#it's not just him he's thinking of now and it's not just the most concrete costs either

[alvojake]

The Murder House | Pt. Two

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆

「synopsis」 : with everyone's lives on the line, will luck be on your side? except it seems like whoever trapped you here doesn't plan on letting any of you leave that easy... suspicion is rising, and trust is starting to falter, but can you save everyone and bust whoever put you and your friends through this hell?

「word count」 : 11.3k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, spiders/bugs, water, blood, mentions of betrayal, arguments, mentions of claustrophobia & arachnophobia/entomophobia, mentions of spider venom, life or death situations, more mind games, mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, breakdowns, etc...), (some tags will be hidden as to not spoil the story!)

Jay groaned as he opened his eyes, his hand instantly going to his head, trying to soothe the dull pounding behind his eyes. Riki, who had just been shaking the older male, looked down at him before moving back, letting him sit up. As the throbbing died down, Jay’s brain swirled with questions once more, how many times had they been drugged at this point? Where had they been taken now? And most importantly, where was everyone else?

“Where are we?” Jay asked, voice hoarse from the lack of any fluid, his eyes scanning the room. “And where’s y/n?” Riki watched him with an unreadable expression but rolled his eyes when he wasn’t looking.

The walls looked as if they were made out of concrete, water stains dripping down from the ceiling. The ground was solid and cold under Jay’s palms, sending a shiver up his spine. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought this was some kind of dungeon. 

“I’m not sure.” Riki’s voice was low as he glanced over his shoulder, “looks like some kind of basement.” 

Jay scrunched his eyebrows at the boy’s calm tone. He knew that Riki had always been exceptional at hiding his emotions. This, however, he would think would warrant at least a tremor in his voice, but there was nothing.

The last thing Jay wanted was to throw any more accusations at anyone, let alone his little brother, so he just brushed it off. Standing on his feet, he dusted his jeans off before he heard what sounded like chains rattling on the other side of the room. Both Riki and Jay’s heads snapped over in that direction, and their eyes grew wide.

There, in a room separated by a glass window, sat Heeseung, hands cuffed to the arms of a chair. Pure fear and panic painted his face, which was only mirrored onto Sunghoon’s as Jay looked over at the taller male. 

Sunghoon stood in front of the window, fear etched into his features as he looked at Heeseung. His heart was beating at what seemed to be a million miles an hour. His eyes never strayed from the older male as Jay and Riki walked up to join him.

Heeseung’s panicked eyes move over to Jay when he comes into view, arms straining against their restraints, “Jay, what’s the fuck is going on?” His voice was higher in pitch as he yanked on the cuffs once more, but just like his last attempts, they proved to be fruitless.

Jay’s words caught in his throat as he started to realize what was going on. This was another game. 

Sunghoon saw movement in the corner of his eye, causing him to look up. He felt his blood run cold. Above Heeseung was a crate of spiders, at least a couple dozen crawling all over each other. Seeing the creatures made his skin crawl, and his mouth went dry as he tried to speak.

“I don’t wanna panic anyone, but…” He spoke quietly, pointing to the tub of spiders, which caused all eyes to follow. Jay’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull while Riki licked his lips. However, Heeseung…

“Guys, get me the fuck outta here! I mean it!” Heeseung started to panic, roughly pulling on his restraints. His heart beating so loudly it was deafening, his body starting to shake as sweat coated his skin. Bile crept up his throat the longer he kept looking at the creatures that hung over his head. Spiders had always, always freaked Heeseung out, going as far as jumping on the couch, nearly falling right on Sunghoon when he found a tiny one on his apartment floor, begging you to kill it.

“Ahhh, everyone is already awake,” A distorted voice cuts through the speakers in the room, causing all four of the boys to jump; Heeseung stopped moving, his hands still trembling. “Hello, gentlemen, and welcome to game number two! Let’s get straight into it, ya? Your last rooms may have been easy peasy lemon squeezy, but that doesn’t quite travel over.” Sunghoon’s eyes flicker all over the room, trying to find the source of the voice, “now you better put on your running shoes because you’ll have to move quickly if you wanna get your friend outta there, otherwise, well, he’ll experience a pain like no other.” Just then a big screen powers on, displaying a timer, the numbers frozen. “Good luck! Oh, and don’t let the bugs bite!” The voice then cut out, and a spotlight clicked on, showing a lockbox on a table that sat right under the screen.

Then the timer started. Jay’s heart dropped, his feet glued to the spot on the ground, his ears ringing loudly. Sunghoon’s horrified face shifts back to Heeseung, who is staring at the ground by his feet. Riki watches Sunghoon from the corner of his eye, studying his expression, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

Sunghoon swallowed thickly before looking between Riki and Jay, “how can we be sure that the spiders will actually drop?” His voice shook, hands trembling at his sides, “or if they’re even venomous?” 

Jay couldn’t help but glare at the younger male, “Are you dense or something, dude? They have literally drugged us. Twice! What makes you think they won’t drop those spiders on him, huh?” The tone in Jay’s voice caused Sunghoon to recoil, flinching slightly.

“I’m just saying there’s a possibi-” “Those look like Sydney funnel-web spiders, highly venomous.” Riki cut Sunghoon off, causing both of them to look over at him, “if that many were to bite him at once, he’d die in five minutes tops.” he explained, voice trembling slightly as he looked over, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes, gleam in his pupils. “We’d need an ass ton of anti-venom, and that’s if there is any.”

At the new information, Heeseung felt his blood run cold. His arms violently tugged at his restaurants, and tears started to brim in his eyes. His attention then turned to Sunghoon, who was still looking at Riki.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” Heeseung seethed, sending a deadly glare toward the dark-haired male, “Lock us in some fucking sick and twisted games just to kill us off, just like you did the hacker. Is this what you get off to?”

Sunghoon’s eyes blew wide at Heeseung’s accusations, hurt contorting his face into a glare of his own. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? What fucking hacker?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb; we found your bracelet on the dead guy's body.” Heeseung scoffed, tugging on the restraints once more, “thought you could hide it, huh? Well, news flash, if you’re gonna kill someone, try not to lose any of your belongings on the body!”

“My bracelet? My bracelet is on my…” Sunghoon’s words trailed on as he held his hand up, shocked eyes right on the spot where his bracelet would normally be sitting.

“Oh, cat got your tongue? Yeah, we caught your ass red fucking handed.” Heeseung’s words dripped venom, eyes burning with rage.

Sunghoon glared at the older male, his body starting to shake due to anger and embarrassment. Riki watched the two go at each other, standing just a few feet away while Jay tried to concentrate on finding the pieces of clues they needed.

“Yeah and how do we know that you didn’t plant the bracelet on the body, huh?” Sunghoon turned the accusation around on Heeseung, “How do we know you're not the one behind all of this?” 

Heeseung laughed in disbelief, “Yeah because I would totally cuff myself to a chair under a box of the most venomous spiders IN THE FUCKING WORLD!” He shouted, yanking the cuffs and ignoring the pain that shot up his arm.

“Who knows, maybe this is just another tactic to throw us off your trail!” Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed, and that’s when Jay finally had enough, stepping over to the three.

“Stop. Both of you, this is fucking ridiculous.” Jay interjected a glare of his own, adoring his face, “We don’t have all the time in the world to sit here and argue about who’s behind all of this. You two bickering like a damn pair of street cats is only wasting time.” He shot a glare at Heeseung, too, who just shook his head, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “And you, why the fuck are you just standing there? This isn’t some telnova you can just sit back and watch, we need to find these clues.”

Sunghoon scoffs, nodding his head before looking over at Jay, pointing a finger at his chest, “And what about you?”

Caught off guard, Jay raises an eyebrow, “what about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you seem pretty damn calm considering everything that’s happening,” Sunghoon stated in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Jay’s eyes to narrow into slits.

“One of our closest friends is sitting under a fucking ticking time bomb; I have no other choice than to be calm, Sunghoon.” Jay fumed, pointing a finger in Heeseung’s direction.

“How can you even be sure that they’ll actually drop?” Sunghoon resorted once again.

“Can you guarantee they won’t?” Jay asked, his undertone obviously showing that the trust he held for Sunghoon was starting to dwindle. His eyes were hard as he stared at the younger boy, who suddenly went silent. “Exactly, but if you’re okay with just sitting back and watching as one of your best friends sits on the brink of death, then be my fucking guest, but don’t expect anyone to come to save your sorry ass when it’s you in his position.” 

Sunghoon looks at Jay in complete disbelief, his hands trembling at his sides as heat rushes up his neck. He held eye contact with Jay, waiting to see if he would realize just how messed up what he said was, but when Sunghoon realized that he wasn’t going to, he looked away with a scoff.

“So quick to throw the blame on me, but what about your innocent princess? How do you know she didn’t plant my fucking bracelet on the body?” Sunghoon sneers, causing Jay’s jaw to tighten.

“That’s a pretty low blow, Sunghoon, blaming my sister because you fucked up.” Riki glared at the older male, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t kill anyone,” Sunghoon growled, eyes shooting daggers at the boy.

“Oh, and my sister did?” Riki shot back, a look of pure disgust covering his features, “And to think she thinks of you as a friend.” He scoffs, shaking his head and Sunghoon laughs, eyes looking away from Riki.

“Your sister isn’t this princess you see her as Riki. She’s not as innocent as you may want to think she is.” Sunghoon said, a fire burning in his pupils.

Riki could feel a rage bubble up in his gut; however, before he could open his mouth to resort, Jay intervened.

“Knock it the hell off,” Jay exclaims, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulder. His patience is starting to wear thin.

Sunghoon just shrugged him off, glaring at him, “back off.”

That’s when that last little bit of patience that Jay had broken. Fed up with how Sunghoon was acting, Jay grabbed a hold of the boy's collar, pulling him close. “We are running out of time, so you can either hop off your high horse and help or shut up and get the fuck out of our way.”

Taken aback, Sunghoon shoves Jay off of him before taking a step back, his eyes narrowing. Heeseung sits quietly in his seat. The argument is like background noise as he lets his thoughts run wild.

“Did you do this, Sunghoon?” Heeseung’s voice was flat, with no sign of any emotion, head hung low. Sunghoon’s eyes snap over to him, opening his mouth to say no, but Heeseung cuts him off, “Then why was your bracelet on the body?” Heeseung lifted his head, and Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat; tears brimmed in the older male’s eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. “If I’m going to die here tonight, I at least want to know why.” Heeseung’s voice cracked, and the tears he fought so hard to hold back broke free, streaming down his cheeks and dripping from his chin.

Sunghoon was at a complete loss for words, the severity of everything finally starting to sink in. Tears of his own filled his eyes as he watched Heeseung break. 

“I didn’t kill anyone, I swear.” Sunghoon nearly choked on his words, “I don’t know why my bracelet was there, but it wasn’t me.” However, his words held very little importance to Heeseung, and Sunghoon could see the trust crumbling into fine dust. Sunghoon then walked closer to the window, placing his palm flat on the glass, “We’re gonna get you out of here, and we’re gonna get out of here alive, I promise.” Sunghoon’s voice shook, tears dripping from his eyelashes.

Heeseung just shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You shouldn’t make promises that you can’t keep, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon repeats his words once more before wiping the tears from his face and turning towards Jay. Taking a few steps, he called out to the older male, gaining his attention.

Jay turned, a glare still fixed on his face, “If you’re going to say some stupid shit again, I don’t wanna hear it.”

