about too much now, always somewhere in the back of your head. At this point, you should probably just be with him, don't know who you're kidding with that lie about focusing on school (your grades have never been better actually), but you're scared. That's really what's been hard to admit to yourself, not the fact that you're attracted to him or the fact that your irritation has bloomed into genuine fondness and admiration. It's that's you're fucking terrified. You can feel it in your bones.

Don't get too attached because people leave. All the time. People let you down. People disappoint.

You don't want Mike to disappoint you, so you won't give him the chance to.

Of course, all of that is easier said than done as you look over at him in the Wrangler, one huge hand pn the wheel as his other arm hangs out of the open window, catching the wind that batters against it like he's trying to push back. You hate it when he does that, too many horror stories of car crashes that end in traumatic amputations, but it's one of Mike's strange simple pleasures, makes him grin as if it's his head hanging out instead. At his core, Mike Zacharias is just a huge fucking puppy dog.

A dubstep song from too long ago is blasting through his speakers, the vibrations hitting you square in the chest as you bounce your leg and bob your head. It's beautiful outside, winter's bite melting away into sunny springtime days. Some of them still bring a chill to the air, but it doesn't matter since you basically live in one of Mike's hoodies, dark green with the school's lacrosse logo stamped in the middle. It's faded and worn out and far too big on you, but it's quite possibly the most comfortable article of clothing you've acquired.

The drive to his parents' house is a good three hours, but between the playlist he's made (stellar, not that you'd admit it), the road games you play, and the road head you give him ("Oh, Jesus Christ, this isn't safe—this isn't safe—fuck—") you make it there in one piece and in good spirits, though you have take a few drinks of the soda you got at the convenience store to wash the residue of cum out of your mouth before meeting his god damn family.

He grabs both your bags from the backseat, slinging them over his shoulders, then starts up the path to a… surprisingly small home. It isn't a shack by any means, but after what you saw of Erwin's stupid ranch house and some of the pictures and stories Nile and Gelgar have subjected you to, you just kind of figured all of them had ridiculous amounts of money.

Then again, you know Mike got a full ride to college with a sports scholarship, and he rarely talks about his family and their lifestyle aside from Scout and little tales from his childhood—trips to the zoo, the one time he rode a dirt bike and broke his collarbone, he and his dad rescuing an injured bunny from the park.

You should've known back then that you'd get in too deep.

The small garden that lines the house is well-kempt and full of blooming flowers, and the porch is home to a wire table and matching chairs with an unsavory gnome sitting on top.

"What in the world…"

Mike doesn't even glance to see what you're looking at, just opens the screen door and informs you, "That's Leonidas," so casually that it makes you snort and push him into his own house.

It opens up to a living room, long couch, recliner, coffee table and all. A TV sits right in the middle of a beige entertainment center, DVDs stacked on one side, blu-ray discs on the other. It smells clean—like the lemon wipes you use in your dorm—but even stronger than that is the smell of food.

"Must already be cooking," Mike muses, then calls out in a different fucking language that has you turning to him in confusion.

Before you can ask about it, a plump woman a couple inches taller than you comes rushing out of what you assume to be the kitchen. Her graying hair is tied into a loose bun, cheeks rosy from the heat, and she's still in her apron and a single oven mitt.

"Miche, γλυκό μου αγόρι!"

She stops in front of him and reaches up to grab his face, peppering it with little kisses and babbling words you do not understand in the slightest.

Mike is laughing, speaking to her in the same fashion, possibly answering questions or defending himself judging by the way he holds his hands up. You think you have an inkling about why when his mother turns to you, puts her hands on your shoulders to look at you, then pulls you into a tight hug.

You squeeze her right back, rocking to and fro as she does, then look up at Mike from the corner of your eyes in a panic.

What do you do, what is happening, what hasn't he told you?

It’s about this time that a large dog runs into the room and actually jumps into Mike’s arms. He grunts as he hoists Scout up, nuzzling into her beautiful coat as she tries to lick his face.

"Mamá, let her get settled first," Mike laughs from where he’s getting attacked. His mother lets go of you, but it’s only for Mike to set the dog back down, and Scout takes the opportunity to sniff and paw at you. “Be nice,” he warns her, pulling you in front of him and pushing you toward the hallway.

That need to snoop around is ever present as you enter his room, but the much more pressing issue is, "You could've prepared me, ya' know. Given me a little heads up that you're…"

"Greek?" He snorts, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. "My last name is Zacharias. That's a pretty good indicator."

"I—..." You pause, pout, then mumble, "I'm not a genealogy expert."

"Obviously not."

He dumps the bags on his bed, a queen size, thank god, because he had told you last week they didn't have a guest room (and had seemed pretty happy about it at the time).

"I'll get mom and dad to speak in English for the next few days."

"I mean," you shake your head. "It's their house. I don't wanna intrude on that. Let 'em do what they're most comfortable with."

He steps over to you, makes his classic move of staring down at you and smoothing his hand over your hair to make you tilt your head up. "That's sweet, but I know they're dying to talk with you, so actually being able to understand what they’re saying is kinda necessary."

Humming, you stand on your tip-toes just as he begins to stoop lower. Before you can meet in a kiss, though, you smirk, "And, just why do they wanna get to know me, Miche? Is that a secret Greek name too?”

He licks his lips, voice husky when he replies, "I've mentioned you a few times--”

“Uh huh,” you smirk, too close for him to actually see.

“And no, I think it’s Hebrew or something.”

You snicker before your mouths meet, breaths grow heavy, and the only time you break apart is so that you can look him in his light eyes and tell him, "By the way, the whole speaking a different language thing you can do?" He grunts, encouraging you to continue. "Very hot."

You feel him smile against you, a self-satisfied, "Yeah?" making you burn against him.

"Yeah."

It's hard to leave the room, but you both know you have to, hoping neither of you look too kiss-swollen when you walk back into the living room, and when Mike's mom is no longer there, he brings you to the kitchen instead.

"Smells good," he tells her, leaning over the stove and taking a whiff of the prepared dish that’s been set on top--stuffed tomatoes and peppers that make your mouth water.

She says something, and Mike lets her finish before asking, "Can we speak in English while she's here? It's kinda hard to add to a conversation when you, like, don't know what's being said."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She immediately gushes, turning to you with a worried look. Her accent is thick and charming, but she doesn't ever stutter, clearly fluent, just more comfortable in her apparently native language. "I just get so caught up when my Miche comes home, I—"

And, she's hugging you again.

"I'm Maia! Christopher—Miche's father—should be home soon."

You rub Maia's back until she lets go and turns back to the stove, but even as she does, she's asking you, "How is school? What are you studying? Miche's told me very few things."

He shouldn't have told you anything at all, you want to say.

"Um, it's good. I'm an earth sciences major, geology specifically, so Mike—uh—Miche's been helping me study a lot."

He leans down to speak so only you can hear, "Not necessary to call me that. She's gonna know who you're talking about when you say Mike."

Not that you'll tell him, but you kind of like the way 'Miche' feels, the way it rolls from your lips to the back of your mouth, and for just one second, you think about how you'd like to moan it in his ear.

"So, uh," you shake your head in an attempt to get it back on straight. "Yeah, it's going good, I think."

"It is nice that you study together," Maia hums, slicing into the dish to portion it out. "Miche probably enjoys the break from his fraternity life."

Mike makes an unsure noise, but you grin and lean on the counter, eyes shining as you look at the middle-aged woman, "You know, speaking of that, I need to know what he was like before the whole frat thing 'cause—"

"Uhh, we don't need to talk about that," Mike quickly cuts you off.

Maia, however, catches your eye and winks, a silent promise that she'll fill you in later.

Mike sees it, whines a dramatic, "Mamá, please."

You laugh, glancing over at him with a devious smile that makes him roll his eyes and grumble something.

The creak of a door opening followed by the sound of a screen slamming back against the frame signals the arrival of Mike's father. It takes him a couple minutes to join everyone in the kitchen, probably taking the time to get more comfortable after what you assume to be a long day.

When he does walk in, once styled hair fallen out of place, top two buttons of his shirt undone, you see exactly where Mike gets most of his looks. He may have gotten his fucking mane from his mother, but he definitely got his height and his eyes from his father.

"Oh!" He stops short when he sees you, looks at his wife, then at you, then at Mike. "Is this the girl?"

"Dad!"

Both of his parents snicker as he turns to you, pleading more than telling, "Just ignore them, they don't know what they're talking about."

You don't pay him any mind, join in on the fun when you lift an eyebrow and tease, "Am I, Mike? Am I the girl?"

"Oh my god, this is gonna be a nightmare," he groans, the tips of his ears growing red. Still, he tries to put on a stern face as he points at his parents, speaks in beautiful, rolling words that are beyond you, then turns his flashing gaze to you and commands, "And you, don't encourage them."

"Mm, no promises." You stick the tip of your tongue between your teeth and wink at his mom the way she had at you earlier.

All of you sit at an actual table for dinner, something you haven't done in at least a decade, as you talk and laugh between bites of food. Scout is laying underneath, waiting for someone to drop a piece of food, and every once in a while, you feel her wet nose nudge against your calf.

Maia and Chris are very kind and very funny, and it isn't just because they pick on their son all the time. Chris talks about his day in the office, complaining about coworkers the same way Mike complains about his brothers—"I just don't understand why you would eat sardines in the break room! Someone explain it to me!" Maia tells everyone about the three hour phone call with her mother—"My god that woman can talk. Every time we said goodbye, she would just start on something new!"

"Explains where you get it from," Chris says with a chuckle.

Maia scoffs then stabs a piece of his food with her fork, eating it with purpose as her husband watches.

You lean over to Mike and murmur, "They're cute. I like 'em."

He grunts. "That makes one of us."

Sucking your teeth, you mimic his mother's actions and dig your fork into the meat of his pepper, stealing a bite and scraping your teeth over the utensil in a way you know drives him crazy.

You immediately regret it when you realize how big the piece is, filling your mouth so that it's hard to chew, and you grab a napkin to cover yourself while Mike snorts and smugly says, "Yeah, bet you feel real smart right now. How does thievery taste?"

Shoving his arm, you manage to swallow down enough of the food to talk and tell him, "Tastes delicious."

When you look back across the table, you find Maia and Chris staring at you and Mike with shining eyes and matching grins.

You get along well with Mike's parents. A little too well in his opinion. There are a couple mornings you wake up earlier than he does and share coffee with his mother. He'll walk in to hear her sharing terrible stories about how, "He was such a sensitive little boy," and, "I miss the days he and his friends would spend afternoons here playing their little games."

She even breaks out the photo albums one evening after dinner, leaving Mike mortified as you laugh and 'aww' at the pictures of past birthdays, Boy Scout outings, and the horrors of middle and high school.

"Look how cute you are with braces!"

"Please stop."

"All dressed up for Easter, oh my god, are those bunny ears?"

"Mom made me."

"You were so skinny. What happened?"

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No, I'm calling you buff. Dummy."

Less embarrassing are the long walks the two of you take with Scout (who also loves you, of course). She stays close to your hip as you wander around the park, only leaving your side when you throw her favorite ball. At the house, she noses at you until you shift to let her lay either at your feet or on the couch with her big head in your lap.

It's the cutest fucking thing Mike has ever seen, and he hates it because he can't do anything about it. He can't tell you how much he likes seeing you walk around in his house. He can't tell you how much joy it brings him to hear your laugh ring out alongside his parents'. He can't tell you how much he loves seeing you slide into his old bed in nothing but one of his shirts, making yourself comfortable against his chest and weaving your legs between his.

He can't tell you, but he can do his best to show you.

Late at night when his parents are asleep, when the buzzing TV is the only thing lighting the room, Mike moves inside of you with deep, slow thrusts. He hikes your legs up to lock around his waist or pulls you up against himself if he's taking you from behind. No matter the position, it leaves you clawing at him, breathing heavily, jaw dropping open in a silent scream.

You feel so good, so tight around him even after he gets you ready for his cock. Your silken walls squeeze and milk him, pulling every drop of cum from him to soak into you. Fuck, he's so glad you're letting him do that now, fill you up until you can't take any more, until white is dribbling from your messy pussy. The way you look at him all fucked out is intoxicating, eyes droopy, smile lazy, body twitching with aftershocks as he sucks on your neck and kisses down your shoulders.

You have to know. You have to. Mike knows his feelings are written all over his face when he looks at you, may as well be carved into his skin. The words are on the tip of his tongue every night, but he muffles them with kisses, with burying his face between your legs, with sinking his teeth into your soft flesh.

He can't say it because saying it makes it real. Saying it will make it hurt more.

So Mike keeps his mouth shut, watches you every day as you converse with his parents and play with Scout. You poke around his bedroom in your usual nosy fashion, finding the rest of his Magic cards, old D&D books and privacy screens. The dusty record player he'd inherited from his grandfather interests you above all else, vinyls stacked around it, some old, some new, and as you flip through them now, cross-legged on the floor and swimming in his hoodie, you tell him the little things you talked about with his mom earlier in the day.

"She showed me your baby teeth," you say with a snort. "Why do parents keep those? My mom did too."

"Black Magic, obviously," Mike says seriously, but when you glance up at him, he chuckles. "I don't know, babe. It's fuckin' weird, though."

You grin and look back down at The Alan Parsons Project vinyl in your lap. You're quiet for a moment, but when you do speak up, it's in a quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure they think I'm your girlfriend."

Mike cringes on the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, that's probably 'cause I told them you were."

"What?" You turn your whole body to face him, eyes wide and incredulous.

Sitting up, Mike holds his hands out and questions, "What was I supposed to tell them? Hey, mom and dad, I'm bringing home this girl I fuck at school all the time."