The younger boy just swallowed thickly, shaking his head, “What do you need me to do?”

Jay looked him up and down, scrutinizing him before holding a piece of paper up. " We need to find two more pages with these symbols on them. I already found two, and Riki is over there looking for another.” He explained, pointing over to the younger boy who was rummaging through a filing cabinet.

Sunghoon nodded quickly before turning and making his way over to the cabinets that lined the far wall, tearing them completely apart. His mind was going haywire, thoughts overshadowing themselves as he repeatedly told himself that he would get Heeseung out. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed the eyes that were watching him.

Riki peeked over his shoulder, seeing that both Jay and Sunghoon were too immersed in trying to find more of the code to be paying him any mind, and Heeseung’s eyes were trained on the floor by his feet, lost in his mind. Curing his fingers around whatever sat in his palm, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets just as Jay turned around.

The silver-haired male nodded at Sunghoon as he handed him the piece of paper that he had found before turning towards the younger boy.

“Have you found anything yet?” Jay asked, and Riki just shook his head, tightening his fist in his pocket. He had to bite his tongue as he listened to Jay grumble out a few curses before telling Sunghoon to keep looking. His head turned back to the timer, watching the seconds tick away.

~

The three of them completely tore the room apart, trying to find the last piece of the code. Sunghoon was starting to grow frustrated because he was sure that they had searched every single nook and cranny of the room but had yet to see any sign of it. Jay chewed on the nail of his thumb, trying to think of any other place they could look, while Riki continued to search through the cabinet on the opposite wall of Jay.

Heeseung lay his head back on the chair, eyes closed, thinking back to his childhood and all of the memories he’d made over the past few years. He was always a quiet kid when he was younger, never really feeling like he fit in anywhere. He was always sitting in the back of the class, staring out the window as music played through his headphones. Then he met Sunghoon in middle school.

Sunghoon was a new transfer student, perceived to be this quiet, cold guy who barely spoke a word to anyone. The only thing that anyone knew was that he could always be found at the ice rink or in the park with his camera. Heeseung saw himself in the boy, and he knew just how lonely it got, so he started to talk to Sunghoon every day regardless if the younger wanted him to or not. One day, Sunghoon stopped fighting him, and they became close friends, then they met Jay in high school. Then his mind went to when he first met you; you and Riki had just moved into his apartment complex, and you were carrying boxes up the stairs and almost fell. Thankfully for you, maybe not so much Heeseung, he was walking right behind you on his phone until you fell back, right into him. He managed to grab both you and the railing in time before either of you could fall; however, his phone didn’t quite make it safely.

“Ya know there’s safer ways to fall for me.” He teased you, watching as your face started turning red. You had apologized and promised to fix his phone, but he just chuckled, telling you that it was fine before helping you lug all of your belongings into your apartment, where Riki was waiting for you. From there, the two of you become inseparable, leading you to introduce him to Jake and Sunoo, and he introduces you to the other guys.

Everything was picture-perfect. Sure, you all have your ups and downs, but what friend group doesn’t? So he was left with the question of why. Why were you guys brought to this point? What had caused this? Where did they do wrong?

Heeseung lifted his head just as Jay walked in front of the window, “Jay.” His voice was hoarse from holding back tears but was still heard by the silver-haired male, causing him to stop and look over at Heeseung, “Do me a favor and tell y/n that I’m sorry for being so mean, ya?”

Jay felt his heart drop when he realized what Heeseung was implying; shaking his head, he told him no, “You can tell her yourself, dumbass, we’re getting you out.”  

However, Heeseung just shook his head softly, a small, sad smile playing on his chapped lips. The light that used to always gleam in his eyes was slowly vanishing. This broke Jay’s heart because he knew that his closest friend was accepting the fact that he may not make it out of there alive.

“There’s only fifteen minutes left, Jay. I’m not getting out of here.” Heeseung’s words stung Jay to the depths of his soul. Tears that he was trying to keep at bay started to spill over, flowing down his flushed cheeks. “Tell my mom that I love her and to make sure to look after herself.”

Jay wiped his face after finally realizing that he was crying, glaring at Heeseung, “Shut up, we’re getting you out of here.” His voice shook, willing himself to keep from breaking down, not even sure who he was really trying to reassure Heeseung or himself.

Sunghoon was rushing around the room, his heart beating in his ears and he tore apart places that he had already looked in multiple times. He knew that the last piece had to be around here somewhere, it couldn’t be gone, it just couldn’t. Turning around, his eyes landed on the younger boy who hadn't moved from that one side of the room.

“Riki, are you sure you haven’t found anything?” His voice came out a lot louder than he had intended, causing Riki to look over at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“Are you saying I was lying? I have been looking this whole time just like the two of you.” Riki sneered, glaring at the dark-haired male.

“Fuck, no, sorry.” Sunghoon curses, running his fingers through his hair, avoiding Riki’s harsh gaze before making his way over to the lockbox.

He grabbed the lock with shaky hands, inspecting the pattern of symbols on the dial. Running his fingers over the grooves, he turned around and found Jay hunched over another table, deep in his thoughts.

“Couldn’t we just try to guess the code?”

Both Riki and Jay looked over at the boy, Jay’s face devoid of any emotion as tears rolled down his cheeks, while Riki’s was stoic almost as if he wasn’t fully there.

“There are way too many possibilities, not to mention we don’t even have the last piece, so it’ll make it ten times harder,” Riki stated, pulling his lips into a thin line when he saw Sunghoon’s face drop.

“We don’t have the time for it anyway.” Jay’s voice cracked, eyes avoiding Sunghoon’s as he looked up at the timer, causing the other two to look over as well.

‘00:10:27’

Sunghoon felt the lump in his throat return, his body growing warm as a thin layer of sweat coated his icy skin. His ears were ringing so loud he couldn’t hear anything other than the high-pitched sound. Turning around, he started trying any combination on the lock that he could think of that involved the three pieces that they already had. Mixtures of curses and cries fell from his lips every time one of them turned out to be wrong.

Jay pushed himself off of the table before rummaging through the cabinets for the nth time, a small inkling of hope that he’d be able to find it. His hands shook so back that he could barely grab onto anything, his vision blurry as the tears fell from his lashes endlessly.

Riki moved from his spot, standing in front of the window to meet Heeseung’s gaze, who offered him a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The younger boy stood there with a solemn look on his face, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket.

“Hey Riki,” Heeseung’s voice was merely above a whisper, but the boy heard it nonetheless. "Take care of your sister. She’s going to need you after tonight.”

Riki swallows thickly, nodding his head, “always.”

Heeseung nods his head slowly, his smile never leaving his face. His eyes then travel to the other two, Sunghoon’s movements frantic when he realizes just how quickly time is running out. Jay moves over to the cabinet that Riki has been looking through, throwing everything to the ground as he searches it.

“Guys,” Heeseung calls out to them, but neither of them pays him any mind, not wanting to hear anything he has to say. Their hope was hanging on by a thread, but they were going to try their damnedest, even to the very last second. Heeseung bit the inside of his cheek, his heart rate speeding up as he watched the seconds tick by. “Listen to me, dammit!”

‘00:01:25

Sunghoon and Jay reluctantly looked away from what they were doing, tears stinging their eyes as they met the older male’s eyes. Heeseung looked between them with a sorrowful look, his eyes glancing over to Sunghoon, “I’m sorry for accusing you, Hoon; I know you’d never do that.” Tears started to spill from Heeseung’s bloodshot eyes; Sunghoon bit his lip, shaking his head.

‘00:01:02’

“It’s okay, Hee. I’m sorry for lashing out.” Sunghoon’s voice shook, fresh tears brimming his eyes. His heart felt as if someone was stabbing multiple tiny little knives into it before leaving it to bleed out. Was he really going to lose his best friend like this? The first person who actually saw him as a person?

“Water under the bridge, right?” Heeseung’s voice was soft, not a single ounce of malice causing Sunghoon’s heart to lurch, nodding his head too afraid his words would fail him.

‘00:00:54’

Heeseung’s eyes then moved over to Jay, who was standing there, lip trapped between his teeth, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Jay, go and ask y/n out when y’all make it out of here, ya?”

Jay felt dizzy, blinking harshly to try and clear the tears that had built up on his waterline. Licking his chapped lips, he nods, “Yeah…” His voice trails on the first tear, dropping, allowing the others to follow. His whole body shook as he watched his best friend look over at Riki, all the thoughts of their past circulating in his mind. His heart was cracking little by little until it was completely shattered, the shards cutting everything around it. Was this really going to be the end of their friendship? Was it really going to end before they got the chance to be each other's best man at their weddings? Before they could watch their kids grow up together?

‘00:00:42’

Riki refused to meet Heeseung’s eyes, keeping them glued to the ground right by his feet. His mind was swirling with thoughts, but his face remained unchanged even when Heeseung coaxed him to look up.

“You’re a good kid, Riki. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I know your sister may give you a hard time, but she loves you. So much.” Heeseung’s voice then cracked, “I will always be with you guys. Feel free to take any of my games from the apartment. I wouldn't want them to go to waste.” Tears were flowing down Heeseung’s flushed cheeks as he offered the boy a small smile.

Riki didn’t say a word, his jaw clenched tightly. His eyes seemed to have darkened as he altered his gaze, the tips of his ears turning a shade of scarlet red. How was he going to explain all of this to his sister? How was he going to be able to sit there watching as she sobbed over the death of her ‘friends’?

‘00:00:27’

Heeseung closed his eyes, allowing tears to fall from the corner of his eyes. Little snippets of his life flashed behind his eyelids, allowing him to cherish those memories one last time before they were all lost to time. He inhaled, shaky, before opening his eyes to look at his friend once more. 

‘00:00:09’

“Thank you for everything, for dealing with my annoying ass, for allowing me to be your friend, for allowing me to find a place where I belong.” Heeseung smiled weakly, “Thank you for being my family.”

Time felt like it had stopped when the timer buzzed, and the crate opened, allowing the spiders to drop. The creatures scattered all over Heeseung’s body, some biting as soon as they landed. His lip was caught between his teeth, trying his best to muffle any sounds that escaped his lungs, eyes screwed shut as pain erupted all over his body. His jaw fell slack as screams of pure agony echoed all around the room. Each bite he received seemed to be ten times worse than the last, leaving his skin to feel like it was being set ablaze. His arms involuntarily jerked against the restraints in any attempt to get out, but he couldn’t.

Sunghoon felt like he was going to be sick as he watched the insects latch themself onto any exposed skin Heeseung had shown before turning his head, hand covering his mouth. Riki averted his gaze, hands clenching into fists in the pockets of his jacket once more. Jay watched in utter disbelief, tears rolling down his face as he watched and listened to Heeseung start to quiet until they were merely an echo in his brain, and his body lay still, his skin red and irritated as bumps started to show from the multitude of bites.

Then a shutter came down, blocking Heeseung’s mutilated body from their view. Jay was rooted to the same spot, eyes on his reflection that started right back at him. Sunghoon takes a small step back before dropping down to the ground, head in his hands, pure terror and shock etched on his face. Riki continued to stare at the wall just beside the window, his face voice of any emotion, but there was a slight gleam in his eyes, fingers fidgeting with the slip of paper in his pocket.

Jay then shouted out of pure rage and pain, completely clearing the table of the lockbox and papers. Tears continued to stream down his face as he hit the table a few times until his knuckles were bruised and swollen. A string of cusses left his lips until they died down into quiet sobs as his head hung low.

The sound of a beep echoed in the deadly silent room, causing Jay and Riki to look up; Sunghoon stayed crouched down, mumbling incoherently. Jay felt a newfound sense of rage bubble up in his chest as he read the words on the screen.

‘GAME OVER – BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!!’

Just then, the lock on their door clicks, signaling that they are allowed to leave; being the closest to it, Riki grabs the handle, pulling it open. He looked down the dimly lit hallway seeing no sign of anyone else before looking back at the other two. Sunghoon was unmoving, fingers knotted in his hair as he stared at the window, while Jay’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen, his mind running a million miles an hour.

Riki swallowed thickly before opening his mouth to speak, “We should probably go find the others.” His voice was quiet as the weight of the room started to set in on him.

Heeseung was gone.

It had been about five minutes since the timer had started, and the water turned on. Five minutes since you and Jungwon scrambled to search the nearest cabinet. Five minutes of Sunoo watching you silently, his brain mulled with thoughts.

You had torn almost every book, decoration, file, paper, or other item out of the cabinet. Mumbling small curses to yourself as your hand slipped, almost causing you to cut your palm on the corner, Jungwon looked over. Hearing your small grunt of pain, worry flickered in his eyes.

“Hey, I found something!” Jake exclaims, holding up a box. "There’s some kind of combination lock on it.” He sets the box down just as you and Jungwon walk over, moving out of the way.

“There’s probably two other boxes like this,” Jungwon states, eyes flickering up to you before moving to Jake.

You quickly nodded, looking between both of the boys, telling them to continue looking for the other boxes. The three of you then split off once more, tearing the room apart for the other objects, knowing they held the key to getting Sunoo out of the box he was in.

Before too long both of the other boxes had been found, you and Jungwon setting them on the table next to the one that Jake had found. You stood there looking at them, thinking about your next course of action despite the shaking of your hands. Jake stood next to you, his hand lightly placed on your lower back, causing a chill to run down your spine.

“Do you think the codes are the same?” Jake asked, bottom lip caught between his teeth, his hand still on you.

Becoming uncomfortable with the way his fingers were curling around the fabric of your shirt, you took a step away, putting a good distance between the two of you. “I doubt it,” you cleared your throat, looking everywhere but the brunette’s eyes. " The codes are probably hidden around the room, too.”

Jake’s jaw clenched as he tried his best to push the annoyance down, nodding his head. You swallowed thickly before returning his nod and turning around to walk away, leaving the boy to watch you with gleaming eyes.

He ran his tongue over his teeth before turning and walking over to another filing cabinet, pulling the drawer open quite roughly. Jungwon watched with furrowed brows, clearly confused by Jake’s reaction and wondering why he started acting so hostile. However, he pushed it to the side, deciding to deal with it later, whenever they all got out.

It had taken about five minutes before you scrambled to your feet, exclaiming that you had found one of the codes, catching both of the boys’ attention. Quickly making your way over to the table where the boxes were sitting you showed Jugwon the page before bending down to start unlocking the lock. However, your hands shook with so much force that it was causing the lock to slip from your fingers. Tears were blurring your vision, which only added to your struggle, causing you to let out a few curses.

Noticing your struggle, Jake walks over and places a soft hand on your shoulder. " Hey, just slow down. You’re rushing too much.”

Scoffing, you shrugged his hand off, turning to glare at him. “Slow down? Jake, he is in there with running water, I don’t have the time to slow down!” You pointed a finger in Sunoo’s direction, “We need to get the keys out so we can unlock that fucking box before he drowns!”

Jake was taken aback by your outburst, but the shock quickly shifted to annoyance, “yeah, we do need to get the keys out, but you seem to be incapable of doing so with all of your shaking.” He rolled his eyes, and you opened your mouth to retort, but he beat you to it, “No one is going to yell at you for not going fast enough; we’re not your parents, for fucks sake, y/n.”

Your jaw fell slack, and all of the words you were going to say died on your tongue as you stared at the male in utter disbelief. Jungwon stood off to the side with a nervous look on his face, unsure of how to defuse the situation.

“Hey guys, let’s not-”

“That's a real fucking low blow, Jake,” Your tone was full of hurt as you glared at him before turning back to the boxes.

Jake just scoffs, rolling his eyes, “god, I forgot how much of a damn drama queen you are.”

Jungwon looked at Jake in surprise while you tried your best to ignore him. Your jaw clenched tightly as you unlocked the box. You pulled the lid open before taking the key that was sitting inside and pocketing it. Sending Jake one last glare, you turned and walked off in pursuit of the other lock combinations.

Sensing the tension in the air, Jungwon walks over and puts his hand on Jake's shoulder. “Let’s just look for the other codes,” the younger boy suggests. However, the only response that he reserved was Jake shoving his hand off and him walking off. Sighing, Jungwon closed his eyes, shaking his head, before walking over to Sunoo, who had been watching the two of them.

Jungwon placed his hand on the glass, looking up at the boy. “Just hang tight. We’re going to get you out of there.”

Sunoo nods with a small smile before watching as Jungwon walks away before looking over at you. You had found another cabinet and were searching through the bottom drawer, but tears kept obstructing your vision, causing you to let out a few curses while wiping them away. Sunoo watched with sorrow as your shoulders shook, his heart hurting seeing you so broken.

“Y/n.” He called out your name, causing you to stop what you were doing, and turned to look at him, wiping some of the tears from your face. Standing to your feet, you made your way over to the blonde, who offered you a sad smile. “Don’t let what he said get to you, okay? Emotions are so high right now I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” 

You knew that he was probably right. All of you were trapped in such a stressful situation that it was not that much of a surprise that someone snapped. You nodded softly, wiping more of the tears off of your cheeks before a small smile pulled on the corner of your lips, which made Sunoo’s heart swell.

However, your smile quickly dropped when you realized that the water had already traveled up to his knees. Panic started to etch itself into your bones once more as you placed your hand on the glass, Sunoo mimicking your movements.

“We’ll get you out soon, I promise.” Your voice cracked slightly, causing Sunoo’s heart to lurch. He smiled, trying his best to reassure you, but the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Deep down Sunoo had a small feeling that this was going to be his last twenty minutes on earth. Something was telling him that they weren’t going to find all of the keys on time, that he was going to end up taking his last breath.  He started to think back to everything that led up to now, how he spent the last year pining over someone who would just be right out of his reach. How he had made plans with Riki and Jungwon to go on a road trip this summer, but now they would have to take the trip without him. He thought back to when he first met Riki, which is funny in itself because he was at the store looking for a game that Jungwon sent him out to get, accidentally running into Riki, literally. The boy was in such a rush to get back home before his favorite show started that he hadn't seen Riki standing there. Riki, who had just as surprised as Sunoo offered him a hand up and teased him for being in such a rush before asking what he was looking for.

“Some new game my roommate sent me to grab,” Sunoo rolled his eyes, “not even sure why I agreed to.” Riki couldn’t help but laugh, but he had helped Sunoo find that game before exchanging numbers because of a show they both liked.

Tears started to prick at Sunoo’s eyes as he wondered what he did to deserve this? What have any of you done to deserve this? It was something that he was sure that he would wonder even after he was laid to rest.

Jake glanced over his shoulder, seeing that everyone else was distracted, his fingers wrapping around the box nearest to him. Sunoo caught him from the corner of his eye, eyebrows furrowed together as he watched the older male stuff something in his pocket and set the box back down just as you turned around.

Eyes narrowing slightly, you looked Jake up and down. "What are you doing?” Your voice caught Jake’s attention, causing him to turn to look at you. "Did you find another code?”

Jake shakes his head, pulling his hand from his pocket to point at the box that he just had in his hand. “I was just checking to see if there was anything on the bottom.” His voice is steady as he meets your gaze. Something about the gleam in his eyes leaves a bad taste in your mouth. However, against your better judgment, you decide not to question him, though you do look at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

“So, was there anything?” Your tone held a bit of sas that caused the male to bite his tongue, trying his best to not lash out once more; more than enough damage had already been done.

So he just shook his head, “No, there’s nothing.”

With a curt nod, you turned back around to continue your search for the missing codes. Sunoo glanced at you for a moment before looking over at Jake, who opened a drawer that he was sure he had already looked through a few times. Alarms started going off in the blonde’s head, something telling him that something was very, very wrong, but he didn’t want to just assume anything.

The feeling of eyes on him caused Jake to turn his head, meeting Sunoo’s gaze. He raised an eyebrow, questioning the blonde silently, who just gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned away, but not before catching a glimpse of what looked to be a knife in the older male’s jacket pocket.

A shiver runs throughout Sunoo’s entire body as he looks elsewhere in the room, unsure if it was due to what he had just seen or if it was the cold water that was soaking his clothes little by little. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he tried to think why Jake would have a knife. Surely, the person behind all of this would have taken any kind of weapon that they had on them, and if he had found it in the room, why hadn’t he said anything? Sunoo had gotten so lost that he hadn’t even noticed Jungwon leap to his feet, holding up a piece of paper.

“I found another one!” He exclaimed before making a beeline for the boxes; you were hot on his heels.

Jungwon grabbed one of the boxes just as you stood by his side, arms brushing against each other as you watched him intently. However, at the sight of you standing so close to the younger boy, Jake's lip twitched, a glare adorning his features, all of which didn’t go unnoticed by Sunoo.

Before he could speak aloud, Jungwon threw the box open, grabbing the key out and showing you with a wide smile on his face. You guys were one step closer to getting Sunoo out of there. But then all of the excitement died down when he looked over to show Sunoo the key and saw that the water was mid-chest on the older male.

Panic starts to cloud your mind, causing you to look around the room frantically, yelling at the other two boys to pick it up and keep looking. Jake walked over to a bookshelf that was off to Sunoo’s right while Jungwon walked over to another cabinet.

Jungwon mumbled something akin to promises of finding the last one, his ears ringing so loudly that it’d be a miracle if he heard anything else. You practically threw out of the shelf that you had been looking through, flipping through the pages of the books. Tears involuntarily brimming in your eyes once more, but you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from letting them fall.

Jake licked his lips, his eyes flickering over to you before he shoved his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Clearing his throat, he called out to you and Jungwon, a sense of urgency in his tone causing all of your attention to shift over to him. He held up the crinkled paper, causing your eyes to light up before rushing over to him.

You stood next to Jake, staring over his shoulder urging him to open the box already while Jungwon walked over to Sunoo with a bright smile on his lips.

“We’re getting you out of there, Sun.” Jungwon felt tears of relief fill his eyes, but Sunoo would only offer him a smile, a gut feeling telling him that something was wrong.

Jake opens the box with a flourish, but his eyes grow wide at the sight of an empty box. Looking over, he watches as fear and panic morph into your face once more. You snatch the box out of Jake’s hands, causing him to recoil back slightly, his eyes widening.

Your panic-stricken eyes looked into the box, seeing that the key was, in fact, not in there, “Son of a bitch!” You shouted, throwing the box to the ground, the metal crashing into the ground, causing the sound to reverberate all around the room.

With tears streaming down your face, you search the room for anything that could break the last lock. All your attempts proved to be futile; nothing was quite strong enough to even begin to crack the lock. 

“Fuck!” All of the anger and frustration started to bubble in your chest, a stream of tears falling from your eyes. Jungwon looked up from his spot on the ground next to Sunoo, lock in hand trying to see if he could pick it.