"We don't just fuck," you scoff. "You could've said friend or… Study buddy."

"Study buddies with benefits," he lets out a humorless laugh. "How many of those study sessions end with your mouth around my cock?"

"That's beside the point." You stand up and walk over to the bed, hands on your hips as you glare at him in an unconvincing manner. You're not actually upset, Mike realizes. A little annoyed maybe but more surprised than anything. "The point is they expect us to do couple-y things."

"We do do couple-y things." Mike reminds you, rolling his eyes when you snicker and murmur 'ha, do do'. "Oh my god, you're a dork."

"So are you. And, a dumb one. What happens when they find out we're not actually together? Are we gonna have to stage a break up somewhere down the line?"

"Stop worrying about it," Mike tries, reaching out for one of your arms to pull you on top of him. You must be very used to straddling him at this point. It seems like you're in his lap more often than you're not these days, even if the two of you are just talking. "Just chill and fake it for a little while longer."

You pout, glancing to the wall for a second before you mutter, "Might be tough. I've never had to fake anything for you before."

Mike groans and traces his fingers up your sides, stopping at your shoulders and using them to guide you closer to him. With your face only millimeters from his, he barely even has to whisper when he presses, "Fake it just this once."

You nod, lips brushing his, and from there you both devolve into sloppy kisses and desperate hands. As always.

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #snk x reader #mels prima vista

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illogicalthinking · 3 years

Text

The Burn Within

warnings: Some NSFW language (Remus), blood/ bruises mention, hurt no comfort and self hatred

word count: 1883

authors note: for this fic i used a prompt by @just-another-ts-prompt-blog which can be found: here

hope you enjoy!

Whilst the ‘light’ and ‘dark’ sides preferred to keep their distance from each other, they had to share certain parts of Thomas’s mind. For example, they shared a common area, and the imagination was split into two separate realms, much like Roman and Remus: Whilst one contained multiple castles and kingdoms living in harmony with each other, the other was a prison of living nightmares.

However, this arrangement did not bring them any closer to each other. The light sides tried to avoid the dark sides at all costs. Remus often played pranks on the others such as swapping the sugar out for salt, spiking drinks with inedible products, and stealing utensils.

This made meal times extremely difficult to control: Virgil would hiss and hide, Patton would try and fail to diffuse the situation, Janus would watch in entertainment and Roman was never around to witness. The only side that could keep the sides from murdering each other was Logan.

Today seemed like one of those days.

“Virgil could you please come down from there, Remus did not do anything” Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was far too early for this, Logan muttered to himself whilst taking a large sip of coffee from his “worlds best mum” mug.

“He walked in whilst we were making coffee, that’s more than enough reason to hide. What if he put baby powder in my drink again? I’m going to die because of him!” Virgil hissed from his place on the top of the fridge, hoodie covering his frantic eyes.

Virgil had been more paranoid than usual after the recent video. He had fallen back into his old habit of hissing at the other sides when stressed. It concerned Patton greatly.

“Oh please sunshine, there is a higher chance of me fucking a woman with 3 arms than there is me spiking your drink again, I just walked in!” Remus exclaimed as he passed Virgil on the fridge to the dining table.

“Whilst Remus vocalized his argument in a very unprofessional manner, he is right, we have been awake for approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes whereas, by the looks of it, Remus has only been awake for around 10 minutes.” Logan made sure to maintain eye contact with Virgil whilst voicing his opinion to ensure Virgil knows he’s telling the truth. “There is nothing to worry about Virgil, you are safe”

“Thanks, L”

“You're welcome, now please come down from there, it is very dangerous to be sitting in places you are not supposed to be sitting”

After the incident this morning between Virgil and Remus, Logan remained seated in the common room, his back straight against the recliner with his laptop placed on his lap. He was researching content for a Sanders side video they will be filming in the evening. He did not do this in his room due to not wanting another incident like this morning. Logan is the only side that is willing to deal with the incidents, while the other sides (particularly Janus and Roman) are too impatient and often make the situation worse.

Throughout the whole day, Logan continued to research the link between intrusive thoughts and depression. Thomas had recently been showing signs of this mental illness and Logan wanted to bring it up to him via a video. However, there was a small issue, Logan would have to have all the other sides present including Janus and Remus. He needed Janus because Thomas listened to him more than Logan (much to the latter's dismay) and Remus represented intrusive thoughts. It would only be fair to have Remus take part in a discussion about him, even if the light sides had a problem with this.

Happy with his research, Logan snapped his laptop shut. Due to none of the other sides entering the common room after this morning's incident, Logan concluded it was safe to retreat into his room because he was not needed to split up another argument yet.

To Logan's annoyance, it was time to film the video for Thomas' youtube channel. After the events of putting others first, Logan had started to dread taking part in videos. This was because Janus proved he could take his role as logic, and remain loved and respected whilst providing the necessary information Thomas needed.

“Enough of the self-loathing, Logan, now is not the time,” Logan muttered to himself as he sank down into Thomas’s living room. This evening is going to be a long one for all of the sides, especially Logan.

Logan didn’t know how much longer he could handle the arguing.

None of the other sides were listening to his facts or solutions, too busy pinning the blame on each other for Thomas’s current problem. Roman and Remus were currently swords to mace, about to start a physical fight, Janus remained by Patton’s side trying and failing to calm him down before he turned back into a frog and Virgil remained curled up on his side, his hoodie covered the majority of him but Logan could still see him shaking.

Something had to shut them up.

I will shut them up, Logan thought to himself. Logan became alarmed by the sudden aggressive thoughts. He may have a short fuse but he wasn’t usually aggressive, not without guilt eating away at him. However, this time Logan had no guilt attached to this thought and he shivered at the realisation.

This time was different he reminded himself and with that thought, Logan snapped

“Will you all shut up and listen to what I have to say for once!” Logan all but screamed at the top of his lungs, ensuring he was heard over the arguing.

The silence that came after was enough evidence for logan to continue:

“People who suffer from depression often get stuck with a single or even several intrusive thoughts that arise frequently. These types of repetitive intrusive thoughts are known as 'rumination'.”

“The whole point of me organising this stupid video was to bring this statement to Thomas’ attention and guide him with the help of Janus to seek professional help. You all arguing like a group of immature school children was not part of the script, now if you would excuse me I am going to make myself useful for once and leave” Logan huffed, glad to get that out of his system. Even after snapping, the guilt never choked him like it usually would, which disturbed him greatly.

“Logan, wait!” Virgil pleaded, but it was too late.

“I said I was leaving, now fuck off and leave me alone” Logan hissed at him, the guilt still not reaching him.

Happy with this statement. Logan sunk out of the living room back to his room, leaving six shocked and petrified individuals behind.

“What just happened?” Thomas said to nobody in particular.

“I do not know but it’s best to leave him alone, let’s just get this shit show over and done with” Virgil muttered, far too anxious about Logan to care about the video.

Logan what happened to you. Virgil thought.

When Logan rose up into his bedroom he could not hold it in anymore. All of the pent-up frustration from being ignored for months became too much for the logical side, causing him to slam his fists into the nearest wall. However, without realizing it, Logan’s fist struck a family photo of all the sides surrounding a very happy Thomas.

For some reason seeing the shattered photo frame on the floor and the glass sticking out of his broken skin caused something within him to break.

For the first time in months, Logan allowed himself to cry out all of his frustrations.

After what seemed like hours, Logan finally got up from his place on his bed. He noted that his eyes were swollen and his hand was covered in dry blood and bruises. He did not want to get up and clean his mistake, but he knew he had to because the others would ask questions and he did not want that. Logan did not want the other side’s sympathy. It was a little too late for them and Thomas to care about him but he had to stay because Thomas needed him. They needed him.

“Do they need you though, Logan? Come on, you’re just as useful as me right now and you know it.” A harsh voice sneered into the cold room. Logan immediately knew who it was.

“Be quiet Orange, no matter how much Thomas tries to push me aside, I won’t leave because I am his logic, and Thomas needs his logical side.

“Come on Logan deep down you know I am right, let me prove it to you”

“Let’s just say you were correct in your hypothesis, what happens after that?” Logan sneered. He was far too exhausted to deal with this right now, and he just wanted to sleep.

“Let me show you”

“If I trusted you I would be breaking trust with the others and Thomas and I cannot do that. Thomas’s welfare is my number one priority and I cannot cause any harm to them, no matter how much they have hurt me”

“Oh please Logan, Thomas has not given a shit about you since the beginning. Where is your video, Logan? All the other sides have an episode focused on them, even Remus! And Thomas hates the guy! Do something for yourself for once in your life and listen to me, I can make them listen to you but you have to trust me,” Orange whispered to Logan. Logan knew deep down that what orange was saying was correct, he did not just want to admit it to himself. Until now, that is.

“Fine, what do you have in mind?”

It has been approximately one hour since Logan had sunk out of the video, and Janus was getting worried. No matter how much he tried to get a hand on Logan and summon, he couldn’t. Logan was unreachable

The twins were arguing and Patton and Janus couldn't find a middle ground. Finally, they summoned Logan, needing an impartial side. But when he appears, something is different.

He was wearing a long-sleeve dress shirt, much fancier than usual. He had streaked eyeliner and his glasses were different. He was not wearing a tie.

“Logan? What happened?” Thomas asked, hesitant like he almost doesn’t want to know.

Patton had his hand to his mouth. He spoke up after a moment, “Logan, you look like… like a dark side. What did you do?”

Logan’s voice was quiet and soft like if he spoke too loud he might break. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t try to do this, I-” he cut himself off, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I have become obsolete.” His voice broke on the last word and he clamped his mouth shut.

“No, Logan!” Thomas immediately disagreed. “We need Logic!”

Logan nodded, eyes still trained on the floor. “Yes, you do need logic. But . . . you don’t want me”

And with that, Logan sank out for the second time that night, leaving nothing but a cloud of smoke that soon vanished, just like he did.

The others could not do anything but feel the burn within.

What had they done?

#logan angst #logan sanders angst #logan sanders #Janus Sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #character!thomas #sanders sides

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suneatersupportsquad · 3 years

Text

red handed; colby brock

request: im not sure if you do requests or even any imagines for colby brock anymore but i was wondering if you cold make a exception, so basically the plot is that the reader met colby through kat and since then they hit it off, now their in a secretive relationship the only person who knows is kat but she only knows the reader has a crush on colby. one day everyones hanging out in the same room room and colby is sexting the reader, sams curious to whos hes texting and they find out their dating.

dedication: @whydontweanons

genre: fluff, subtle smut?

pairing: colby brock x gn!reader

characters: colby brock, sam golbach, katrina stuart, corey scherer, jake webber, kevin langue, brennen taylor, devyn lundy, tara yummy

word count: 1.8k

warnings: alcohol, what would probably be underage drinking, NSFW (barely), sexting (duh), mentions of COVID-19, quarantine

a/n: of course i’ll still write for sam and colby!! it’s just that, since i’m not as active of a follower of them as i used to be, my goal is to write for fandoms that i’m more invested in at the moment. but, honestly, i don’t think i could ever really stop writing for them. i love those boys so much. also this plot made me laugh so hard when i saw it in the best way possible. getting this request honestly made my day, so thank you for that!! anyways, i’m a little rusty, but here we go.

important links: masterlist

find more fics at my new blog @trapboysbunny

You and Colby had known each other for a long time - pretty much since he’d moved to LA with Sam - and you had been involved romantically just as long. You had met him and Sam through Kat on a boring Saturday night when all their friends flaked on coming to a little kickback they were hosting. Trying to be a good friend and cheer the boys up, Katrina had invited you to hopefully kickstart some emotional momentum. Your eyes met Colby’s for the first time and you clicked. Something in your gut had told you that the two of you would end up being close, and it was right. You had hit it off immediately, not taking very long to start laughing at one another’s corny jokes and telling stories over Smirnoff Ice while some random late night show played in the background. From that night on, it was history.

Since then, you two had been practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t sitting on the same room or facetiming, you were definitely texting one another. It became a running joke in your friend group that you two had evolved into a pair of siamese twins, or that being without you gave Colby separation anxiety. The two of you found it even more amusing when you actually began dating, not long after that fateful first night. It amazed the both of you that you were able to hide your relationship so well. No one had a clue. The two of you laughed about it quite often, actually, over late night phone calls and tipsy afternoons spent only with each other. No one knew, and nobody needed to know.

Colby, due to the internet and his fanbase being the way it is, preferred to keep his personal (and especially romantic) relationships more on the private side. His intent wasn’t necessarily to hide his feelings and relationship with you from his friends, but that particular topic of conversation never really came up in your friend group. Everyone had just kind of figured that everyone single would simply date someone when they were ready and tell everybody about it when they felt the time was appropriate. It wasn’t that Colby didn’t want to tell them, he just didn’t see the point in going out of his way to tell all of his friends hey after God knows how long I finally have a partner. He just didn’t want to make a big deal out of your relationship. Knowing his friends, they would definitely make it into some type of big thing, not to mention that Jake would dub the occasion as “cause for celebration” (which was really just an excuse to drink more). So Colby preferred to keep things on the quieter side for you two; neither of you wanted to make your relationship into an object for speculation.

Kat was the only person out of all of your friends to have any knowledge of your feelings for Colby. And thank God for her; if you didn’t have her to gush about Colby to, you probably would have either exploded or died. Or both. And she was there for every single second of it. She loved hearing about your movie nights, your urban exploring adventures, the sweet yet mundane things he would do to make you happy, literally anything. She ate that shit up like a man starved, and you did the same for her and Sam (regardless of the fact that their relationship was public already). You hadn’t told her explicitly about the nature of your relationship with Colby, really just gushed about your ever-growing love for the boy. Unbeknownst to you, she firmly believed that you only had feelings for Colby, clueless to the fact that the two of you had actually been dating for quite a while now. With her “go get ‘em, tiger” comments, along with similar remarks, you assumed that she had some sort of idea about your relationship with Cole, hence why you had never explicitly told her about your secret boyfriend. Kat, being the good friend that she was, never spilled your “secret” feelings to anyone else. Not even her boyfriend.

Eventually, quarantine started up amidst the international COVID-19 pandemic and you had begun practically living with the trap boys. A day without you in the house was enough to prompt concern for the boys, minus Colby who always knew the real reason why you weren’t coming over. This soon became the new normal, you taking a “day off” every few weeks to get tested just in case. At this point, it was almost comical that no one had figured out you two were dating yet.

One particular weekend afternoon, everyone in your friend group was hanging out at the house. You and Colby were sitting on opposite sides of the room, you next to Kat and Colby seated beside Sam. It was particularly warm today seeing as this Saturday landed smack in the middle of the infamous August heat wave, so you had thrown on a tank top and some shorts, nothing to flashy. Colby had dressed similarly, wearing only a muscle tee and a pair of trunks.

You were sat beside Kat, the both of you trying to listen to the story Devyn was telling. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore the way your boyfriend was staring at you from across the room. You looked away from Dev for just a second to shoot him a glare when you realize exactly why he’s looking at you. The speed at which the blood rushes to your face is dizzying, and you drop your head to stare at your lap. Motherfucker- You sigh as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “Quit it with the blowjob eyes asshole,” you type before pressing the blue send button.

You feel his gaze break as his phone vibrates. Trying to ignore him, you refuse to meet his gaze again, putting all of your effort into focusing on Devyn’s story. Seconds later your phone vibrates in your pocket. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the screen reads, and you shake your head.

“Uh huh sure ok.” You pressed send again.

Another few seconds passed and your phone vibrated again. “That shirt looks really good on you.”

You blushed as you read the message, flustered by the comment. Brows knitting together in confusion, you looked up to find him staring back at you with a dopey grin. You hunched over your phone and sent a message back. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Colby replied, a gray typing bubble sitting under the message. “But you know how it would look cuter?”

You cocked your head to the side and typed out your response. “How?”

“On my bedroom floor.” You almost snorted at that, clamping a hand over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping. Typical. Thankfully no one had been paying enough attention to you to notice that you were distracted.

Colby, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. “Give me this, dude,” Sam said, snatching the phone out of Colby’s hand and effectively bringing the conversation on their side of the room to a halt. “You haven’t been listening for like the past 20 minutes, dude. Now let’s see what’s got you so distracted.”

“You don’t need to look at that, Sam, it’s not that important-” The tall brunette sounded slightly panicky as he reached and grappled with Sam for his phone. Sam played around for a little bit before finally reading the screen, eyes widening in amusement.

Upon finishing his reading, Sam lowered the phone and Colby relaxed, already knowing that he was caught. “So who’s ‘angelcakes,’ huh Colbert?” Sam prodded teasingly.

Colby blushed ever so slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re just a friend-”

“Which friend, huh?” Sam continued his teasing, growing louder and louder with every response until all eyes were on the two boys.

Colby shrugged, trying to be nonchalant but looking more stressed than ever in actuality. “Just a friend.”

“What do you say we call this friend, huh boys?” Sam suggested.

Kevin nodded, agreeing. “I think we definitely should.” Brennen also nodded when Sam looked to him for approval, essentially finalizing the decision.

“Okay then, let’s do this thing!” Sam yelled, earning cheers from all the other curious folks in the room. The blonde boy pressed call and Colby simply held his face in his hands.

You jumped when your phone rang, honestly having forgotten that oh shit, I’m angelcakes. Everyone turned to look at you curiously, Colby even peeking through his fingers. You didn’t even pick up the device, already knowing whose name would be lighting up the screen. “You gonna pick that up or something?” Corey asked awkwardly.

You shook your head, leaving your phone face down in its spot beside your thigh. “No, it’s probably not important anyways.”

A beat of heavy silence passed before Tara spoke. “Gee, they sure aren’t giving up. Maybe you should answer it.”

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just-”

“Yeah, you should answer the phone, Y/N,” Jake agreed, the pieces seeming to click in his head.

You sighed, burning bright red to the tips of your ears. “Okay okay, fine.” You stood and clicked the answer button. “Hello?”

And there it was, your voice echoing from Colby’s phone. The room erupted in cheers of disbelief, the boys pouncing on Colby and the girls slapping you in playful excitement. “I knew there was something going on between you two!! There’s no way there couldn’t have been -- I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Kat squealed, smushing you in a hug.

The rest of the girls echoed the sentiment, a chorus of ‘same’s and ‘I can’t believe you’s. It took a while for everyone to calm down but, once everyone settled, you and Cole managed to get some alone time. The two of you escaped out back, the less than mediocre breeze cooling the sweat that slicked your skin. You held each other, almost as though you were about to start slow dancing. “Damn, caught red handed, huh?”

You laughed breathily, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. “It was only a matter of time, ya know?”

“I know,” he agreed, cheek pressing against your hair. “I’m glad we don’t have to be weird around them anymore.”

“Me too,” you hummed.

Colby pulled away a little bit, just enough for him to look you in the eyes, your arms still around his neck. “Hey.”

You giggled, confused. “Hey.”

“I love you.”

You smiled your confirmation, eyes twinkling under the cheap backyard lights. “I love you.”

#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #fanfiction #the trap house #bug.oneshots

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stickynotestoletters · 3 years

Text

Yandere BNHA Boys pt 2

Okay, this is a continuation of the first yandere ones I did because I wrote that in basically a night and was too tired to do more, I'm probably gonna post some after for the pro heroes and villains if I have time, I might finish those on the weekend then post it.

This is just a bunch of headcanons I have about the boys in BNHA and what they’d be like as yanderes. Only the really fluffy or good things about them listed here. Neither of these works are a good depictions of a real yandere and make sure to be careful to identify yandere traits in real people around you. It’s a very dangerous world and stay safe!

sorry if you were waiting for me to come out with these and I literally took forever lol, link to the first one is here. It's basically just me comforting myself with the sweet things that I think they would do as yanderes.

Warnings: Brainwashing, blood, gore, death, trans headcanons, body dysmorphia, nonbinary they/he Sero, they/them pronouns + nonbinary headcanons for Tokoyami, he/they nonbinary headcanons with Shinsou, a little NSFW because if I don't specify then they are aged up (around 20-25 is where I imagine the timeline that they actually captured you and have a hero carrier going for them already), manipulation, regular yandere things, kinda just turns into dumbass horknee headcanons at some point after Shinsou (sorry lmfao), objectification

Sero Hanata

so basically the first time they saw you they immediately wanted to come up to you

they love to give you back hugs because once you stop trying to fight them he's gonna be so honored you finally trust him

Big time slut [non-derogetory] for you

Likes to have an apartment that's high up, probably a secured penthouse with lots of windows

If you're afraid of heights they will get a ground bed for you two, they would also vibe with a low hanging hammock if you allow it

they really really like just putting you on a custom made leash, not inherently in a sexual way just in general likes to have it look like that with their tape on you at all times

they really really like it when you come to them for hugs and comfort

If you're a trans reader, if you want a binder he will get you one as soon as you ask, cried when you told him about it.

they cried way more than you though...

Was very accepting as an nb person as well

they custom made you a tape binder of his

Kinda as a joke but high key felt like they were gonna combust at the thought of you wearing that for them

Takes you to pride but you cannot speak

only takes you to pride after they are 1000% sure that you're not gonna speak to anyone but them

Takes you to it as a part of their float because they'd been invited onto the Hero Float

You are in a costume that's exactly like his, helmet and everything, you aren't allowed to be looked at

After that though, it's gonna be your choice to go or not to go

they trust you a little more after you run away from some assholes though and after that sometimes lets you take your helmet off during pride, you have to give them a lot of kisses though

When/if you ever consider any type of surgery he is 110% on board

they demand that you have to have it performed by someone who has done this a million times before, trusts no one else

If there's a way for you to go through it without the surgery they're excited but he's more excited if there is surgery because they love the idea of you being so cuddly and clinging to them for their comfort

Tokoyami Fumikage

haha they're in love with you

like, intensely in love with you the moment they first meet you

Dark shadow thinks you're adorable but says nothing more about their obsession with you

when you met them before UA they absolutely cannot handle being around you in a 10-foot radius

Eventually, though they do try and become a friend of yours

After that, it's a hop on the manipulation train, my dude

they basically make you see them as your savior from a mean uncaring world

they love talking to you about things that make you happy and loving you in little ways

hugs, hand holding, a lot of time it's just a little peck (haha) on the cheek

they love living with you though, like really love it

they like baking and making dinner for you

but especially baking

like really, baking

the manipulation they use makes it seem like everything is okay when you only talk to them so that's what you do and to you, it seems so much better than anything you could do

they haven't come out to you by the time you come out to them so your trans journey really helps them figure things like that out as well

The first time you explain that gender is a made-up construct they're like "yeah......isn't that how everyone feels? Like, not a gender????" we love this for them

you both kind of heal each other through this process

they like seeing you when you're most comfortable so they get you as many binders as you need

also gets you a custom binder like Sero but with feather designs, not like stupid printable patterns but something that is soft and the softness isn't feathers it's regular fluffy cloth

idk I'm not a designer that's why I gave up and became a writer lmao

they also get you a compression corset because they're emo

if there is surgery it takes a lot of time to convince them

they don't ever want you to regret anything they helped you with so it takes a lot of long-winded conversations about it

there was a lot of nervousness on their part because (this is just my headcanon) they were almost convinced to get surgery to construct their face to look human-like

they had a lot of their family tell them that, because of the way they looked, they had less of a chance to become a hero, they were immensely traumatized by this and thus wants to make absolutely sure you were okay with this

but when they finally find themself comforted by you about it it happens quickly and in the safest way you could possibly imagine

Shinso Hitoshi

Shinsou didn't want to approach you at all, he was so scared you'd run away or tell him he's a villain

they always thought that they weren't good enough for you

he loved you but you needed to say hi first

and you did

so he whisked you away

they like to just brainwash you into tasting certain types of food when you're craving them instead of just getting you food

he likes to talk to you in a voice like he would talk to a kitten, not like husky or anything sexy, but something cute and adorable

especially when you're brainwashed and can't say anything to him

He likes to give you lots of soft stuff like I'm talking pillows upon pillows and squishmallows

once he gets his own house they get it in a place that's more comforting in the dark than in the light

they really like the dark and outdoorsy vibe anyway so if they choose a place somewhere in the forest to keep you what's the added bonus if no one can hear you scream?

a little bit of spice; he has this whole a/b/o fantasy (idk it's his vibes that he'd read that fanfic and stuff lmao) and kinda treats you like you were an omega

sometimes if you guys do have sex they'll brainwash you to act like an omega or once he's more experienced with bodily manipulation involving their quirk they'll make you do all of the......omega things

when you come out to them, if you're trans, they're definitely gonna not care

like if you need comfort and stuff about it they will not make a big deal about it

he legit is like "okay .....can I still fuck you or?????"

HE JUST GIVES OFF REALLY HORKNEE VIBES OKAY?????

definitely brainwashes you into not feeling dysphoric anymore though

like loves it when you come up all sad to him and uncomfy just to ask them to brainwash you

he melts over you cuddling them after those times though

if you want surgery they're gonna make sure that it's between him and the doctors that y'all are there

like no one knows you're there, completely off radius, in and out like nothing (he's basically a cryptid in the woods by the time you guys have the surgery, so they wanna make sure no one questions it)

Monoma Neito

bold of you to assume that man can express literally anything when he wants to just sit you on his lap and look at your pretty face

love at first sight taken literally but not in a shallow way

he loves just having you around him

kinda treats you as an accessory at times, talks like you're a purse or something and people don't really comment but it's really freaking them out sometimes when you don't speak up on it

likes to say he's the only one to understand you cause he's afraid you'd leave him

a hardcore fan of collars though

definitely has lots of jewelry that represents him even though you don't go out he still loves the idea of it

big time cook

loves providing for you, never lets you do a damn thing other than watching pre-approved cartoons and hobbies

absolute fucking disaster about hugging you

always has to be touching you

he thinks you're so fucking gorgeous and body worships you even out of the bedroom

if you're trans he will definitely be weird about it at first

he's just diet transphobic

he's not denying it but sometimes he's like "Are you sure???" and stuff

he clears this up with the help of you being pissed enough to not eat or talk to him until he apologizes

he then educates himself on it and comes to the conclusion that he was in fact being an asshole

talks to you about binders and stuff like that

doesn't really believe in surgery, he would never allow you to do that just because it would be too painful for him to see you go through

he instead literally searches the whole fucking globe for a person with a body-altering quirk to make sure you don't get hurt

he seeks out homophobes, transphobes, and other dumbasses on the regular just to kill them like literally it just started out for your approval but now it's just for fun

Anyway, the villain one (if I do it) will probably become just horknee brain rot cause I am a slut. Request some stuff and I'll try to put up some works if y'all want ig.

125 notes · View notes

notnctu · 4 years

Text

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !! details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him. warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness ; @lovelycharm05 ; @watermelonxes ; @jaehyunsjasmine ; @mjlkau <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking.

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic.