In the heat of the moment, she grabbed one of the chairs that sat at the desk before swinging as hard as she could, hitting the glass and causing all three boys to jump at the sudden sound. Jungwon shields his head when you go to swing the chair once more, but Jake grabs your arm, causing you to glare at him.

“There’s no point.” His voice was flat, causing your heart to sink. Had he really already accepted Sunoo’s fate?

“How would you know?” You seethed, yanking your arm free from his grasp just as Jungwon stood from the ground.

“And why are you just standing there doing nothing?” Jungwon pointed at Jake, who just slapped his hand out of the way, a glare of his own covering his face.

“Because there’s nothing we can do; what about that, do you not get?” Jake growled, looking between you and Jungwon.

Before you could open your mouth, Sunoo butts in, “Y/n, he’s right, time’s alm-”

“No, there’s a way. I’ll find a way, dammit.” You hissed through your teeth, tears sticking to your eyelashes. You refused to hear anything else as you continued your search for anything that could get the lock undone.

Sunoo sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them once more to look at you. It pained him so much to see you trying so hard to save him, and it broke his soul to know that he was about to cause a lot of pain—not just to you but to all of your other friends.

“Y/n.” He called out to you, but you shook your head not giving him your attention. Letting out a sigh, he placed his hand against the glass, the water merely inches away from his neck. “Y/n, look at me, please.” This time you look over at him, tears streaming down your flushed face, eyes bloodshot, “there’s no time.” 

A sob tore through your lungs, a sound that Sunoo never wanted to hear, let alone be the cause of. Tears of his own stung at the corner of his eyes as he watched Jungwon grab your frail body, pulling you into his chest. He didn’t want his last few moments alive seeing that heartbreaking expression on your face, so he offered a small smile when you finally looked up to meet his gaze.

“Do you remember that new cafe we wanted to go to?” Sunoo’s voice was soft, only causing your heart to hurt more because you knew what he was starting to get at.

But you still nodded, “yeah, you always talked about the paw print design on the cups.”

Sunoo couldn’t help but chuckle because he knew she was right. Ever since the cafe released their cup designs, Sunoo couldn’t shut up about how cute they were and how he wanted one to use at home.

“Go and try it out for me, ya?” He asked, a teary smile on his lips as he watched you choke back a sob but still nodded, telling him that you would. Your hands balled Jungwon’s shirt into a fist as sobs continued to rack through your body.

Jungwon tightened his grip around your waist, letting you cry into his shoulder as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his own tears at bay. However, it proved to be a lot harder than he thought when Sunoo looked in his direction.

“Hey, Won.” Sunoo smiled, his bottom lip trembling, “go ahead and do me a favor, ya?”

Jungwon’s hand tightened against your hip, “of course, Sun.”

“Stop being so reckless all of the time; you’re gonna get yourself hurt one day.” Sunoo mused, and Jungwon couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as his tears finally broke free. “Oh, and get that game you’ve been going crazy over, okay?”

The younger boy swallowed thickly, trying to keep from entirely breaking down. “I will, Sun, I promise.” His voice shook, and his vision became blurry as more tears flowed from his eyes.

Sunoo offered Jungwon one last smile before looking over at Jake, his heart feeling heavy. The last thing he needed to do was throw around accusations, but he hoped that a few words of warning to Jungwon would suffice if anything were to happen. However, the questioning look on the older male’s face made his stomach turn. 

Swallowing thickly, he gestured to you and Jungwon, “Make sure they make it out alive, okay?”

Jake poked the inside of his cheek before nodding, reassuring him that he would. Seconds later, the water completely submerged Sunoo. He held his breath as he looked at the three of you once more before fully accepting his fate.

Choked sobs tore through your body as you watched in horror as Sunoo’s body fought to get air, bubbles surrounding his head until they slowly diminished into nothing, and his body sank to the bottom of the container. His eyes closed, and if he hadn’t been in the water, you would have thought he was just sleeping.

Jungwon’s grip slipped from your body, allowing you to drop to the ground, eyes never leaving Sunoo’s body. Sobs no longer fell from your lips, but tears continued to silently fall from your eyes.

The younger boy just stood there, arms hung by his sides as he stared at the body of his best friend, waiting to wake up from this sick and twisted nightmare. Wanting to wake up already to walk into the living room to see the blonde perched on the couch with a bowl of cereal while watching whatever drama show was on that morning. However, no matter how many times he pinches himself he doesn’t seem to be waking up. With every pinch, the reality of everything sank in, and all he could do was cry.

Jake stood off to the side, his eyes staring at the blonde’s body. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was taught. 

Both boys looked at the TV screen when the buzzer alarmed them. Jake quickly looked away, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets.

“Fuck you, you sick sons of bitches.” Jungwon cursed, wiping the tears from his face with a scoff as he read the words they had displayed with little animated fish swimming around.

‘GAME OVER – BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!!’

Their attention was then pulled to the door. When the sound of the lock turning was heard, Jake made his way over to it. Pulling his hands from his packets, he reached for the doorknob before pulling it open, peeking out, and then looking back at Jungwon, whose eyes were already on him.

“We better go find the others.” His voice was merely above a whisper, and his eyes shifted away from the boy down to you. The shock had completely rendered your body motionless, but your eyes were still glued to where Sunoo lay at the bottom of the tank.

One of your friends was gone, Sunoo was dead.

Not a word was uttered as Jay, Sunghoon, and Riki walked down the dimly lit hallway. Each in their own world, they were still trying to come to terms with what they had just witnessed. Jay led the way while Sunghoon trailed along in the back, eyes devoid of any emotion save for sorrow. Then, Riki walked between the two.

Jay then sees a door at the end of the hall, light shining through the cracks. He mutters a quick ‘come on’ before walking towards the door. Waiting just a second, he tried to see if he could hear anything, but no sound came through the thick wooden door. Glancing behind him for a second, Riki just gave him a slight nod while Sunghoon remained stoic.

On the other side of the door, Jungwon shot to his feet when he heard the sound of the door knob turning; his nerves completely shot. However, as soon as Jay’s face came into view he could feel his body significantly relax. He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips, seeing that their other friends were fine, at least he thought they were until he realized that something was severely wrong. Looking around, he noticed that another of their friends was missing, nowhere to be seen, and he could feel his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“Where’s Heeseung?” Jungwon’s words caught your attention, causing you to look over before standing to your feet when you didn’t see the older male anywhere. Sunghoon looked away, his lip tucked between his teeth, avoiding your and Jungwon’s gazes. 

With a few quick strides, you walked over to Jay, grabbing his forearms. Jay bit the inside of his cheek at the sight of your bloodshot eyes, knowing that you had already been crying long before they even made it into the room. 

Terror filled your veins as you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, that he was just lagging behind the rest of them, that he would walk through that door any second and tease her for crying over him. However, seeing the heartbreak on Sunghoon’s face left your heart beating in your ears as you swallowed thickly before asking the dreaded question.

“Jay, where’s Heeseung?” Your bottom lip trembled as you fought back tears, shifting your gaze over to your brother, who just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” Jay’s voice came out hoarse, and your eyes went wide, your heart shattering, “he’s gone.” 

You shake your head, releasing Jay’s arms before taking a step back, “No, no, no, NO!” You cried out, hands in your hair as you dropped to the ground. Sobs tore through your exhausted lungs, causing them to come out choked as tears flooded from your eyes before dropping to the hardwood floor.

Your cries echoed all over the room, etching itself into each of the boy’s bones. Jay tilted his head up towards the ceiling to keep the tears at bay while Sunghoon bit his lip, wishing he’d never have to hear something as devastating as this ever again.

All of your memories of Heeseung came crashing into you all at once, causing your screams to increase in agony. Your vision was completely obscured by the tears as you covered your ears to try and drown out the ringing, but it was no use. Your breathing then started to hitch, causing alarm amongst the rest.

Jay was the first to move towards you but was quickly intervened by Riki, who pushed him away, a hard look in his eye as he bent down to grab you.

“I’ve got her.” The boy’s tone was harsh, causing Jay to take a small step back, knowing now wouldn’t be the best time for an argument to break out.

So he watched as Riki helped you to your feet before leading you to the couch. Then he looked around the room, seeing that a certain blonde was nowhere to be seen either. Eyebrows scrunched together, he looked over at Jungwon, ready to ask where Sunoo was, but the younger boy just shook his head, a solemn look gracing his features.

“Fucking hell.” Jay cursed, running his fingers through his hair and walking off to the side of the room. How could they lose two people within the span of just an hour? How many more of them were going to have to die before they managed to get out of this hell hole?

~

After a short while, you had finally calmed down a little bit. Now, you were leaning against your brother, silent tears still falling down your cheeks. No one had said a word, not sure what to say or too lost in their own minds to even bother speaking.

Riki moved slightly, lifting his head to look at the others. " We should take this chance to look around, do you think?” His words caught Jay’s attention, causing the older male to look over at him. “I mean, the doors are still unlocked, so shouldn’t we look for a way out or clues at least?”

Jay nods his head before pushing himself to his feet, followed by Jake and Jungwon. However, neither you nor Sunghoon showed any kind of response. Jay lets out a sigh, walking over to the dark-haired male and placing his hand on his shoulder. Sunghoon still shows no response even after Jay tells him to come on, and neither do you, your eyes still glued to the same spot on the ground.

He was trying to be patient with the two of you, but his patience had already been worn to the max, and there wasn’t much left that he could spare before snapping. So he pinches the bridge of his nose before giving the both of you a stern look.

“Do you really think this is what Hee or Sunoo would have wanted?” Jay’s voice was hard, but all you could do was scoff before glaring up at him.

“The last time we snooped around, two of our friends died, so I’m sorry if I don’t wanna run that risk again.” You hissed, standing on your feet. The last thing you wanted to do was witness another one of your friends dying, already experiencing enough heartbreak to last ten lifetimes.

Jay returned your glare with one of his own, “If we stay here, one or even all of us are bound to die.” He gestured to the others around the two of you, “I would much rather die trying to get free rather than sit here and wait for death because, guess what? That would mean that our friends' deaths were in vain.” Jay’s words struck a cord deep within your soul causing you to flinch while Sunghoon inhaled deeply before nodding his head.

“Jay’s right,” He walked over to stand next to Jay, looking down at you, a mixture of emotions swirling in his iris’, “I don’t know about you, y/n, but I’m about to sit around and let Hee’s death be for nothing,”

Your glare shifted from Jay to the taller male next to him, the feeling of uncertainty coming back. How could you trust him after finding his bracelet? After Heeseung died when he was with him? So many emotions were stored away in your body that you weren’t even sure what to feel, but you did know that anger was the strongest. Your hands clenched at your sides before stepping away from the couch and closer to Sunghoon.

“I swear to god, if I find out that you’re the one behind all of this. I will personally kill you myself.” You seethed before making your way towards the door and ripping it open. Riki was hot on your heels when you stormed out of the room.

Jake watched from the back, his eyes darting between everyone who stood in the room with him, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips when he saw Sunghoon’s face fall. However, the expression didn’t go unnoticed by Jungwon, who just happened to glance at the older boy. Sensing someone’s gaze, Jake looked over, meeting Jungwon’s, a gleam in his eyes daring the younger boy to say something. Swallowing thickly Jungwon tore his gaze away from Jake before making his way towards the door, looking back at the other.