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

#nct-writers #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct #renjun #renjun scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream #huang renjun #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream imagines #huang renjun scenarios #7days

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retrievablememories · 3 years

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afterdeath | lucas

title: afterdeath pairing: vampire!lucas x fairy!reader genre: angst, forbidden romance, fantasy, vampire!au request: May I request a Vampire!Lucas with a fairy!s/o (Forbidden romance perhaps?) word count: 8.6k warnings: descriptions of death and sickness, mentions of a funeral, viewing, and funerary preparations, major character death (but...with a slight twist), mentions of blood and drinking blood, smoking cigarettes, arguments/conflict, mentions of physical violence, some romeo and juliet elements? a/n: hmm this fic probably could’ve been more detailed but i was trying to avoid triggering my own damn self with so much talk of death...ha...not sure why i went this route but i wanted a forbidden romance with an actual decent ending for both characters and this was the first idea i had recommended songs: OLLA - jhené aiko

Year 1508

“We’ve felled the demon!”

“Indeed, we have!”

Cheers ring through the dawn as a large group of fairies dance around an immense bonfire, raising their shouts of celebration to the sky. Within the fire burns the body of the Primitiva Vampire, the One and Only Pureblood, haphazardly thrown over the wood pile and relieved of her head—which sits near the bottom of the burning mass of wood, her face still twisted in a mien of anger.

As the sky begins turning lighter with the onset of sunrise, the fairies continue their celebration, staying close to the fire all the while. They carry large flaming torches to guard against any of the Primitiva Vampire’s followers who might try to sneak upon them and strike in that sliver of space where the sun has yet to rise.

The Primitiva Vampire had a long reign of terrorizing fairies and turning humans and other supernatural creatures into vampires. Each transformed being became a terrible revenant, one which viciously hunted villages and stole into people’s homes for more blood, more death, and more unwilling adherents to the vampiric cult.

Mass numbers of fairies had been decimated once the vampires first tasted their blood and took a unique liking to it. For over 200 years, the carnage continued on at the hand of the Primitiva Vampire, who had one day blinked into existence in a way that could never really be explained by any conceivable means, either human or magic. And without ever giving a hint to her strange conception, she tore across cities and towns, converting others into night creatures like herself and building a loyal following of half-bedeviled beings.

When fairy populations had dwindled to nearly extinction-level quantities, they were left no other choice—fight back or be wiped completely from the universe’s ledger. So they took up arms, honed their magic skills, and did just that.

And now, all their efforts culminate in this blood-stained morning. It marks a much-anticipated moment of revelry before they have to return to their posts to watch for the night creatures inevitably waiting on the other side of the sunset, ready to avenge their slain Goddess.

Present Day

“You probably shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I wanted to come,” Lucas replies, taking your hand is his large one. “I wanted to see you.”

“I can figure that.” You laugh quietly, a little afraid to let your voice rise higher in case it carries too far. “But that doesn’t mean you should’ve come.”

Lucas holds your hand tightly. His skin is cold against yours due to his slow blood, and colder still from the chill permeating the air. It’s only one of many vampiric traits that the other fairies would think of as strange or barbaric, but you don’t see it that way. The chilliness just reminds you solely of him.

“Well, I missed you. And I’m here now, so you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The building you’re standing behind is damp, old, and dilapidated, and it’s not even one of your pre-designated meeting places. In front of you is a rusted chain link fence, which barricades a field of tall and unkempt grass. More aged and crumbling buildings scatter themselves across the distance, taken over by grass and climbing vines.

You don’t know what’s out here. This is one place within your district you haven’t been to before. It was Lucas’s idea to come here, after your last meeting place had nearly been discovered and he found it too risky to keep going there.

The entire city of Beijing is split up into different districts, each belonging to a different faction of supernatural beings. Some nonhuman races have close ties with each other and allow frequent cross-district mingling; others are sworn enemies, forbidden to fraternize with each other under pain of death. In these latter cases, crossing into another’s territory without express permission—or in rare situations, ties to a powerful ally (or allies) on the other side—is asking to get arrested, injured, or worse.

Lucas would be your tie to the vampire side and you his tie to the fairy side if your species weren’t centuries-long enemies. Instead, you’re relegated to having him sneak in and out of your district and hide what he is with blood-scent blockers and eye contacts to make the trickery easier to get away with. There’s only so much you can do to disguise your fae nature; stepping into vampire territory would turn you into a shining beacon.

“Hmm…” you sigh, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. You grasp Lucas’s hand so you’re now holding it with both of yours. “How long do you think we can keep this up? Going from place to place like this. Hiding like criminals.”

Lucas gives a lopsided grin—one that cannot morph into a full smile because of the sadness coloring it. “I don’t know. Forever, if we’re lucky.” He chuckles.

You stare at your intertwined hands, unaware of the sheer intensity of the longing expression on your face, though Lucas sees it clearly. It threatens to burn his heart to ash. “Unfortunately, fae don’t live forever like you do, so maybe not. Besides, your people would probably find out and come after me before we could even settle into a ‘forever.’”

He shakes his head fretfully at your words, squeezing your hand. “Do we have to talk about all that now? You know we don’t have much time together. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.” Lucas pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder.

“That’s fine by me,” you say, and resist the urge to make some dark joke about how scandalous it is for a fairy to have their neck so close to a vampire’s mouth—or a vampire’s anything.

You both stay together in that dingy and old spot for a while, talking in the dark until he tells you he has to go. He follows you the whole way back home to ensure you’re safe, keeping to the shadows until he sees you disappear past your front door. Then, he slips away again to head back to the familiar manor in his own district.

It’s nearly morning when Lucas gets back to the large house he shares with the other six men. By this time of day, he knows they will either be in bed or getting ready to turn in.

“Still visiting that fairy, I see.”

The unexpected voice doesn’t scare Lucas, but it does make his body tense up a bit in irritation and a slight sense of anticipation. He sighs and stops in his tracks on the way to his room, though he doesn’t face the clan leader just yet.

“Is that a problem? Because you know I’m not going to stop.”

Kun makes a noise of disbelief. “Of course it is. You know what the consequences are if anyone outside of us finds out.” Lucas turns to him slightly, and the look on Kun’s face is more disappointment—maybe even slight fear?—than anger. “I clearly can’t stop you from doing what you want to, but I can’t help you if the Association gets involved.”

Lucas rocks back on his heels and sighs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the vampire organization. “Fuck the Association. They’re nothing but a bunch of old ass hags who have no purpose in their lives other than ruling over every other vampire in the world.”

Kun looks weary at his words. “You really don’t care, do you, Xuxi. They’d have your heart on a stake if they ever heard that.” He pauses and rolls his eyes. “They’re also not that much older than me, so I wonder who you’re calling an ‘old ass hag’...”

“Isn’t it a good thing that they won’t hear it, then?” Lucas laughs, but it’s not an entirely humorous sound, and he gives Kun a searching look as his chuckles die off.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have no interest in telling them anything, mostly because I also have no interest in our whole clan being wiped out.”

Lucas nods, reaffirming his somewhat shaky but still present trust in Kun, needing the regular reassurances for his own calm. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a few steps like he’ll go to his room, though he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “Just don’t see what the big deal about all this is. All this over some ancient bloodsucker who died like 500 years ago...who cares.”

Kun winces again, though he doesn’t bother with reprimanding Lucas this time; he only shakes his head and sighs heavily like it’s already a lost cause. “A vampire and a fairy together is more than blasphemy—it’s ridiculous. It’s illogical. They all think we’re bloodsucking demons hellbent on killing them.”

“To be fair, there’s definitely a sect of vampire zealots or two who are trying to do exactly that despite the laws.”

Kun sighs. Lucas is right; what can he say to argue that? “Xuxi…”

“I’m telling you I’ll be fine, Kun-ge. You don’t need to worry about me and Y/N. Things have been going fine for this long.” Lucas nods, then heads off to his room for real this time. Kun watches him leave, feeling a lot less reassured than the younger man.

Ten takes Xiaojun and Lucas on one of their weekly outings to a blood lounge. Blood lounges are an easy and accessible way for vampires to get blood, though the legalities of this practice are a little muddy. Before getting with you, Lucas didn’t mind drinking straight from the source—going to one of the back rooms and sucking some willing, vulnerable being just to the point of death—but now, it feels like a type of transgression. Drinking someone else’s blood can be an intensely intimate act, on the same level as sex depending on the context, and he doesn’t want to do anything to make you think he’d be unfaithful.

To his fortune, there is no club rule about having to feed off other beings; many vampires take their blood in fancy champagne glasses, just like drinks in a human club. He does that now as the three men sit in a darkly lit booth.

Their conversation is unexciting for a while, with Lucas keeping careful not to mention you or any of his recent visits to your district to avoid any prying ears in the lounge. However, things soon get interesting. “We all know how Renjun got taken off the Association’s Registry a year ago, right?” Ten asks suddenly.

“Yes, of course.” Xiaojun answers like he’s already bored of this turn in the conversation. “That’s what happens whenever a vampire dies.”

Ten nods, but his eyes are wide like he has a secret he’s itching to tell. “But I don’t think he actually died.”

Lucas’s ears perk up at that.

“Why?” Xiaojun asks.

“He was seeing that human before he supposedly died, you know—”

“The one who lost it and drove the stake in his heart? We all know how it happened—”

“Can you let me finish? Anyway, I’ve heard some...suggestions that he faked his death—that maybe he got a magic user to set the whole crime scene up and make it look like it was real. Illusory magic, or something like that.”

Xiaojun sits forward. “A magic user. As in a fairy? Or a witch? Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone who uses magic. People are starting to think he and the human faked it all and ran away to Tianjin. I heard someone even claimed they saw somebody who resembled him when they went to Tianjin recently, though I don’t know how true that is…”

Xiaojun’s interest is thoroughly engaged now. “Think the Association will go looking for him, if it's true?”

“I don’t know if they’d care enough to hunt down an unregistered vampire who’s laying low and not creating chaos with other citizens. We all know Tianjin is way more relaxed about inter-species relationships, too. But the Association doesn’t like looking stupid. And that kind of trick definitely makes them look stupid.”

Lucas sits back, taking all of this information in. He is uncharacteristically quiet, but he doesn’t know what to make of that situation or why Ten is telling them about it. He thinks he can guess why, though, by the way Ten’s gaze lingers on him, and that scares him a little. The way this rumor piques a forbidden interest in him scares him. Lucas lifts the glass of blood to his lips and drinks from it, trying to distract himself from the current conversation.

“All this for a damn human. Only an idiot would try something like that,” Xiaojun says, shaking his head.

“Maybe a smart one. It did get him off the Registry.”

“How can you be a smart idiot?!” Ten and Xiaojun start arguing over the semantics of the term, and Lucas watches them in amusement, though his mind remains in two different places for the rest of their time in the blood lounge.

—

Later that night when they are back at the manor, Lucas pulls Ten aside, just like the older man expected him to.

“What’s wrong?” Ten asks, though his expression shows he already knows exactly what’s the matter.

“You...the stuff you said about Renjun earlier. I…” Lucas doesn’t know how to start or break his idea to him softly, so he decides to just say it. “Is it really possible?”

“I think it’s possible. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get off the Registry…though many other attempts were way less successful.” Then Ten hesitates before saying, “You could try it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.” Ten’s expression softens a little. “I know you and Y/N love each other a lot, but there’s no way the Association will ever let you stay together if they find out. Y/N’s life could actually be in danger. Both of you are, every moment you spend together while living in these districts. If you really want to stay with Y/N, then…”

“...But I wouldn’t be able to see any of you again.” You and Lucas have become so entwined with one another that he can hardly imagine a life without you, but he also finds it difficult to picture his existence without his brothers. They’ve become like blood family to him over the last couple centuries.

“Yeah.” Ten sighs deeply, and although his reply is short, Lucas knows that one word is carrying the weight of all of his stress and sorrow about the idea. “Maybe we could find a way to visit you sometimes. Get the fairies or witches to do some of their magicky shit.” Ten laughs quietly. “But...it’s still just an idea. You don’t have to do it.”

Lucas shakes his head slowly. He wants to put the idea to bed and try to continue on with his life, managing his clandestine visits to your district when he can. But now that he knows of an alternative way, no matter how unreasonable or unbelievable it is, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget about it. “Kun-ge is going to kill you once he finds out this was your suggestion. You know that, right?”

Ten shrugs, and the sadness lifts momentarily in the curve of his lips. “He can try.”

The next time you and Lucas meet up, it’s in yet another different place under an ancient and mostly abandoned bridge. As a precaution, you stand together underneath the darkness of the bridge and stay out of sight, though there are few chances of anyone being around to see you in the first place.

He has to muster up the courage to tell you of his idea, unsure of how you’ll react or what you’ll think of it. It’s a lot to ask of you. Your kinships and friendships are not as extensive as his, only having a brother and two cousins left in the world, but he doesn’t know if he could ever ask you to leave them behind like this. Or if he could shake off the guilt that would remain from it.

“There might be a way for us to change things…” Lucas starts, skipping the build-up because he knows it would take him forever to think of something appropriate to say. “But I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Change things?” You glance at him curiously. You wish you could see the deep red of his irises, but they are hidden behind his brown contacts. “As in, with us?”

“Yes. So that maybe we wouldn’t have to sneak around anymore. Or at least...not sneak around as much as we do now.”

“What is it?” you ask. Despite yourself, your wings flutter against your back as wonder and excitement rise in your chest. You and Lucas have waxed poetic many times before about how you wish things could be different; and neither of you have ever been able to come up with a workable plan. But now, his claim that maybe something is possible has you dangerously curious.

“Taking myself off the Registry. I could basically just...disappear. The Association can’t harm what technically no longer exists.”

You stare at him in confusion. “But you can’t do that, right? Only under special circumstances…”

Lucas sees the question in your eyes and nods. “Right. Like if I die…” You flinch, shaking your head immediately. “...or pretend I’ve died.” This makes you pause, not expecting to hear something like that come from him.

“Pretend...you’ve died. Faking your own death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but...there’s another vampire who we think has done it before. And...it worked. Supposedly.”

You shake your head again, but you turn the idea over in your mind. “How would you even do that? Someone would have to know you’re not really dead. That can’t be as easy as it sounds...”

Lucas swallows hard. “I know, it doesn’t, but maybe if we plan it right...I think we could pull this off. Some of the others...already know about it.” Only Ten, really, but that’ll inevitably change soon.

Your heart is hammering in your chest just thinking about this plan—the small, undefined plan that it is—and you’re unsure how to approach it. “If we leave under those circumstances, we can’t come back here to Beijing. Which means we won’t see anyone else again, our families and friends...”

“You understand that.” Lucas’s voice comes out strained.

You sigh, wringing your hands. “I do.”

Lucas hangs his head, closing his eyes tightly. “It’s too much to ask of you. We can just forget about this, really. I know sneaking around has been difficult, and I just—”

“I never said I wouldn’t agree to it,” you say softly, interrupting him before he can begin deriding himself about the idea.

Lucas’s head perks up again, and you both look at each other for a long moment. A cold night breeze flows through your clothes and rustles your wings, which remain tucked close against your back.

“Just think of it as leaving the nest, I guess,” you say, though there are tears welling in your eyes. “Growing up and making a life for ourselves. We can do that...right?”

Lucas bites his lip and closes his eyelids to stave off the tears trying to form in his own eyes. “Yeah. We can do that. Even if it’s a bit...unconventional.”

You nod hurriedly, wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands before any more tears can make their way out. “If you really want to do this, then we need to visit my brother.”

—

Your brother is predictably not thrilled about the idea. He likes Lucas well enough, but he’s never been very good at hiding his skepticism about your relationship. Though he would never say this to you directly, he never expected your relationship to make it past a few months; and yet it’s been a year and a half since you and Lucas started seeing each other. Maybe he’d be glad about your relationship’s stability if your partner was anyone other than a vampire. Alas, he instead spends all his time stressing over whether either of you will be found out at any moment’s notice.

“You’re playing with fire,” your brother says as he sits down at his desk within his apothecary office. He shakes his head the entire time, but he rifles through his collection of books on magic anyway. If there is anyone who knows a potion or spell that could work for this scheme and would actually be willing to keep it all secret, it’s your brother.

“I know that, Aldriel.” You cross your arms, sighing impatiently at your brother’s continuous reprimands since you’ve stepped through his door. “That’s why we came to you. You’re one of the best magic wielders and potionists around.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. No need to blow smoke up my ass,” Aldriel replies, never one to let a moment to brag slip away. He continues flipping through his book fast enough to make the words on the pages blur, his brow creased with focus. He is paying attention to the words and pictures on the pages, though you also know him well enough to realize this is him trying to distract himself from the many thoughts that must be crowding his brain.

“Don’t be so worried about it,” you say, trying to speak against the lump that’s suddenly forming in your throat. “You’ve always complained about wanting me out of your hair, anyway.”

Aldriel pauses in flipping through his spell book to look directly at you now, his brows creased even further and his face creating a visage of bitter desperation. “Not like this.”

Sighing, you turn away from him and let him go back to his textbook, knowing you’d probably start to cry if you look at him any longer. And who knows what will happen once that begins.

You go back to Lucas, who is sitting in the other room with his face turned to the window. It is nighttime and the blinds are closed, so you know he’s not looking at anything in particular. His mind must be similarly preoccupied.

“You okay?” you ask, touching his arm.

“Fine,” he answers, though he doesn’t turn to you. He just grasps your hand where it slides down to his own, gripping your fingers tightly. “As fine as I can be in this situation, I guess.”

You sit down in front of Lucas on the floor’s intricately decorated rug, resting your head against his knee. “It’ll be okay.” You aren’t sure of the words when they leave your lips, but you have to believe in them or else all will be lost.

—

You both spend a few hours at Aldriel’s place. At one point, you try to prod Lucas into going back to his clan to avoid raising suspicions for being gone too long—you can just get the potion to him some other day—but he insists it’ll be easier for him to stay and receive the potion now.

Finally, in the hour before dawn, your brother’s door opens and he steps through. “It’s ready.”

Both you and Lucas come alert at that, and you step back into Aldriel’s apothecary to see what he’s developed.

“This is an advanced death glamor potion,” your brother says, holding up a small glass bottle. “It contains a magic incantation that will leave you dead for a week and only a week. Seven days. Your body will remain in perfect stasis, so there’s no risk of the regular side effects that come with death.”

“A week?” you repeat, nervousness coursing through your body. Lucas looks equally apprehensive, and he squeezes your hand tighter.

Aldriel nods, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “That should be enough time to take care of the funeral arrangements and make everyone else think you’ve passed.” He says the last bit while gesturing to Lucas. “I’m not super clear on how vampire funerary customs work, though, so—”

Lucas nods. “No, it’ll work. That’s enough time.”

Your brother’s mouth creases into a thin line. “Good.” He passes the vial to Lucas, makes an expression like he might say something else, and then shakes his head, glancing to you instead. “You plan to go to Tianjin, right?”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“You’ll need to find a place to stay, then, until you can get one of your own. And I think we both know exactly where that will be.”

The potion works just as Aldriel said it would. It’s hard to know whether to be dismayed or relieved about this, though the former emotion quickly wins out with everyone.

Lucas takes it a week after meeting with your brother and procuring all the necessary fake documents, claiming it’s best not to wait any longer for it. You feel apprehensive about doing it so soon; or maybe you just want to stall for a little while longer. By now the other five men in his clan all know, each with varying reactions to it but ultimately unable to do anything to change his mind—not even Kun.

On the night Lucas uses the potion, Kun makes one last ditch attempt at reasoning.

“You don’t need to go to this extreme,” the older man insists. Though his voice is cold and sharp and deceptively calm, his entire face is a picture of perfect anger. Everyone had already had their turns talking to Lucas alone and telling him what they needed him to hear—and now it’s just Kun left.

“It’s my decision,” Lucas says, keeping his voice steadier than he feels. “I want to be with Y/N. There is no other way.”

“You’re endangering the entire clan with this. You’d throw us all away for one person?” Kun’s eyes are red-rimmed, but not just from the rage; Lucas knows he’s been crying. Lucas shuts his own eyes, his forehead creasing as he presses the pads of his fingers to his temples.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Lucas shakes his head, knowing he is treading on very dangerous waters with what he’s about to say. As if the situation weren’t already contentious enough. “You closed yourself off to love a long time ago. After Jingyi died. You just wouldn’t know.”

The vivid red hue of anger bleeds into Kun’s irises at the mention of his late human lover, and he has to make a very concentrated effort not to reach for the younger’s neck. “How dare you speak of her.”

Lucas opens his eyes again and looks directly at his elder now. “You’ve let the Association run your life too much,” he says, though the words come out sounding a bit defeated. He’s not even sure why he invokes Kun’s lover now; maybe he is trying to make the split easier by provoking the other man into hating him. “You’ve let them beat it into you that love is not worth trying for. What did you gain from that, in the end? But more loneliness.”

Lucas gets the breath knocked from him when Kun slams him up against the wall, and the unpleasant sound of wood splintering strikes against his eardrums. A long vertical crack forms in the wood behind Lucas, but not wide enough to make the wall separate completely. Not using his full strength, then, Lucas thinks to himself.

Kun looks for all the world like he might kill Lucas then and there without the younger man ever needing to take a potion—just bite his heart right out. He crumples Lucas’s shirt in his hands, fisting the fabric tightly enough to create small rips in it. His irises are the color of newly spilled arterial blood, and alongside the red rimming of his eyes from his earlier crying, it makes for an agonizing sight—one that sears itself into the back of Lucas’s mind. It’s made even worse by the new tears spilling down the older man’s face.

He chokes out through the tears, “You cannot do this. I raised you. You would have me destroyed twice?”

Lucas wishes he could shut every one of his senses off right now, but he can only manage to shut his eyes, once again, against the pain in the other man’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Kun-ge.”

—

After that, Lucas goes back to his own room and sits on the bed for a long time, replaying the events in his head and growing colder with the realization of what he’s about to do. He stares at the small vial on his dresser until he can’t stare at it anymore, and then he downs it all at once. He looks at the vial with renewed interest as it actually disappears once the fluid is gone, the glass evaporating away in the palm of his hand like water droplets under the sun. No evidence.

Lying on his side, he stares at the wall across from his bed and waits for the spell to begin working. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually his vision begins to blur, almost so imperceptibly that it’s difficult to realize until he notices everything in his field of view is doubled, objects bleeding out of their lines like pictures drawn by a drunken artist—there’s a strange ringing in his ears too, a sound on the edge of his hearing but still present, and he doesn’t know what any of it means, or if this is how other beings feel when they are on the brink of death—it’s frightening, and he feels a momentary pang of sympathy for other nonhumans and humans alike who have no choice but to experience this terrible ordeal at the closing of their lives—

It’s harder to keep his eyes open now, so he closes them and lets all sounds and sensations fade out of his hearing—he only holds one last memory of you in his mind, of the soft and filmy texture of your wings underneath his fingertips, of you laughing whole-heartedly at something silly he’d said, and he joins his hands together in the universal symbol of prayer even as they grow weaker, hoping and praying even to his cursed vampire ancestor that this won’t be the very last memory of you—

—

“Yes, he has...most certainly departed from this world.”

An Association council member known as Belial announces this to the room of men after doing a thorough check of Lucas’s body. His voice is distant and saddened. The texture of it is almost tangible, dragging everyone down with it like a physical thing—akin to a rock being dropped into a thin sheet. “Such a fledgling, too. Truly tragic and strange circumstances.” Belial stands beside the bed, shaking his head and looking down at the still form of the younger man as if he might discover an answer if he stares for long enough. “Was there no indication…?”

“He was probably exposed to bad blood,” Ten replies, his voice tense and quiet. Though Kun is clan leader, he doesn’t say anything at all, leaving all the dirty work of explaining the lie to Ten.

Belial’s gaze turns to Ten. He shifts his head slightly to turn his ear towards him, as if he didn’t understand what the other man said. “Bad...blood? As in death by blood weakness?”

The room feels like it’s been sucked of air once these words are spoken, and the younger men shift uncomfortably. Sicheng never lifts his gaze to look at Belial, though Yangyang’s eyes keep darting between Belial and Lucas on the bed like he’s waiting for something to happen. Hendery is just as anxious beside Yangyang, both of them passing uneasy energy between each other. Xiaojun’s face is still fixed into the same permanent frown it had been in since Lucas first told them of the plan. His eyes remain downcast and fixed on Lucas, silently asking Why did you have to be the idiot this time?

“Yes, blood weakness. He hadn’t drank as much blood as usual in the last few days...maybe he seemed a little restless...but we didn’t think it was unusual. He...didn’t seem sick.”

“Where would he have gotten bad blood from? We vampires always take such care…” Belial’s tone turns condescending, as if he could expect no better from a young vampire—someone not even wise enough to tell bad blood from uninfected blood. How could one let themselves be taken out of this world by such a fundamental, basic mistake? Kun curls his fingers into a fist at his side, though he quickly remembers himself and tries to let them relax.

“The blood lounge,” Hendery blurts out. Every eye turns to him now, and Ten’s mouth thins into an agitated line. This isn’t what they agreed on. “M-maybe it was spoiled blood from the blood lounge. It had to be. He’s more careful than that…”

Belial’s eyes are whirling with so many emotions that it’s hard to pin any singular one down. “Serving bad blood, with or without knowledge of it, is an incredible offense within any vampire district. In that case, the establishment must be shut down—after an exhaustive investigation, of course.” This statement causes more discomfort among the gathered men, almost too much of it to be properly concealed.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Kun interjects quietly. Belial looks at him with an expression that reeks of offense, and Kun returns the stare, glaring straight into the elder vampire’s eyes. “He died of blood weakness, most likely from drinking from some disease-ridden human. Even though he used the blood lounge and blood bags, he was in the habit of getting outside blood on occasion. It was a moment of poor judgment that cost him his life...and nothing more than that.”

A tense silence stretches over the room, and Belial’s eyes still don’t leave Kun’s. The other men remain statue-still, waiting to see what will happen—if it will work—until Belial says, “Yes. Of course. I’ll file his passing with the Keepers of the Registry, as protocol states.”

The other men stay quiet and motionless until Belial departs from their house.

“You used your compulsion on a council member,” says Yangyang, and even his voice is trembling when he speaks.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Xiaojun notes, though his tone is more irritated than awed. “They’re all so much more advanced.”

That action obviously didn’t come for free, though, because Kun is holding his head like it hurts, turning away from the rest of them. “Such recklessness is not my style. Primitiva help us all. We’re all dead if we’re found out.”

“Why did you say that,” Sicheng deadpans, his words directed to Hendery. Even though Sicheng hasn’t said or done anything since stepping into the room, he looks thoroughly exhausted. “You almost gave us away.”

Hendery holds himself up on the bed as if he’ll collapse, his body bent with all the weight of their lies. He makes a motion like he might sit on the bed before remembering it’s where Lucas’s body is resting, and he straightens himself with some effort. “I...but he was thinking badly of Lucas. Like it was his fault.”

“It was,” Kun says faintly.

“You can’t let your emotions get the best of you right now. Just let me handle the talking.” Ten’s expression is stressed, and for a moment he starts to wonder if he should’ve ever said anything to Lucas at all.

Xiaojun shakes his head. “For now, there is a lot more we need to do than just talking.”