“Come on, let’s find a way outta here.” His voice was full of uncertainty but he just tried his best to ignore the red flags and focus on getting out for right now. Jay’s tongue darted out to wet his lips before he nodded and followed Jungwon out of the door, Sunghoon right behind him. Jake was the last out of the room, walking out with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket, a smug gleam in his eyes when Jungwon looked back knowing that he had the boy right in the palm of his hand. Jake knew that Jungwon didn’t have the guts to say anything to the rest of the group, not as long as Jake was nearby, and with that information, Jake couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement.

It had felt like the six of you had been walking down the dimly lit hallways for hours, and not a single clue or exit was to be found. However, what you did find were cobwebs and roaches, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Looking around, it wasn’t hard to tell that this was a more run-down part of whatever building you were stuck in, most likely the basement.

The air around you was thick with tension, and it was weighing on each of you. However, no one had the guts to break it—at least not until Jungwon saw a broken clock off to the side.

“I wonder how long we’ve been stuck here…” He questions out loud, not to anyone in particular, but Jake glances around.

“Probably most, if not all, of the night,” Jake murmurs as he cringes when another roach scurries in front of his feet. Everything then goes silent once more, much to Jungwon’s dismay.

Before too long they make it to the end of the hallway, dread filling your senses when you saw that it forked off into two separate directions. All of you stop before turning to face one another to come up with a game plan.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just split up?” Riki suggests from his spot beside you, but you are quick to shake your head, refusing the idea.

“No, we’re not splitting up.” Fear laced your tone causing both Jay and Jungwon to look over at you while Sunghoon nodded his head in agreement.

“I second that; every time we’ve been split up, something bad happens.” Sunghoon explained eyebrows furrowed as he looked between each of you.

Jake, however, steps forward, glancing between you and Sunghoon. " It’ll just take more time if we all stay together.” Riki and Jay nod, knowing that he was right; they would cover more ground if you were to split up.

You start to protest, but Jay turns towards you, cupping your face in his palms, and you look up at him with worry-filled eyes.

“Y/n, love, listen to me.” His voice was soft as he spoke to you, tears involuntarily filling his eyes. “We can split up into two groups and meet back here in thirty minutes. That way, we can cover as much ground as possible in a shorter amount of time.”

You bit your bottom lip to keep the tears that had pooled on your waterline at bay before saying okay. Jay then gives you a soft smile before leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. Neither of you caught the look of anger and disgust that flashed across Jake’s face. However, Jungwon once again caught it, causing a chill to run down his spine, worried about what kind of thoughts were running through the older male’s head.

He opens his mouth to voice his concerns, but Jake once more cuts him off before he can get a single word out, “I’ll go with Sunghoon and Jungwon. You take y/n and Jay.”

Jungwon couldn’t help but feel his heart drop, a sense of dread washing over his body, soaking into his bones. More so when everyone agrees to the teams, blissfully unaware of what was happening. Swallowing the lump in his throat Jungwon makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand in his. 

The feeling of paper on your palm made you open your mouth to question the boy, but the look in his eyes told you not to say a word, so you didn’t. He then offers you a small smile before telling you to be safe. You closed your fingers around the paper when he moved his hand away before returning his sentiment and going to stand next to Jay, who had been watching quietly. 

“Alright, we’ll meet back here in thirty. Be safe, all of you.” Jay spoke, pointing to each of the boys on the opposite side of the hall.

Sunghoon nodded, looking over at Jake, then shifted his gaze to Jungwon before meeting Jay's once more, “We will, but the same goes for the three of you.”

With that, the six of you split up once more, walking down opposite sides of the hall, the promise of meeting back in thirty minutes hanging in the air.

Jay notices you uneasy and reaches down to intertwine his fingers with yours, catching your attention. "We’re gonna get out of here, and we’ll be okay,” he whispers softly before pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

~

When the three of you made it to an open door, you peeked inside, seeing zero signs of any kind of life, which you weren’t sure you should feel happy or creeped out by. However, when you got inside, you suggested splitting up to look through the shelves and cabinets, to which both boys agreed.

Once you were off to the side of the room and made sure that neither Jay nor Riki were looking you slipped the paper out of your pocket, unfolding it. Your eyes blew wide open as you read the words that Jungwon had hurriedly scribbled on the page.

‘There’s something up with Jake; he’s acting weird, and Sunoo told me that he had seen a knife in his pocket.’

Quickly covering your mouth to muffle the gasp that fell from your lips, you looked up and over to say something to the guys, but then the lights went out, leaving the room pitch black.

You jumped at the sudden change, panic flooding into your mind. Reaching around you, you tried to find some kind of table to stabilize yourself.

“Jay? Riki? Where are you guys?” You called out, fingers gripping the edge of whatever you had grabbed, sure that your knuckles were a ghostly shade of white.

“Y/n? Where are you?” You heard Jay’s voice, and you felt your shoulders relax a bit. You moved to follow where the sound of his voice came from: “Here, follow my voice.”

Then it dawned on you that you never received a response from your brother, causing your heart to start hammering under your ribs.

“Riki, where are you?” you called out again, using your hands to maneuver the space around you. However, just like before, there was no sign of your brother. “Riki now is not the time for one of your little pranks. Where the hell are you?”

Jay had made his way over to you, grabbing your arm softly and causing your body to jolt. "It’s just me.”

You frantically turned your head, trying to see anything in the pitch-dark room. " Do you know where Riki is?” Fear started to wash over you, and you were scared that something had happened to your little brother.

Before Jay could even get the chance to say anything, the lights flashed back on, momentarily blinding the both of you.

Blinking a few times, you let your eyes adjust to the new lighting before you turned your body in every direction, seeing absolutely no sign of your brother. Not only that but the door had been closed and more than likely locked, causing your breath to hitch in your throat as you looked over at Jay with wide, fear-stricken eyes.

“Where’s Riki?” Your voice shook as you frantically looked around the room for any sign of the younger boy; it felt like all of the air was being stolen from your lungs as you ran your fingers through your hair, “Where the fuck is my brother?”

Riki was gone, and you were trapped in yet another room…

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

#♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼: :; #yang jungwon #lee heeseung #park jongseong #jay park #sim jaeyun #jake sim #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #niki #jungwon x reader #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #jake x reader #jaeyun x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #niki x reader #riki x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha #enha x reader #enhypen jugnwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jongseong #enhypen jake

[coloursflyaway]

Cry With Joy At The Depth Of My Love

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 18.000

Read on AO3

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there are more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.” ____________ Edwin takes the Cat King up on his initial offer, so instead of a few hours, he is gone for six weeks. Charles isn't good at coping with it.

Tags for everyone who wanted one ♥: @that-ineffable-devil @mentally-unstable-fangirl @tipsyscone @butternutsquashthesenutz @makemeimmortalwithahug @mylu @imineffible @fabledshadow @asherxme @twopercentboy

„Now, I think this concludes our business“, Edwin says and fixes his bow-tie, the collar of his shirt. His lips feel strange, now that they have tasted their first kiss (and their second, and third, and fourth, and…, his treacherous mind corrects him), but this was a small price to pay for safe passage out of this godforsaken town. “So, could you please transport me back to my friend?”

The creature in question unfurls his body from the sofa they were lounging on for the transaction, and even if Edwin cannot find much that is good about this situation, the Cat King at least has been rather civil about it all, no matter his unconventional request for payment.

Even now, he walks closer and there is a smirk on his lips.

Lips, Edwin does not want to look at, because he knows how they feel and knows that they felt right in one, and terrifyingly wrong in all other ways.

“If you insist”, the Cat King drawls, and brushes two fingers across Edwin’s shoulders. “I can take you back to your little friend. But you’re also more than welcome to stay a little longer…”

“No, thank you”, Edwin cuts him off before he can continue, because he needs to get back to Charles, and as soon as possible, too. “As far as I can tell, you have been made quite happy, so I consider my debt repaid and would very much like to return where I belong.”

And the Cat King looks at him like he knows something he won’t tell Edwin yet, and snaps his fingers, and the world changes.

Edwin disappears in front of their eyes, and Charles forces down the spark of panic that comes with that.

The Cat King wanted to talk and Edwin can handle it, of course he can. Even if Charles would have liked it much better if he could have done it within his sight.

The warehouse looks different when it reappears.

Edwin needs a moment to make sense of it, but then his gaze gets stuck on the scratches on the walls, the splintered wood and bent metal, the wrecked throne and the hole in the floor that looks like someone dug it with their bare hands, blood streaked across the grey concrete.

It looks like a crime scene, like a war had been waged inside of it, and then Edwin’s eyes find Charles’ form in the middle of the broken up ground.

He’s sunken on the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, his coat torn to shreds, his white socks stained, and his hair a matted mess of curls. Bits of concrete are stuck in there, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice, like he doesn’t seem to notice anything else around him, and it scares Edwin more than anything ever has before.

Before he knows it, he is moving, gasping out Charles’ name, and for a terrible, terrifying second, Charles does not react. He just sits there, motionless, like he is stuck in limbo; then he looks up, slowly, like he is moving through molasses, and somehow, it’s worse.

There is no life left in his eyes.

Usually, they shine brighter than the sun itself, sparkling with every emotion Charles is feeling, but now their light is dimmed until it has all but gone out, their brown not warm and inviting anymore, but flat.

A sound tumbles from Edwin’s lips, although he cannot quite make out what kind, something between a sob and a plea and a prayer, and Edwin is about to drop to his knees in front of him, when Charles propels himself upwards and flings himself into Edwin with a force that knocks them both to the ground.

If he was still breathing, the impact would force the air out of Edwin’s lungs, but he is certain that even then, he wouldn’t realise it, because Charles is holding him so tightly it compresses his non-existent ribs, like he has been hurt, like he had thought Edwin was.

And he’s crying.

It’s the kind of crying Edwin hasn’t experienced before, but something which he understands anyway; it’s the kind of crying he would hear in hell, seeping through the cracks of his doll house, the kind he would see much later when he was escaping.

It’s crying without any kind of restraint because there is no strength left to fight it, the kind of crying that comes from desperation so deep it captures your entire soul, and forces anything else into meaninglessness.

Edwin has never cried like this before, and he swears right then and there that he will find and butcher whoever did this to Charles.

Three hours have passed and Edwin isn’t yet back.

Charles is doing his very best to keep calm, but it is so, so difficult when the only thing those damned cats are willing to say is, sometimes the King likes to keep them for a while.

What is a while?, Charles had asked, but there had been nothing but a self-satisfied meow, which most likely just means that the cats know about as much as Charles does.

Which is not reassuring, but in the end, it will be fine.

Edwin might not know how to fight, but he’s clever and he’s brave and he would never leave Charles alone.

“Shh, it’s alright”, he is whispering into Charles’ curls, trying to soothe him even though it doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Charles is crying like the world has ended, his sobs so violent they make Edwin’s chest seize up, his fingers grabbing and pulling at Edwin’s clothes like he wants to sink into him and fuse their bodies together.

And Edwin might not know how to fix this, but he’ll damn himself to Hell if he lets go.

He’s about to try and change their position in hopes of making Charles more comfortable, when there is a thud and the sound of splashing liquid behind them.

“Edwin?”, Crystal asks, and Edwin would say something snarky, maybe even something mean, but Charles is wrapped around him like he’ll never let go again, and there’s more important matters at hand.