Vampire funerary procedures are much different from what many other supernatural races are used to—even blasphemous to some. Everything is handled at the home of the deceased instead of a funeral home or mortuary, in keeping with the tradition of honoring one’s vampire ancestors—and ultimately, the Primitiva Vampire. After the Primitiva’s gruesome death hundreds of years ago, all that had been left was her ashes once the fire burned out, but her followers still gave the remains a proper processing and burial.

The men dress Lucas in one of his nicest suits and perform all the necessary actions that would be involved at a funerary home, including preparing the casket. All of them help throughout this process as tradition dictates, though it is more difficult than any of them expected it to be. (No one even makes a dark joke about you’ll have to do this for me when I’m gone, which speaks to their inner turmoil.)

The viewing is equally challenging to get through, if not more.

Many of their vampire friends and acquaintances attend, including various members of the Association. Everyone seems to buy the blood weakness lie perfectly, which means Kun’s compulsion worked as it should have. That knowledge does very little to relax any of them in the grand scheme of things, though.

Though they know Lucas is not really gone, the sight of him lying there in that dark coffin with other vampires looking sadly down at his still face and dabbing their tears away is deeply frightening.

The night of the viewing goes by at a glacial pace, and every other night after that up until the funeral passes even more slowly, like time itself has dropped its speed to prolong the torment.

When the last few straggling visitors for the viewing are gone, the men go their separate ways to try to deal with the not-so-small trauma of the day’s events. Kun goes up to one of the manor’s several wide balconies, one that they’ve all used as a familiar hangout spot or simply a place to unwind over the years. The sun will not rise for another forty-five minutes or so, giving him enough time to sit and think before it becomes unsafe. He is not very surprised when he finds Ten already there, though he decides not to leave.

“You stopped smoking three decades ago,” Kun comments, waving his hand in a pitiful attempt to clear out the smell of smoke filling the air. There’s no hint of teasing or personality in his voice, only hollowness and exhaustion. He sits beside the other man in one of the chairs sat outside. “Where did you even get cigarettes from?”

“Don’t worry about me. This is just for the nerves.”

“Why would I worry, it’s not like you can—” Kun pauses before saying the word they both know, realizing it hits far too close to home right now. Silence falls between them until Kun asks, “Do you actually believe this will be worth it?”

“It will. We’ve worked too hard for it not to be.” Ten takes a drag from his cigarette. “We’re giving them a second chance. Isn’t that something to feel good about?”

“A second chance. How interesting.”

“Everyone deserves one.” Ten glances at Kun from the corners of his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, but Kun already knows what he’s vaguely implying.

“And yet everyone doesn’t get one.”

“All the more reason to take the opportunity when it becomes possible.”

Kun doesn’t reply to that. Ten places a hand on his shoulder, but the older man meets this with little regard as he rises from his seat and walks away at a sluggish pace.

You stand in the train station ready to buy a ticket, clutching documents falsifying your identity and feeling more terrified than you possibly ever have. Today marks the seventh day, and you don’t even know if Lucas is alive right now. It was too risky to have any of the other clan members contact you—not until you and Lucas meet up in the designated place. You know Aldriel is an excellent potion master, and if he says the spell will work as intended then it will, but there’s always that seed of doubt.

Your parting with Aldriel had been typical of your relationship with him—you crumbling before him and him pretending like he was fine, lending enough strength for the both of you to survive on, though you knew he was also bleeding from the heart.

“You better not forget about me,” you’d told him, smushing your face into the sleeve of his shirt to hide your tears, though there was no stopping the flow. It was staining his shirt sleeve right through.

He’d scoffed at you, though it was a watery sound. “I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He’d held your head closer against his shoulder, the both of you glued together in whichever way seemed fit when you’d walked through his door one last time to say goodbye. “We’ll see each other again. Don’t worry.”

You’d lifted your head from his shoulder then, looking at him with an aggrieved expression. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Aldriel put his hand on top of your head, petting you like a small puppy. It was a thing you’d disliked since you were both children, but which only made your heart hurt even more now. “Have more faith in me than that, dear sister. You’ll see.”

When it’s your turn to get a ticket, you step up to the counter and hand over your information, trying to keep the shaking in your hands to a minimum. The teller behind the counter is also a fairy, their wings tucked against the back of their uniform but peeking out at the sides. You childishly try to take some solace in that, hoping there will be some solidarity between you two. Maybe they’ll be less critical of your legitimacy than any other being might be.

The process is scarily easier than you’d thought it would be, though you are sweating the entire time. A fake name and birth date, and no one suspected anything. All of this would have to be your new identity now if you were to live with Lucas in Tianjin without being discovered.

Getting on the train when it comes is only part of the long journey ahead. It doesn’t provide you with much relief, but you are at least thankful to have one segment of that journey complete.

—

It takes another cab to get to your destination once you’re off the train, but you soon arrive at the house of one of Aldriel’s friends and his similar-name twin—Raziel. Raziel was Aldriel’s most trusted and oldest friend, their woven history extending back to childhood. The three of you had grown up together, and you’d even been quite familiar with Raziel until they left for Tianjin some years ago. Now, you’re back in front of each other again under circumstances that you never could’ve guessed.

“You’re here. Good.” Raziel welcomes you into their house with open arms, tugging you into a jittery hug that you anxiously return.

“Have...you heard anything?” you ask, though you know it’s futile. Raziel wouldn’t have gotten any more information than you have, not until Lucas was standing right on their doorstep. They shake their head and give you a sympathetic look, patting your hands.

“He’ll be alright. Everything will go well. I believe it.” Raziel guides you further into their house, presumably towards the room you’ll be staying in while you’re there. “It’s all so romantic, though—even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. I hope you know you’re doing a good thing, in the end.”

You force your facial muscles into a smile, though it is a ghostly and fleeting one. “Thank you.”

Either way, you will have to wait until nighttime to know if Raziel’s words come true or not; the sun is still high in the sky. It’s only midday. You’ve never before hated the sunlight, but right now you curse the sun’s rays that elongate the time between you and your lover.

—

“You all, give him some damn space,” Ten says, trying to pull the younger vampires away so they won’t crowd around the coffin. “He doesn’t need the scare of his life looking at all your faces when he wakes up.” Despite trying his best to be the voice of reason, Ten also has to refuse the urge to station himself beside the coffin and watch for the slightest movement of eyelids, the tiniest twitch of the lips. His hands shake from the frayed nerves of a week of nothing but death and gloom, and even though he doesn’t need to sleep, he thinks he will be out for at least two days after all of this is over.

There is no set time, no designated signal for when—or the dreaded if—Lucas will awaken. The waiting game feels longer than it really is, especially with the hours until the funeral commences steadily counting down. However, it is not very long before there’s a big sucking breath coming from the coffin, the sudden sound of lungs being filled after a week of complete stillness. Everyone rushes back to the bier when this happens, peering wildly inside the coffin.

Lucas’s eyelids flutter for an eternity before shooting open. He immediately seems distressed upon waking, sitting up out of the coffin so quick that it stutters on its stand, and the others have to steady it before it tips over.

“Xuxi...are you okay?” Sicheng asks, voice hushed with nervousness. Despite his unending anger and distress about the situation, Kun has also crowded in to witness Lucas’s awakening, and he visibly sags with relief to see the younger man is at last awake.

The look in Lucas’s eyes is wild. They are momentarily afraid that maybe something has gone wrong with the potion—maybe it has affected his mind somehow and he doesn’t remember any of them— but then he says,

“Y/N. Is Y/N okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sicheng replies. “I mean, hopefully. But it was safer to not have so much cross-communication going on—you’ll have to go to the meeting spot to find out…”

Though the reasons for this make sense, this does not provide consolation. Lucas fumbles his way out of the coffin with the men’s help. It’s clear he’s still disoriented, which makes them even more nervous, if that’s possible at this point.

“You should drink some blood before you leave,” Hendery suggests, and everyone else agrees. Lucas won’t argue that, so he downs one of the blood bags they have stored until he feels a little more like himself.

“You have to go soon, the funeral is set to start in another hour—we’ll have to leave—” Yangyang warns him, though the words fade at the end of his sentence. He doesn’t know how to continue his thought or how to even begin saying goodbye.

Lucas fills that gap by steeling himself and saying his farewells to each of them in turn, though his eyes are troubled and his chin crumples like he might cry at any moment.

“Don’t say I never helped you out with anything,” Ten says, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. Being separated is painful, but it’ll ultimately serve its purpose of giving Lucas a chance at having a love that none of them could. After seeing Kun suffer the way he did after losing Jingyi, Ten wants to spare another one of his mates from dealing with the same fate.

When Lucas gets to Kun, there is a slight awkward silence and a swift exchange of glances—Lucas’s soft gaze butting up against Kun’s more solid one, which is simultaneously pleading to him and rebuking him for his actions. Still, Kun embraces him tightly enough that their bodies could join together.

“Xuxi…” Kun starts, “I don’t…” And then his words break, leaving an unspoken thought between them.

“One day, you’ll forgive me for this,” Lucas whispers to the older man. Kun gives him an endlessly hurt look in return, silently asking him how he could even conceive those words. When they separate from each other, it’s with much reluctance. Lucas looks at them all and nods once, his mouth tight with grief.

“Right. Time to go, then.”

—

You awake in the middle of the night to cool fingers on the side of your face, which startles you completely out of your sleep. Opening your eyes to an unfamiliar room scares you even more, and it takes you a moment to remember why your surroundings have changed. The knowledge comes back to you quickly when a large palm slips against your own, long fingers twining with yours.

“Xuxi,” you whisper quietly, the sound of his name hanging in the air like a prayer. One of the last few times you’ll be able to freely call him that, except in private.

You can’t see his figure well with all the lights turned out, but he had no problem navigating through the dark to reach your bedside. Wanting desperately to see his face, you fumble around for the bedside lamp switch before turning it on.

“Y/N…” Lucas’s face is suddenly illuminated to you in all its golden glory, a myriad of emotions flickering over his features.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” you say breathlessly. You’re somewhat sad and wish you could’ve met him at the door, embraced him after his long trip, but it doesn’t much matter anymore because he’s here now.

“Poor Y/N. My baby must’ve been so tired.” Lucas bumps his forehead against yours, his whole body drooping with relief as he practically sinks into you, and you giggle a little as you complain about having to hold his weight up. There is a tingle behind your eyes that threatens to turn into a sudden burst of tears, but you try to hold them at bay for a while longer.

“Are we safe?” he whispers, needing your confirmation. “Raziel said so. But...are we really safe?”

“That’s frightening to even think about,” you reply quietly. “We can’t stay here too long, but for now…I think we will be.” Lucas nods without a word, still holding your hand. His blood-scent is completely absent, as it usually is when he’s around you, and you know he’s used the blockers. Soon, with the ability to go out together and not be arrested or threatened for it, that will not be necessary to disguise his vampirism anymore. “It...won’t be easy.”

“No, but the things we want out of life usually aren’t.”

You squeeze his hand. “Raziel will help take care of things for us. It won’t all be trials and tribulations. I hope.” More hesitantly, you ask him, “What was it like? Being dead?” You know that vampires, being once human, still have souls and an afterlife to go to like most other living beings.

The look on his face is worrying. He doesn’t meet your eyes; he only shakes his head and stares at your joined hands. “It was cold without you.” His lips pull into a weak and chapped smile, if only to quiet your worrying, but that doesn’t work as intended. You decide to leave it for now, figuring there will be more time to talk about it when he feels ready.

Turning the light back off, you both press your bodies together as close as they can physically get, Lucas’s head on your chest and his long legs all jumbled together with yours. You fall asleep before he does, lulled away by his comforting and safe presence. He stays awake for a while longer, staring into the dark and the dark staring back into him, before everything else falls away.

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Text

Be Mine (06)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death, Trauma, Bath Sex, Blood and Injury, Oral Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Feelings

Notes: Welcome! Here is chapter 6! I apologize for the wait, but this is how things are going to be from now on, I'm afraid. I just started my second semester of college and I'm drowning in work. Please don't expect more than a chapter a week :/ I hope you understand that I'm trying my best. I hope you enjoy this chapter <3

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Niragi wakes up with the sun, light seeping into the room through the blinds that no one cares to close. His whole body hurts like he has been hit by a meteor. Not quite though, but sure feels like it. He keeps his eyes close as your scent hits his nostrils; you smell like vanilla and strawberries. It’s so sweet, he has to control himself every time you’re near to not bite you. And now you smell like him too. No more of that disgusting toothpaste and dirt stench Chishiya left on your skin. Only sweetness and warmth.

Fucking Chishiya. The bastard had tried killing him, he had no doubt about that. The way the wolf drove him right into that trap; he was lucky he didn’t get his paw cut off right there. He was also pretty sure he had fucked you just to piss him off. He cursed himself from being so stupid; he should know Chishiya would try something while he was away. But after your first night together, he had to leave. All these messed up and foreign emotions inside him; he couldn’t deal with those. After he saw your back and all his trauma came tumbling through, he needed to leave that room. He needed to think.

So he left, got drunk, came back to the room, and vaguely remembers making you a promise; like a stupid boy in love. He bailed as soon as he woke up.

Before he noticed it, he was playing game after game, getting as many cards as he possibly could. He almost died several times, but he kept doing it. He couldn’t sleep either, his nights filled with nightmares. He wondered what he was doing it for. Then he realized; he was doing it for you. To take you out of this place. It had been instinctive to try keeping you safe. You had no idea how getting away from you hurt him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be close. He kept eyes on you though; he could never stay away completely. There was always someone watching.

Then Chishiya happened, and none of that mattered. You are his, and he will make sure everyone knows it.

Fuck, how he hates that white-haired sociopath; his fingers tingle to shoot him every time he’s on sight. But he simply never had the chance. The man didn’t bother him half as much as he does now. Your arrival has changed everything.

You ended up in bed after sex, somehow managing to get out of the bath. If he was honest with himself, fucking you had been a struggle; everything in his body hurt, and he could barely think through the fever. But it was so worth it. He had almost forgotten how amazing your scent is, how your soft skin tastes, and how your warm pussy clenches around him in time with his thrusts. It was perfect. You’re perfect.

He opens his eyes to stare at the top of your head, your body nestled against his side. You sleep soundly, soft breathing raising the arm he has over you. Your whole body presses against his, and he can feel himself getting hard again. He can’t wait for you to be in heat; he will waste no time in knotting inside you and marking you as his. Then he will get you out of this fucking country and make sure to give you the best life he can.

These thoughts are foreign to him; he had no idea an Omega could awake those kinds of instincts. Before he met you, he had no interest in romantic relationships; every relation he had with a woman was either professional or straight-up sex. He wasn’t the caring type; he isn’t the caring type.

Not that he will ever tell anyone this, but it terrifies him.

Now he caught himself wondering about what you like, how he can protect you, and how you feel about him. Fuck, he even imagined what it would be like to have a family with you.

He notices how your tone changes every time you mention family. He hadn’t expected the fact that your own father had given you those scars, but it added up to your refusal to bond and accept your true nature. Still, he can’t avoid the images of you pregnant with his child from popping up in his mind every time he’s inside you; it only makes him come harder.

Fuck, he’s painfully hard.

You stir against him, leg rising over his hip. Damn, how he wishes he could turn you on your back and fuck you till you’re a moaning mess without it bringing him agony. It borders on annoying how much his wolf craves yours. It’s such a powerful, almost impossible to ignore, instinct.

He just has to have you.

His hand slides down your back, fingers lightly touching the skin until he reaches the curve of your ass. Your skin is so soft and warm; he never touched anything like you. The sensation he feels when you touch is electrifying; addicting. He can’t get enough. Is it his wolf or his own feelings? He gives your ass a slight squeeze, smirking when you make a sound between a moan and a sigh. His hand slides a little lower until his fingertips are touching your pussy lips. His smirk gets wider; you’re already wet, and he barely had to touch you.

You whimper when he slides his fingers inside, your hips moving against his side almost immediately. He lets out a small laugh, his other hand rising to palm your breast. You push even more against him.

“Niragi…” you moan. The hairs on his body rise up as he feels your lips on his skin, kissing and licking his chest. He starts pumping his fingers in and out of you; he bets he can make you come just like this. After that, he will make you come on his cock, just like the night before.

Your moans fill the room as he keeps fucking you, fingers stretching you and massaging your velvety walls. The hand on your breasts rises to touch your lips, and you’re sucking on his fingers before he even has to ask. Fuck, your mouth must feel great around his cock. He decides right there that you won’t leave the bed until you suck him dry.

“Sit on my face,” he orders in a deep voice. You look at him with semi-open eyes, lips full, mouth open in a moan. He’s pulling your face in a kiss before you can utter a word, “I want to fuck your mouth while making you come on my tongue,” he whispers against your lips. He watches you hesitate for a second before moving into the position he told you to, legs spread on either side of his head, wet pussy right over his face.

Your scent hits him like a truck; is mouth-watering. He might be wrong, but something tells him you’re close to your heat; that makes him so hard he feels dizzy for a second. He gives you an experimental lick, waiting for your reaction, chuckling when you whimper and your thighs shake. His arms go around your legs to grab at your ass, spreading the cheeks for easier access. His tongue is inside you not long after, licking and thrusting and slurping as you move your hips over his mouth.

Niragi’s brain almost stops working when you put his cock in your mouth without warning. He freezes, lips still on your clit, moaning as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Fuck, your mouth is heaven. Nothing can compare to your pussy, but your tongue pressing down on his shaft is pretty damn close. The slurping and gagging noises you make only excite him further, and he’s back at lapping at your dripping cunt.

“I- I want you inside me-” you whine as you stroke his cock, now slick with your spit. His only answer is a slap to your ass and a harder suck on your clit. You gasp at the joined sensation, arching your back as you rest your head on his thigh. A second slap, this time harder, makes you cry out.

“Use your mouth,” Niragi says with a light bite to your inner thigh. He didn’t tell you to stop. “Don’t stop until you’re swallowing every drop of my cum.”

Your mouth goes back to his cock, sucking him and licking him even harder than before. He can’t stop himself from thrusting into you; he needs more. Two of his fingers go inside your pussy at the same time he gives his full attention to your clit. The sounds you make as he sucks you and fingerfucks you are music to his ears; it’s the only thing he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

“Niragi I’m- ”

“Keep sucking,” he interrupts before you can finish talking. He knows damn well you’re about to come; he feels it on the vice grip you pull on his fingers. His movements get more experimental; he wants to find the exact spot that will make you scream.

He’s sure he found it when you almost bite down on his cock, body falling on top of him when your legs give up on you for a moment. He grunts in discomfort before warning, “I’m gonna stop every time you stop. Keep sucking, or you’re not coming.”

You do as he says, and he resumes his new found pace. You squirm above him, but he keeps fucking you with his tongue and fingers, waiting for your orgasm to explode. He feels his own getting closer, a pulling sensation on his pelvis barely letting him concentrate on you.

You finally come with a scream around his cock. He keeps going, lapping at your cunt like you’re a fountain and he hasn’t had water for days. The vibrations of your voice make him come right after, surprising both of you. You choke for a moment as you try to swallow all of his cum.

He’s not done though; not quite yet.

“Ride me,” he says after a moment where you both try to regain your breath. Another thing he can thank his Alpha status for; he’s pretty sure he can fuck you nonstop for hours. He grunts in slight pain as you try to change positions, your wobbly legs making it harder to move. He’s already half-hard again, and it doesn’t take you long to sink on his cock.

Fuck, your pussy is just the warmest and tightest hole he has ever fucked. His hands go to your hips, immediately forcing you to set up a pace. His body still hurts like hell, but he doesn’t care. Nothing matters but you above him, mouth open in pleasure and tits bouncing as you impale yourself up and down on his cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he can’t resist the impulse to praise you. Your eyes flash with content, and he knows you love it. “Fucking me like that, so wet and tight. Such a good Omega.” Your lips are on his with a moan, and he smiles into the kiss, teeth softly biting your lip. He accepts your body on him, even though his injuries burn. It doesn’t matter, they will heal. You keep moving on him, his cock filling you to the brim.

Images of you round and pregnant with his child, tits full with milk, pop again into his mind. He can’t control himself; he will make it into reality one day. His hips snap harder against you, and you clench even harder on his cock. He feels like he’s going insane; his wolf is howling to get out and possess you like the beast he is.

“Say it, who do you belong to?” he snarls between kisses and licks to your neck, “Tell me, who’s your Alpha?”

“Y-you are- ” you manage to say between whimpers of pleasure. “Alpha- “

“Say my name!”

“You- Niragi, you are-”

“That’s right,” his teeth graze the skin of your marking spot, and you shudder. He’s so close.

His teeth sink on your shoulder for just a second, but it’s enough. His orgasm feels like an explosion of pleasure, and he swears he goes blind for a moment. Together with the euphoric sensation, comes something he wasn’t expecting. It’s like a faint echo of emotions that are not his; he’s pretty sure of that. They’re yours.

He opens his eyes to stare into yours, gaze filled with something he can’t recognize, but he can feel. A mix of euphoria, care, adoration, and… fear; apprehension, to be more exact. He doesn’t quite understand the last one. Why would you be afraid? He’s here to protect you, says his wolf.

All those emotions freak him out. The man is terrified. It’s too much again. He swiftly but carefully pushes you off of him to the side, and he curses himself as he feels the faint emotion of shame and rejection. Now that he’s fully conscious, this was a bad idea. It’s too much. Took years of work for him to be able to put his feelings under control; and then here you are, filling his head with your unruly emotions and thoughts of babies and marriage.

That’s not him; it never was, it never will be.

Biting you was a mistake, he thinks for just a second, before the mere thought of denying you makes him want to slap himself.

You could kill her, a voice suggests in his head, for just a millisecond, barely there. He has to control himself to not gag at the thought; he would rather kill himself than put a hand on you.

“Are- are you leaving again?” you ask in a faint voice. He’s sure you can feel him as much as he can feel you, and he tries to push your presence away from his mind. You’re not supposed to be in his head.

No one is, not even you.

He only stares at you, noticing the faint bite mark he left on your shoulder. The expression on his face is probably not the best, because you swiftly cover yourself when you notice his gaze. He sighs, before shrugging with a chuckle.

“You’re the one in my room,” he says, fighting the urge to cringe. The words are out before he can second guess himself more. “Why should I be the one leaving?” The expression on your face and the emotions that he feels in his mind are almost too much to bear. He tries to hide them as best as he can but knows he’s unsuccessful when you scowl at him, a shine in your eyes.

“I know what you’re trying to do, so stop lying!” you’re on the verge of tears, and it makes his heart ache, “You have no right to say you want me and then push me away.”

“A lot of talk for someone who has been denying me since we first met!” he snaps back. He knows his words are hurting you but that’s what he wants; hurting others is familiar, hurting others makes sense. “What, you think you’re the only one allowed to have second thoughts? And what made you change your mind so fast uh, especially after you fucked Chishiya like a bitch in heat? Is my dick that good you fuck-”

Your palm hits his cheek with a sharp sound.

He was expecting it; he could feel it coming. You stare at him, tears streaming down your cheeks in an otherwise cold expression. But he can feel your sadness and anger. He’s reaching for you out of instinct before he can stop himself; to comfort you. But he was the one who hurt you. Part of him wanted to push you away, while the other part abominated the simple thought of it.

“You’re clearly well enough to take care of yourself,” you say as you get dressed in haste. Your tone is ice cold, but he catches on the slight tremble of your voice. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling; he knows he will stop you from leaving if he moves or looks at you, “Stay away from me,” you say over your shoulder as you slam the door close.

He wants to shoot something. Like, really fill something, preferably somebody, full of bullets. Or kick someone until they’re vomiting blood. Or just do something, whatever it is, to take his mind out of you,

But his head hurts and he can barely get out of bed. So he just lays there, hating himself and blaming everyone else for what he just did. He messed it up; he wanted to mess it up. He hates himself for it.

He has to go after you.

No, he doesn't. He doesn’t need you or wants you close.

Yes, he does.

He makes a frustrated sound before making an effort to stand up. His foot is still the thing that brings him pain the most. Most of his body is bandaged up, but he doesn’t need half of those anymore; most of his injuries are either healed or halfway there. He tries to get dressed as fast as he can, which is not saying much.

He’s about to leave to go after you when there’s a knock on the door. He opens it to see one of Hatter’s men.

“What the fuck do you want?” The young man just gulps while looking at him; at the rifle in his hand, more specifically.

“Uh, there's uh- there’s an executive meeting,” says the guy with a gulp, “They’re expecting you.”

“I’m busy, now fuck off.” He gets out and closes his door, pushing the man aside. Oh, someone give him the strength not to shoot the messenger. He starts walking when the man speaks again.

“Hmm, it's about the Omega...”

He doesn’t waste time answering, walking down the hallways as fast as he can without making his limp noticeable; he has a reputation to maintain after all. He catches your scent all the way to the meeting room and he knows he will find you inside.

He opens the door to find everyone already there, now looking at him. He keeps his head high, eyes locked on you sitting against the wall. You have been crying, he can see that. Your eyes are down, but your emotions are clear to him, now that you’re close to each other again. Disappointment, fear, shame.

You’re fucking scum, his wolf whispers to him. Yeah, he is.

He takes his usual seat at the table, at Aguni’s left. He can feel your eyes on the back of his head, and he has to control himself to not look back. Hatter is saying something, but he’s not listening; he doesn’t care. Chishiya sits in front of him, and just the sight of the man makes his blood boil. His finger twitches on the rifle’s trigger; with a simple click, the biggest of his worries will be gone. His eyes are suddenly on him, and the man smirks. Niragi has no doubt he knows what went on; everybody else in that room has at least an idea.

Your name being said snaps his attention to Hatter’s words.

“- Ann said. And I agree,” the man says, “You’re smart, you’re fast, and you’re alive. I think that qualifies you for a lower number. You can even become a militant if you want, I’m sure Niragi-”

“No-” you suddenly interrupt, “I mean, I’m fine with just going on games and helping Ann with what I can.” You sound hesitant, “If that's okay with you…?”

Hatter’s smile brightens, “Of course Y/N, whatever you feel like doing. You got the right to it, after all,” he says with a nod. “Also, nice work at the Ten of Spades, guys. From what Chishiya told me, you were very close to dying, Niragi.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, I wonder why…”

The rest of the meeting passes by in a blur. He can feel the occasional gaze on him, but no one tries to call his attention. He’s too focused on trying to get a grasp on his messed up emotions, while also trying to understand yours at the same time. You’re trying to hide from him, but he can still feel you in the back of his mind.

A nudge from Aguni snaps him back to reality, and he realizes the meeting is over. He looks behind him, but you’re already gone. He stands up with a grunt of pain and follows you; he needs to talk to you. He rounds a corner to find you speaking with Chishiya. You immediately sense him close, turning around to face him. Chishiya gives him a condescending smile before whispering something to you and walking away. It would be so easy to shoot the man in the back; what is stopping him anyway? He raises his rifle just an inch before your hand snaps and pushes the gun away.

“Stop that!” you say, eyes locked on his.

“You know he tried to kill me, right?” he says, lowering the rifle. “I’m just trying to return the favor.” He tries to touch your arm, but you take a step back. It hurts him more than he cares to admit, “What were you two talking about?”