“Crystal, what has happened here?”, he asks, and a few seconds later, their new psychic is standing in front of him, trousers splashed with the coffee she dropped, disbelief written across her face. “I was gone for a few hours and now Charles… and the whole building…”

He’s not quite sure how to put it, most likely because he still doesn’t understand, and Crystal looks at him like he come back from the Cat King’s lair with an additional head.

“Edwin”, she says, slowly, like she is still searching for the words, “what are you talking about? You’ve been gone for six weeks.”

Edwin has been gone for a day and a half and Charles is going insane.

He knows he’s going insane, but that doesn’t change anything, because Edwin has been gone for a day and a half, and they have never been apart for this long since they met.

“I swear to God, if you don’t bring him back, like, this instant, I’m going to start breaking things”, he tells one of the cats that have come to watch them; it’s not an effective threat because Charles has been saying this for at least six hours, but he cannot stop himself, because he feels like breaking things.

He feels like he needs to break things, and that scares him, but what scares him much, much more is that Edwin isn’t here, and he has been gone for a day and a half, and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

“Sure thing, lover boy”, one of the cats replies, and Charles shouldn’t, but he screams.

Silence stretches between them, only interrupted by Charles’ sobs, his heaving breaths.

“What do you mean, I have been gone for six weeks?”, Edwin finally asks, dread of a previously unknown type and magnitude filling him with every tear Charles is crying into his suit.

“What do you think I mean? I mean, six weeks, you have been gone for six weeks, and we have been looking all over for you and this one”, she gestures to Charles, “has taken the entire town apart because he was so convinced that he would have to dig you out of Hell with his own bare hands. That’s what I mean with you have been gone for six weeks.”

And she looks down at Charles who is shaking in Edwin’s arms, and there is tenderness and true affection in her eyes, which vanishes as soon as her gaze returns to Edwin.

“So, like. Good to have you back, but also, what the fuck, how could you do this to him?”

It’s been two days since Edwin was whisked away by that absolute prick of a Cat King and Charles is losing his mind. Whatever he thought before about going insane was nothing, nothing at all, because this is so much worse.

Crystal, bless her, has been trying to calm him down, but there is only so much she can do, which is nothing at all, because Edwin is gone and no one will fucking talk to Charles and tell him what is going on.

So, he is pacing, because he cannot start smashing things up, even if he wants to.

Not because of any consideration Charles has for the Cat King or his kingdom or his subjects, but because Edwin will come back and he will have solved everything, and he will be so cross with him if Charles starts smashing things up.

So, instead, he paces, and thinks about how he’ll hug Edwin once he’s back, no matter if Edwin wants him to or not, and how he won’t let him out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

Six weeks.

The words shatter something within Edwin that he didn’t know existed, tear him down until he’s not sure if he’s still the same person as he was before.

Because Charles is crying in his arms like he watched the world end, and suddenly Edwin doesn’t just understand the emotion there, but feels it deeply, viscerally.

If Charles had been gone for six weeks, he would be tearing the world apart with his bare hands to get him back.

And suddenly, every one of Charles’ sobs is an open wound, every trembling grasping of his fingers a broken bone, every time he breathes in, wet and desperate and painful, is a death he dies, because Edwin is the one who caused this.

Edwin, who was gone for six weeks without knowing, who has left the most important person in his life to suffer without him; Edwin, who can’t do anything but hug Charles tighter, and pray to whatever god will hear him that Charles will be able to forgive him.

It’s been three days and Charles doesn’t care anymore.

He has told Crystal as much, after she had dragged him out on a coffee run, insisting that he cannot spend his entire time in that godforsaken warehouse. Which she is wrong about, he realises as soon as he has stepped outside, because Edwin could come back any second and Charles would not be there to take care of him after whatever this Cat King has been putting him through.

At first, the Cat King hadn’t seemed too bad, not dangerous, more annoying, but apparently Charles had been wrong because Edwin isn’t here, and there is no way Edwin would leave Charles alone for this long, especially because he must know how worried Charles is by now.

So, the only explanation is that the Cat King must be keeping Edwin from leaving somehow and Charles will not allow it.

He should have gone with him right away, shouldn’t have let Edwin out of his sight, will never do so again.

So, he lets Crystal get the coffee she wants, but ignores her looks when he brandishes his cricket bat even before they walk into the warehouse. Maybe he is overreacting, because it has only been three days, but at the same moment, Charles knows he isn’t, because maybe for other people, spending three days away from their best friend is just part of everyday life, but it isn’t for them.

Charles is used to looking up at any given time and finding Edwin within his sight and the fact that he isn’t terrifies Charles to the point where it is hard to think.

That’s why it doesn’t matter that Crystal is obviously uncomfortable when Charles twirls the bat around as he enters the warehouse, just like it doesn’t matter that the cats scatter, not even that Edwin would tut and tell Charles to use his head to solve this, not his muscles.

Because Edwin isn’t here, is he?

“Oi!”, he calls into the vast room and sends more cats running. “One of you little fuckers is going to tell me where your King has taken my friend or I’ll start smashing shit up around here, alright?”

Just to make sure they know he means business, Charles brings down his bat on the closest barrel and feels the metal dent under the impact.

It’s satisfying in a way that scares him, but everything scares him right now, so this doesn’t matter, either.

“Do you hear me?”, he shouts and knows that he doesn’t sound commanding, just desperate, because that’s what he is, desperate and scared and not even good enough to keep the most important person in the world safe. But maybe desperate is enough for this, because desperate people do desperate things and Charles is about to rip this place into bits and pieces until he finds Edwin again.

There is no answer, and Crystal reaches out to tug on his jacket, like she thinks he doesn’t mean it, but oh, that’s where she is wrong.

They have only spent a week and a half together so Charles doesn’t hold it against her, but he’ll show her, just like he’ll show the cats, how much he means it.

Edwin isn’t certain how long they stay like this, but it’s not like he cares either. His mind is still reeling from the revelation that he has been gone for six weeks, his heart caught in a cycle of ripping itself apart for leaving Charles alone and patching itself up once more because he cannot let Charles see how much he is hurting, not when Charles needs him to be strong now.

Despite having existed for over a hundred years, Edwin has never become comfortable with another person’s touch – Charles’ being the exception – but he knows that Charles needs it, so his hands have started running over Charles’ back, combing through his lovely curls, anything that will let Charles know that he is here and he is safe and he isn’t leaving ever again.

“For me, it was only a few hours”, Edwin whispers, a response that comes far too late, feels like far too little, because who cares what it was like for him if it has left Charles in such a state? “If I had known that time passed different there, I would have come back immediately. I wouldn’t have spent a second with that blasted man.”

His hand is cupping Charles’ head, trying to support him through sobs that seem to wreck through his body with the intensity of an earthquake, the tears they bring soaking through Edwin’s jacket and shirt. Even if his spectral skin cannot feel them, Edwin knows it anyway, just like he knows the desperate grip Charles has on his back, the shaking of his slender body in Edwin’s arms.

“Time passed differently-”, Crystal starts but then stops herself, almost like a decision Edwin can see her make, before she crouches down and puts a hand on Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s. Part of Edwin wants to push it away, because it should be him who touches Charles, no on else. “You know what, we can talk about that later. We have to get him out of here first, then we can figure the rest out.”

Metal bends and wood breaks and concrete doesn’t do much at all apart from sending shocks up Charles’ arms, especially if he does it again and again and again.

If he was still alive, his muscles would be screaming, he’d be covered in cuts and bruises, splinters embedded in his flesh and being driven deeper with every motion; like this, there is nothing, just Charles and the cricket bat and the violence he is unleashing.

The first hit had felt good, like a release, but by now it feels like nothing at all anymore, but in the end, he does not do it to feel better, but to get these goddamned cats to finally tell him where Edwin is.

It’s the only thing that matters, that has mattered, will matter, and Charles will take the whole fucking warehouse apart if that is what it takes.

His bat slams into the side of a barrel, denting it, and a cat flees; his bat hits a post and another one does.

“Just give him back!”, he screams and he sounds crazed, but that doesn’t matter either. “Tell me where he is!”

There is carnage around him, there’s bits of wood flying where Charles’ swing has toppled a palette over, and it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all.

It’s nearly impossible to get Charles to stand up and it breaks Edwin’s heart, because Charles should be light on his feet, a flurry of motion even if he is trying to stand still, but instead he stumbles when Crystal helps lift him up. His hands are still clutching to Edwin’s clothes, cramped to the point where Crystal can’t dislodge them, although she is whispering soft nothings, coaxing with even softer touches.

In the end, they shift his arms so that they are around Edwin’s neck, clinging to him when Edwin picks him up like one would a child.

Were they still alive, Edwin wouldn’t be able to carry him a step, but Charles’ astral body has no weight to it, so Charles’ head comes to rest somewhere between Edwin’s neck and shoulder, fresh tears spilling down to wet his collar.

His sobs have quieted somehow, but he is still crying, still mute to Crystal’s questions and Edwin’s attempts of encouragement.

In all the three decades Edwin has known him, he has never seen Charles like this, never this closed off or devastated; it hurts in ways Edwin didn’t know he could hurt.

Crystal doesn’t talk much to him, but for once, Edwin doesn’t blame her: if he had been here in her stead, watching Charles spiral from his usual self to this state, he also wouldn’t want to talk to the person responsible for it.

So, he just follows her to the room she is still renting, holding onto Charles’ trembling form and swearing to never let him go again.

Eventually it’s Crystal who stops him.

She screams his name over the sounds of destruction, an expression on her pretty face that Charles has no energy left to decipher.

“Charles, they are not telling you anything”, she says, and yes, that’s the problem. “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Edwin is somewhere else entirely, maybe the Cat King has taken him somewhere else in town.”

It makes little sense, and Charles wants to go back and smash another barrel into pieces, just in case it’s this one that will make those fucking cats tell him where Edwin is, when Crystal puts a hand on his shoulder and adds, “Maybe he needs our help there.”

Suddenly, a barrage of images: Edwin kept prisoner, forced into iron shackles; Edwin, being tortured; Edwin, waiting for Charles to come free him.

Charles, who has sworn to protect him and failed once already.

Edwin puts Charles down on Crystal’s bed, but even then Charles doesn’t let go of him and Edwin is touched, Edwin is terrified.

He seems so small like this, curled up on Edwin’s lap, and Edwin’s heart aches with love and with devotion and with an unbearable amount of guilt.

Without thinking, he pushes a hand through Charles’ hair again, but this time, Charles shivers against him, either because of the touch or by chance, Edwin isn’t sure.

“What happened?”, he asks Crystal softly, as not to disturb Charles.

“What do you think?”, she asks instead of answering, “He thought you were gone. He thought you might be gone forever, or trapped in Hell, or another thousand things his poor brain came up with. Would have gotten himself wiped out of existence if I hadn’t stopped him. Or dragged down to hell. He was willing to do absolutely anything to find you.”

She looks down at Charles and Edwin watches her eyes soften, like she is watching something precious; she is right, of course, but part of his heart still screams for her to stop.

“I’m not sure you know how much he loves you”, she tells him, her expression still soft, and it’s preposterous, it’s uncalled for, and Edwin desperately wishes it not to be true.

They search the harbour and the lighthouse, the library and the abandoned houses scattered around town, the high school and the cemetery; Edwin is nowhere and Charles curses Port Townsend and its people, curses the two of them for ever setting foot in it and curses Crystal for bringing them here.

In the woods, they find something akin to a shrine, complete with ancient writing that Charles cannot read, but there is no sign of Edwin anywhere. Around it, skeletons are scattered across the grass, and Charles should care about it, should make this a case, but the thought of it feels so far removed he’s almost surprised when Crystal picks it up to bring with them.

That summons the skeletons and they run, and Charles forgets about it almost immediately afterwards because it doesn’t matter, nothing does.

As Crystal outlines the events in the past six weeks in broad strokes, Charles hardly stirs, even if his tears dry at some point.

He’s not asleep, because that is not a luxury granted to them, but Edwin notices this kind of exhaustion anyway; he’s felt it before, after he had crawled out of Hell, covered in soot and bile and blood, and had collapsed right there on the floor, finally safe, but unable to move for what felt like an eternity.

And he understands it, too: he’d rather go to Hell again than lose Charles.

“He just sat there?”, he asks when Crystal is nearing the end of her tale, because it seems impossible, should be that. Charles is movement, is a constant dance, and yet Crystal is telling him that prior to Edwin’s return, he hadn’t moved in a fortnight. And it should be inconceivable, but Edwin thinks of how he found Charles, sunken into himself like he had become part of the ground itself, and suddenly it is difficult to doubt her words.

Crystal nods, and again her gaze softens when it touches Charles; again something within Edwin twists and hisses.

“He said he wasn’t leaving until you came back”, she explains, and her voice is a caress not meant for him, but Charles, who cannot hear it. “And he said he would wait forever if he had to… and I believed him.”

“Oh, Charles.”

It’s a declaration of love, of sorrow, of everything in between, and for a second, Charles stirs in Edwin’s lap, before he settles back down; it’s for the best, even if Edwin craves to see Charles’ eyes with some semblance of life in them like a starving man might crave a meal.

He strokes his knuckles down Charles’ spine, wishing he could feel the bumps of every vertebra, and Charles presses closer, almost imperceptibly so.

“Thank you for taking care of him”, he tells Crystal and means it, even if the words feel like pulling barbed wire through his airways, because taking care of Charles isn’t Crystal’s duty, it’s Edwin’s. But she was there when Edwin wasn’t, and it comforts him at least a little to know that Charles hadn’t been alone.

“Of course”, Crystal says, and her eyes stay soft, stay on Charles, “but don’t you fucking do that again.”

The vase helps nothing at all, because Charles cannot read the words that were transcribed on it or the table, because he’s useless without Edwin at his side.

Edwin would be able to solve this, there is a reason why he’s the brains of the operation after all, but Charles? The best he can do is put the vase down on Crystal’s table and all but forget about it.

Until he comes back that night from another trip to the harbour, the magic shop, the warehouse, without Edwin, whose absence feels more like a gaping, oozing wound with every passing second, and there is a stranger in Crystal’s bed.

She’s petite and looks peaceful, but Charles doesn’t even get to ask what she is doing there before Crystal starts talking.

“I put some flowers into the weird vase we found”, she says, and it doesn’t explain anything at all, “Dandelions that I found when I went back to check if we had missed anything in the woods, you know, because of the skeletons. And I heard a thud from the hallway and Niko here had passed out right in the middle of it. Which, in itself, would have been concerning, but then...God, there is no way to say this without sounding insane, but there were little people? Crawling out of her mouth? Which are now asleep in the dandelions I put into the vase.”

She looks at Charles like she expects a response, but it’s really difficult to give one, when it’s… well. When it’s not about Edwin.

“That’s good?”, he tries and Crystal rolls her eyes, looking annoyed for a second.

“Charles, I know this isn’t-”, she starts, but then stops herself, her expression softening. “I know you are worried about Edwin, but I need your help with this, okay? It won’t take long, we just have to take those little creatures back to their little altar thing so they won’t crawl back into Niko once they wake up. Can you do that for me?”

It seems reasonable and Charles still wants to say no, because nothing matters as long as Edwin isn’t back where he should be, but then he remembers, dimly, through the pain and the confusion and the gaping hole that is Edwin’s absence, that this is what they set out to do.

Help people.

So, he nods, and Crystal smiles, and that might matter at least a little bit.

“I’ll take him back to London tomorrow”, Edwin says into the silence that has settled around them. “Through the mirror. Not because I don’t want you to come, just…”

He doesn’t quite know how to say it, but Crystal seems to understand it anyway.

“That’s a good idea”, she agrees easily, and reaches out to touch a hand to Charles’ back, just below Edwin’s hand once more. “I think he should be back home and you two… I think it might be good if you had some time to sort through things. I’ll join you later.”

In any other situation, Edwin would ask what she means by that, but right now, it really doesn’t seem to matter, so he just nods, settles back against the headboard, and lets his eyes slip shut.

Charles takes the vase back where they found it, and there should be some kind of satisfaction in it, something about the job being jobbed and the day being saved and the stranger, Niko, being out of danger, but there is nothing but the gaping hole in his chest where his heart is supposed to be, because Edwin isn’t there with him.

When the sun is rising, the first rays of light coming through the windows, Edwin tries to rouse Charles once more.

“Charles?”, he asks as softly as he possibly can, not yet pulling away. “I was thinking, we should go back to London.”

For a few moments, there is no answer, but then Charles slowly, ever so slowly, sits up, his arms still around Edwin’s neck, as if he couldn’t bear to lose their closeness.

And Edwin expects a reaction, but none as violent as he gets when he finally sees Charles’ face again.

It’s not like he has forgotten it; for him, not even a day has passed, and yet it feels like seeing him for the first time.

His eyes are the same brown Edwin has become so familiar with, but they are dull still, even if a hint of life has returned to them; they are rimmed with red, eyelashes clumped together as if Charles had just been crying. And he might have been, even if the thought that he didn’t notice hurts Edwin in completely new, unexpected ways.

“You’re really back”, Charles whispers and the words are a sob and a prayer and an exaltation, and Edwin’s heart breaks because he should never have been back, he should have just been there. “You’re really here.”

There are tears spilling down his face, making his gaze a little brighter and yet not worth it; Edwin reaches out to wipe them away without thinking and Charles trembles under his touch like he never has before.

“I never meant to be away that long”, he tells Charles, although he’s not sure it matters, because he was, and there is nothing he can say or do to make it better. “I never wanted to worry you.”

I never want to be away from you for more than a few seconds, he thinks, but doesn’t say, doesn’t recognise the thought but knows it to be true nonetheless.

“I know”, Charles says, and it’s still half a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks for Edwin to wipe away. “I always knew that. And you came back and you’re safe and that’s all that matters and I just. I missed you so much.”

And it’s not all that matters, not by a long shot, but for now, Edwin just nods and wipes another tear from Charles’ skin.

Niko wakes up again and she’s lovely in a way Charles knows Edwin would have enjoyed, but if anything, that just makes the need to get Edwin back worse.

It’s been a week and Charles desperately wishes he could sleep, just so he wouldn’t have to feel this all the time.

At least Niko seems to be willing to help, which would be a relief if Charles had any hope left that looking through town would bring Edwin back. But they have been everywhere thrice, have looked at every single thing Tragic Mick has on sale, and Edwin is just gone, like the Cat King has made him vanish from existence.

The thought cuts into Charles’ flesh like iron would, burning hot and torturous and it’s been a week and maybe there’s no other way. Edwin must be hurt or captured or a thousand other things Charles won’t allow himself to think of, and Charles will bring him back, no matter what it takes.

“Could you girls go and check the lighthouse again? Maybe the beach?”, he asks and maybe Crystal is getting suspicious, but he cannot find it in himself to care. “I just, I don’t want him to get back and there not being anyone there to take care of him. Please?”

It’s enough to convince them; they won’t find anything, he knows it deep in his bones, but it gives him the time and the space to go back to the warehouse and do what is necessary.

It takes some convincing to get Charles to let go of Edwin enough to stand up, his hands sliding down Edwin’s arms like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and it’s then when Edwin’s gaze gets caught by something that should be impossible.

There’s red on Charles’ fingers.

Not the red Edwin associates with him, but the red of dried blood and fresh wounds and overwhelming pain; Charles’ fingers are stained with blood, his nails torn to the flesh, some missing ,his knuckles scraped and bruised.

A gasp escapes him, because they cannot get hurt, they are already dead. Wounds, even those from iron, are fleeting, fade within minutes. And yet, Charles’ hands are battered, bloodied, like he had just been punching a wall.

Without thinking, Edwin takes them in his, fingers delicately gripping Charles’ wrists as not to hurt his poor, wounded hands any further, as he raises them up for inspection.

“What happened?”, he asks and hears his voice breaking, feels his heart do the same.

Charles’ eyes flicker downwards and there’s a fleeting look of recognition there, but nothing more. No surprise, no confusion, not even pain.

“Oh, yeah”, he says distractedly, turning his hands within Edwin’s grasp. “It happened a few weeks ago, when I was trying to dig through the concrete. Started out with just a scrapes that healed again, no problem, but then at some point they just stayed. Don’t really know what they’re about.”

“Do they hurt?”

“Yeah”, Charles says easily, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t send Edwin’s mind spiralling. “But you get used to it, don’t you?”

It’s the warehouse again because it’s always the warehouse because Edwin has gotten lost there, and Charles has to get him back, no matter what.

So he marches into there, cricket bat brandished, and sends the cats scattering. Their King has not yet returned, his throne empty and Charles’s non-existent, aching heart seizes in his chest, like it does every time he looks at that horrible pile of palettes.

For a moment, he wants to beat it into splinters even more than he already has, wants to reduce it to dust, but then he stops himself.

It’s not what he is there to do.

One of the cats is too slow; Charles catches it easily, even if it is scratching and screaming and twisting its little body in a futile attempt to break free.

Charles doesn’t want to hurt it, but if that is what is necessary, he will.

“Tell me where he took my friend”, he hisses at the creature, ignoring that the scratches sting like fire, ignoring that the cat is most likely terrified of him. “If you don’t I’m going to crush every bone in your body and I won’t even regret it.”

There is a moment of silence, and Charles sees his hands covered in blood, feels thin bones splinter in his grip, imagines a life going out because of him, and he doesn’t want to do it, but he will if he has to.

Its little legs kick out again, before they go still and then, with the most contempt Charles has ever heard in another being’s voice, it says, “There is a cave south of here where the King sometimes goes when he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Is Edwin there?”, Charles asks, a hint of hope blooming in his chest, because it’s a direction at least, a possibility. Yet, he tightens his fingers just so, just enough to let the cat know he means it.

“If you will find him, it will be there”, the cat replies and Charles breathes a sigh of relief, and lets go.

Edwin tries not to watch Charles say goodbye to Crystal, but it’s impossible not to, because Charles won’t let go of his hand. And Edwin cannot feel it, but he knows that Charles’ knuckles are still raw and his nails torn down to the flesh, and it is impossible to think of anything else.

“You’ll take care of yourself, okay?”, Crystal says, and reaches out to hug Charles, who goes willingly, their joined hands dragging Edwin closer, too. Their joined hands, Charles’ bruised and bleeding because of Edwin.

“’Course I will”, Charles answers and buries his face in Crystal’s hair; Edwin wants to tear him away from her and keep him to himself for the rest of forever. “You, too, though. And take care of Niko.”

“I will. Maybe she wants to come with me to London. See the sights. The agency. The haunted vending machine.”