“About how you rejected me and practically kicked me out of your room after we had sex,” you say, a bite to your words he doesn’t fail to notice. He can feel your anger. “He offered to take care of my problem for you, isn’t that so nice of him?”

The fuck he will. He grabs your arm and pushes you against the wall, hand firmly around your throat. He can’t feel your fear, and it only makes him angrier.

“I’ve been way too good to you,” he doesn’t really mean the words that come out of his mouth. He tries to control his shaking hand, “If you choose him, I’ll kill you both. Don’t fucking try me.”

Your eyes never leave his. He can feel a spark of rebelliousness in you. It both excites him and angers him even more.

“I’m not choosing either of you,” you say. He knows you’re not completely sincere either, “You can suck each other’s dicks, for all I care. I’m done with both of you.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle, “You seem to forget that I can smell you.” Your eyes widened slightly, “You have what, three days before you’re in heat? What makes you think I’m gonna let you get out of that one unbound? Because I won’t, and that fucking dog sure won’t either.”

“Fuck- “

“-You?” he says, nose grazing your neck. He can feel your pulse fastening. “I will, you can bet your fine ass on that.” He can sense the confusion in you. He’s confused too; part of him wants that connection that only a bonded couple can have, while the other fears everything that comes with it. But he’s mad, he’s in pain, and he wants you. He does.

So he kisses you. You taste and smell like him, your scents mixing perfectly; it’s addicting. He can’t get enough of you. He forces his tongue inside your mouth and you let him, arms going around his neck to play with his air. One moment you’re pushing against him, the other you’re pushing him away.

“No, this is madness!” you exclaim. He sees the unshed tears in your eyes, “I’m not doing this anymore, get off me.”

“Y/N- “

“Don’t touch me!” you swat his hands away, “I told you before and I’m telling you now;l,” you’re fully crying, tears streaming down your face, “I am not going to have the miserable life my parents had! You made your choice earlier, now let me make mine!”

“Y/N I- “

“No, shut up and listen to me,” you point a finger at his chest, and he has to control himself not to touch you. “I understand how overwhelming this is for you too, but you have no right to say the things you said to me. Unless you’re here to apologize, I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m not a toy, Niragi.” He looks away, somewhere above your head. He can’t bring himself to say it, even though he knows you’re right. “If this is the behavior I can expect from you in a relationship, then forget it,” you say in a low tone, stepping away. “I’ll be in my room if you decide to apologize.”

He sees you walk away; he knows that following you will only make things worse. He never felt that he needed to have this much control over himself. Before you arrived, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted with no consequences; he could fuck, drink, kill, and torture as much as he wished. Now he can barely do anything without being afraid of what you will think of him. He wants your approval and acceptance more than ever, and it pisses him off.

“Having trouble with the Omega?” he doesn’t have to turn around to know that is Last Boss. He nods once and the man proceeds. “Want help persuading her? Make her more...compliant.”

Niragi considers it for just a second before shaking his head. He might not know you well, but he knows you more than you think; ‘persuading’ you would bring him nothing but a headache. Why couldn’t you be the submissive and shy Omega they talk about in books? It would make his life so much easier.

But he does enjoy a challenge. Winning your heart and body is more than enough motivation for him.

Even if he has to fight himself to have you.

Next Chapter

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #niragi fic #niragi x reader #also on ao3

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krabstick32 · 4 years

Text

Your Hand in Marriage

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: Headcanon/scenario for how Giyuu proposed...how he asked you to marry him...how he popped the question

Tags/warnings: There is slight mention of near-death, but yes, all fluff apart from that!! Also, this can be taken as modern or during canon timeline, whichever works really

a/n: again, thank you so much for requesting anon!! apologies for taking so long :((( i hope you like it though 🥺

LINK to the ask: Request by Anon

anyway, please enjoy!! <33

When he knew you were the one, marriage was always in the back of his mind

You made him yearn for something he feels like could never have

He dreamed of living a quiet, peaceful life with you, to build a warm home and a loving family

And he wanted it so badly

But he couldn’t

Not when he lived the life of a demon slayer—a pillar no less!—not when they were fighting a literal war against the demons who brought so much pain to him, to you, to so many people

He didn’t want his family grow in a world where demon exists

You two talked about this already

And you’ve both agreed that you’re all fine with not getting married even if both of you wanted it more than anything

Your jobs were dangerous—one wrong move could mean death

Both of you entered the corps knowing the consequences, and have made peace with that fact

I mean, you were open to getting married to him

and as much as he loves you, a lot

He didn't want marriage if it only leads to you dying

this man has experienced so much loss already, he can’t lose you too.

And you respected that. You didn’t care much for labels.

Marriage was, in essence, just a piece of paper to prove your relationship, and you knew that you loved each other too much to let a mere document dictate your relationship.

You don’t mind just staying as boyfriend and girlfriend, you’ll take whatever he’s willing to give

One day, on his way home (to you uwu), he passes by a jewelry store, and sees the ring

Now, Giyuu was never an impulsive buyer, but the ring was perfect.

He could clearly picture it on your left ring finger and—

Oops, he now has a ring in his pocket

It would either be a real classy ring—you know, the classic engagement ring with a yellow gold band and a sizable diamond in the middle

A unique and pretty ring that reminds him of you—a ring designed with sapphires and diamonds.

(only the best for u after all uwu)

We all know man´s rich enough for it

(giyuu is a pillar. he can literally afford to buy everyone in the corps this ring, and still have left over money to have a lifetime supply of salmon daikon if he wanted to.)

When he got home, his stupidly impulsive buy just dawned on him and u bet he was awkward with you until he found the sneakiest hiding spot for it

((it was hidden underneath a shingle on the roof—a little overkill honestly))

Anyway, all was normal

But Gods, everything changed when the fire nation attacked when you were called to the Butterfly Wing.

He was finishing up on a mission with another pillar, Shinazugawa, and four other slayers (ranked kinoe’s and kinoto’s) when they ran into an upper moon.

And surprisingly, all of these slayers came home, bruised and a lot bloody, but alive.

As you were listening to the report at the Ubuyashiki estate for a meeting, you were relieved to hear that—six demon slayers, all alive after an encounter with an upper moon!!—but when you heard the entire report, your stomach dropped in dread and you dead-ass sprinted out the door to go straight into the butterfly wing.

(You can apologize to the Oyakata-sama later though he was a second away from shooing you out the door)

Because Giyuu—

Giyuu was there

Your stupid, brave, lovable Giyuu,

Threw himself in front of his fellow slayers to take the brunt of the hit with lull, and so very nearly died when he got hit by the demon’s blood art.

It worked though, because now, the demon got distracted, giving the others ample time to deal with the minions

Once Sanemi and the others were able to lop its head off, the kakushi arrived promptly and rushed everyone back to the butterfly estate.

He woke up after a week. That was the extent of the damage brought to him by that near fatal blow.

First thing he saw was you

You were sound asleep right by his bed, slouched over the visitor’s chair in a position Giyuu knew was anything but comfortable. He was quick to note the dark circles under your eyes, briefly wondering how long you were there. You looked a little cold, so he moved to place the extra blanket from his bedside over you, but you immediately stir when you felt the slightest movement.

“Giyuu? Sweetheart, are you…?”

Seeing him awake felt like a huge bucket of water was poured over you. Any trace of sleep was gone from your body—you were wide awake in a flash, relieved and grateful that he was alive.

“Hello—“ His voice was a little raspier than either of you liked, but yours however, was fine, and healthy enough to to speak your mind.

“You dumbass!” You hiss, throwing him a light glare.“Do you know how worried I was? How scared I was? I thought I was going to lose you!”

“I’m sorry.” He says, and squirms slightly under your gaze. He would’ve looked away, but he’s missed you a lot. Wasting a few seconds from cowering in slight shame and a little fear would be unbecoming of a Pillar.

“Don’t say sorry!” You were trying so hard to look stern and mad, but having the love of your life nearly taken away from you? You nearly lost him—all you wanted was to just touch him, and never let him go.

Tears start slipping down your eyes before you could stop yourself. Without a word, you wrap your arms over his neck, nearly straddling him as you buried your face in his neck. You try to memorize how his body felt against yours, clinging to him like your life depended on it—and in a way, it did.

“You!—don’t ever do that to me again!” You cry, being mindful of his injuries as you hold him tighter. Neither of you make mention of how his hospital clothes were starting to grow damp. “If you die and leave me alone, I swear to the gods—!”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, because what else can he say? He wasn’t aware of how close he was to losing you, until he woke up from the week-long coma. He made you sad, and worry over him, and he never wants to see you cry ever again. He brings you closer against his chest, and says a silent thank you to whatever god let him live.

“You better be!” You mumble.

“I am. I missed you.” He drops his head against your shoulder, and holds you tighter against him.

Still mindful of his injuries, you return his hug tenfold. “I missed you too.”

Neither of you let go until Shinobu and Aoi dropped by to clean and redress his wounds.

Afterwards though neither of you left each other’s side (I mean, it’s not like Giyuu could, but you get my point),

Anyway, even if one of the butterfly girls or even Shinobu came in to give him meds—

He would always be touching you

Holding pinkies, even holding hands, which was a surprising, since he wasn’t much for PDA.

Another surprising fact was that Shinobu would only tease him no more than eight times per visit, when she would usually tease him nonstop.

You didn’t leave him for the entire week he needed to recover, unless it was for a mission (Oyakata-sama was very kind in giving you lighter, and easier missions—easy for you, hard for lower ranked slayers)

That night, you definitely stayed in his room (one of the pillars was kind enough to take over your patrol. it was Mitsuri), and slept right by his side.

As you slept, he watches the careful rise and fall of your chest.

You looked so peaceful that he starts daydreaming about what could be—a future with you.

His near death experience made him realize that if he didn’t marry you, it would be one of the greatest mistakes of his life.

You taught him to live life to its fullest, to live without regrets

And he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t get to call you his wife, even if it was just for a day.

The demons have taken so much from him already—his sister, his best friend

They’ve already taken too much

He’s not going to let the demons take away any more of his happiness

SO YES

This was the moment he finally decided to ask you to be his wife.

took him long enough

Giyuu knew that he wasn’t the best at communication

And he was really worried about you not wanting to marry him anymore. It’s been a while since that conversation after all

He wanted things to be as clear as spring water before even popping the question

So he decides to ask you.

He brings you out to the engawa and sits there with you, enjoying the night breeze and the view

You’d look very pretty under the moonlight and aaaaa

He wonders how he ever managed to control himself from asking you to marry him earlier

Because right now

Giyuu has half the mind to just beg you to marry him

He brings it up bluntly carefully,

“...How do you feel about marrying me?”

He brought it up bluntly.

You’re used to it though (you didn’t even bat an eyelash—what a champ), so you take it in stride.

“What I said before still stands, sweetheart. I would love nothing more than to be your wife, but if you’re not ready—“

“I am.”

Your neck almost snaps with how fast your head turns to look at Giyuu. He wasn’t far, just a few inches of space between your bodies, but you could feel his comforting warmth, and could clearly see his expression despite it being night.

“Are you serious?” You knew he was—Giyuu never was the type to joke—but you couldn’t help but ask. You knew he loved you, you knew he wanted to be with you for as long as possible, but him asking to marry you? Both of you talked about this, and you respected what he wanted and his reasons behind it, so whatever this was? It all felt too good to be true that you wanted to pinch yourself.

“Yes.” Giyuu carefully takes your hands and uses his thumb to trace soothing circles onto the skin of your palm. “If you’re fine with someone like me...” He places his forehead on top of yours and your heart just...picks up the pace. You’re sure he could hear how fast it was beating, while you’re made aware of the fact that your eyes were starting to get teary because everything looked so blurry.

“Marry me, (F/N)?”

Him wanting to know if you still wanted a marriage with him, turned into an actual proposal

But neither of you minded

It felt perfect

You burst into a loud, giddy laugh, the happy smile on your lips wide enough to reach your ears. The tears start spilling over as you nod your head vigorously, repeating the word “Yes!” like it was the only word you could say.

Giyuu’s mouth curls into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen on him, and continues to grow each time you ‘yes’. He puts the ring on your finger and you're struck by how pretty it is, feeling a sense of rightness wash over you. He feels it too as both of you take a moment to look at how perfect the fit is, before you look back up at him.

By the gods, he looked so handsome with that smile on his face, you couldn’t take it. You bring your hands to cup his face, and kiss him for all you were worth. HIs hands wrap around your waist, and you grip the nape of his neck, savoring the feeling of his comforting warmth pressed against you. As both of you pressed your lips against each other, neither of you could stop smiling—you were both so happy.

“You’ll marry me?”

“I’ll marry you right now, if it was possible.”

“You really want to marry me?”

“I always did. I feel stupid for making you wait so long.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart, I understand why.”

He pulls away a little, pouting. “But I could’ve been calling you my wife earlier.”

“And I could’ve been calling you my husband earlier,” You tease “but here we are.”

“...Maybe we can find a priest right now.”

You laugh and smack his shoulder. “We waited a few years, I’m sure we can wait for a few months.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment.

“Giyuu?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” You really do.

He smiles softly, taking your left hand and kissing the back of your hand. “I love you too.” He really does.

For better or for worse

During the next Pillar meeting, everyone definitely notices your ring

a/n: i would like to marry this man please and thank you (′ꈍωꈍ‵)💖

I have another request in the works, but if you liked this headcanon, maybe you’d like to see a continuation! I’ve got some ideas stocked up for “how they met”, “how they got married”, or maybe “how the other pillars react to your engagement”... anyways feel free to drop a request!

apologies in advance if it takes me another month 😔

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