The words give Edwin a start; that case, the vending machine that used to be haunted until Charles and he convinced the ghost stuck in there to move on in 2002, is nothing Crystal should know about. It’s one of the cases Charles and he still refer to sometimes when they pass that particular machine, a little inside joke.

That Crystal knows about it, that this Niko does as well, is an almost physical blow to Edwin’s chest, and for a moment, he does not know why.

But then Charles pulls back, his bloodied hand in Edwin’s still, and says, “That’d be brills. And we can make a few new memories, too. Good ones, this time.”

And suddenly, it is so clear: in the last three decades and some, there have been almost no memories they haven’t shared, and suddenly, there are six weeks of Charles’ existence that Edwin hasn’t been part of and the realisation of it feels like it’s ripping him to shreds.

“We should go”, he says, before he thinks of it, and it is unkind and cruel and selfish to ask Charles to cut his goodbyes short; yet Edwin cannot help but feel relief when Charles looks at him for a second and nods. “I’ll see you in two days, okay, Crys?”

And Crystal, who has a nickname too, nods, and Edwin breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

Charles drags the girls with him to the woods to the south, unsure where to find the cave and yet determined to do so.

Chances are that Crystal is just humouring him, but Charles doesn’t care. And it doesn’t matter, does it, because it’s her who finds it in the end.

“This doesn’t look very nice for a kitty”, Niko comments as they come closer; Charles still isn’t certain if she knows what and who they are looking for, but he doesn’t have the time stop and explain it, not if Edwin might be here, might be hurt, might be being tortured.

“I’m not sure if the Cat King would describe himself as a kitty”, Crystal replies as they get close enough to see into the cave, “But in general, I agree. I don’t think this looks nice for anyone in particular.”

She’s right; it looks damp and overgrown with weed, not a place fit for a king, but maybe for a prisoner.

“You wait outside”, Charles tells them, because he can’t die anymore, and because he isn’t sure if he wants his new friends to see what he’ll become if faced with the Cat King now. “If I need help, I’ll shout for you.”

Maybe Crystal answers, maybe she doesn’t; Charles doesn’t wait to hear it, just pulls out his bat and barges into the cave, ready to knock the whiskers off the damned creature that has taken his best friend, the best person in the world.

Inside, the cave is cosy, carpeted, a large bed and a bar crammed into a corner; it’s magic, quite obviously.

And it’s empty.

Being back in London feels right, even if the hand in Edwin’s still feels wrong.

Not because Edwin doesn’t want to hold Charles hand – he finds, although he never would have considered it before, that the weight of Charles’ hand in his is comforting, the pressure of his fingers grounding, that the occasional tug makes his heart skip a metaphorical beat – but because even without feeling, he is constantly reminded of the state of them, the blood caked under Charles’ fingernails.

Almost, he raises their joined hands again to see if maybe, some of the bruises have healed, but when Edwin turns around, Charles is looking at him with such wonder, such care, such lingering pain, that it takes his breath away.

That look alone is like a stab, a full-body blow, and Edwin hates himself for having caused it, for thinking about his petty jealousies when Charles has been through six weeks of what must have been Hell.

“Charles”, he says softly, because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he doesn’t even get to finish saying his name; before he does, Charles pulls him closer, into another hug, that feels almost as desperate as the one they shared back at the warehouse, kneeling on the ruined concrete floor.

“I thought I lost you”, Charles sobs into his shoulder, and the only thing Edwin can do is hold him. “I didn’t want to believe it for a second, but you were gone for so long and I thought- I didn’t think I’d ever be here again, I didn’t think I’d be here again with you, I didn’t-”

It makes Edwin think of what Crystal said an ocean away, that Charles didn’t want to leave the warehouse, not without Edwin, and there are tears in his eyes now, spilling over and impossible to stop, because Charles there on the warehouse floor, unmoving as the world changes around him, is the worst thing he has ever imagined.

He hugs him closer, and Charles buries his face in the crook of Edwin’s neck, hot tears spilling against Edwin’s skin and soaking into his blazer, changing the fabric in the most fundamental of fashions.

The girls find him eventually.

Charles isn’t certain how long he has been sitting there, but he isn’t sure he cares anymore, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know where he is, so he can’t save him, which means Edwin is somewhere out there, alone and lost and most likely hurt. And he must be waiting for Charles to come, because Charles has always come, Charles has promised him, again and again, that he would always come.

And now, Charles doesn’t know where to go.

He doesn’t know he’s crying until Crystal is crouching before him, dabbing at his cheeks with a crumpled tissue, and it’s like everything falls apart around him, beneath him, inside him, because Edwin isn’t here and Charles doesn’t know how to get him back.

They eventually part, although Edwin isn’t sure he likes it; he’s not used to this kind of closeness, and yet it feels good to hold Charles, to comfort him.

It’s not like Charles goes far either, he keeps one of his poor, battered hands on Edwin’s wrist and drags him to their sofa, pulls him down until Charles can rest his feet on Edwin’s lap, their fingers still intertwined.

At first, it’s difficult to find somewhere to put his other hand, the one that is so used to holding books when he sits here, but Charles looks at him hopefully as he fidgets, until Edwin puts it down on top of Charles’ thin ankle, fingers snaking around to hold it.

“Do you want to tell me about what happened?”, Edwin asks after a few moments of silence – not uncomfortable, but heavy still – but Charles shakes his head almost immediately, dark curls bouncing.

“I’d rather not”, he says, and it sounds prim, almost rehearsed; it hurts in a new, novel way to think that Charles feels like he has to prepare answers when talking to him. “It wasn’t… pleasant. Do you wanna tell me how the Cat King kept you there for so long?”

His immediate response is no, he doesn’t want to tell Charles just what he had to do to appease the Cat King. There is an explanation ready on his lips, one he has rehearsed, back when there were lips on his throat, leaving imperceptible marks, but then he thinks of Charles’ hands, of his eyelashes clumped together with tears, and Charles deserves the truth, especially because there is so little else Edwin can give him.

“He asked for a kiss. Or rather, several”, he explains, then, because he isn’t certain how much Charles understood back then, on the warehouse floor, “For me, it was only a few hours, but wherever he took me, time must have been stretched there. It is the only explanation I can come up with.”

And he expects a chuckle, a smile, anything at all, but Charles’ eyes go dim again, go dull, and Edwin hates himself with renewed passion for causing it.

Charles isn’t sure how they end up in Niko’s room; he cannot remember walking, cannot remember teleporting either. But they do, and he is still crying, surrounded by pink and purple and bright yellow, and there are two sets of arms around him and they still don’t make him feel better.

He can’t remember the last time he cried, and he doesn’t think he ever cried like this before, not even with his father’s belt raining pain down on him. This is worse, because this is Edwin, and this is forever, and this is all his fault.

“Maybe the cat just didn’t know”, Crystal says softly, rubbing a hand along his back; for a brief moment, Charles wishes he could at least feel this. “Maybe their King doesn’t tell them much, I don’t think kings usually do. We’ll just keep looking. We’ll find someone who does.”

It’s meant to soothe, but it doesn’t; if anything it makes Charles cry harder, because who is left? He could go through the cats, one by one, and he will if necessary,, but if this one didn’t know, why should the next one be any better?

He doesn’t know how to answer, because any sound that comes from his lips is coated and drowned and swallowed by sobs, but he doesn’t have to, because Niko kisses the top of his head, and says, “You did mention a witch, maybe she knows? Maybe she has one of those crystal balls to look inside and find your friend!”

And she’s wrong, because Esther would never help them; and she’s right, because Charles has questions for her anyway.

A bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes quickly, thank God. Edwin isn’t sure what snuffed it out in the first place, but he swears not to make the same mistake a second time; his soul would not be able to take it.

He tries to keep the conversation light, only that so much of it seems to be caught up in everything that has happened.

It’s unusual, having to tread lightly around Charles, and Edwin hates it with a passion that surprises even himself. But it just feels so wrong, even more so than watching Crystal’s hand on Charles’ back, hearing her mention anecdotes from a life she wasn’t part of.

So, when he again almost asks Charles just how Crystal could have known about the cursed vending machine, he instead picks up the book lying on their side table and holds it up without even looking at the title.

“Do you want me to read you something?”, he asks, because back when they first met they occasionally did this, especially on winter nights whose cold they couldn’t feel, when Charles still remembered dying.

For a second, there is silence, Charles’ thumb brushing warm across the back of Edwin’s hand, and Edwin could live in this moment for the rest of his existence.

“The Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids?”, Charles asks, and there is a hint of his usual smile curling around his lips, a ghost of his normal teasing.

“I could get another book”, Edwin counters, and gives Charles a smile in hopes of getting a real one in return, “but I would have to get up to get it.”

And Charles is shaking his head immediately, and the smile on his lips grows into something Edwin almost recognises.

He reads the Complete Encyclopedia of Uncommon and Rare Arachnids to Charles for hours.

They get to E.

“Don’t do this”, Crystal repeats for the dozenth time, but Charles doesn’t slow down his steps, doesn’t even think about it. “Charles! Don’t do this. You remember the last time, she’s dangerous.”

“I know”, he answers, and he does. It’s just that it doesn’t matter. “That’s why she might have Edwin. Because she’s dangerous. Or she might at least know where he is. I can’t, Crystal.”

And he does stop, just for a second, turns around to see her and Niko trailing after him, Crystal obviously distressed, Niko most likely just confused. And he wants to care so much, but he just can’t.

Not when it’s Edwin.

“You stay out of this, Crys, please. But I can’t, not when it’s him. If there is any chance that Esther knows what that goddamned Cat King has done to Edwin, then I have to try. I have to.” He doesn’t expect Crystal to understand; they don’t know each other for long, it’s a miracle she’s even here still. “He’s my best friend. He would do the same for me.”

For a moment, nothing.

Then Crystal’s expression softens, like she might understand after all, and she nods.

“Alright”, she says, “Niko and I will stay around the corner and I’ll try to read her mind. But be careful, Charles. You won’t be much help to Edwin if you join him wherever he is.”

Night falls and they are still wrapped up into their cocoon of warmth on the couch, Charles’ hand by now a familiar weight in Edwin’s.

“I know you want to ask”, Charles says into the comfortable silence, and Edwin rejoices just for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “And I’ll tell you everything you wanna know, just… not now, okay? I want to enjoy having you back before I have to think about all that again.”

“Of course”, Edwin answers and he means it, understands it, too. He looks down at Charles’ hand in his and that is enough for now. “Whenever you are ready. There is no rush, we have the rest of forever to figure it out.”

Charles’ fingers twitch in his and it must be the light, but the knuckles look slightly less raw, less torn. Without thinking, Edwin lifts their hands to his lips and presses a kiss on the wounds, hoping that it won’t cause more pain.

It gets a response, at least, a sharp intake of breath, Charles’ fingers clenching around his, but when Edwin looks up at Charles, allowing their hands to drop once more, his eyes are wide and warm and a little alive.

“Doesn’t hurt”, Charles answers the question Edwin has yet to ask, but his voice sounds a little strangled still. “It’s just that you don’t usually do… any of this. I thought the hand holding would be almost too much, I just couldn’t let go.”

Because I need to make sure you’re really back, he doesn’t say, but Edwin hears it anyway. And the sentiment hurts, the thought that Charles thinks physical touch is a burden to him to the point of trying to let go of Edwin’s hand for his sake.

“I do not mind it in the slightest”, he declares, making sure to tighten the grip he has on Charles’ hand. “Not if it’s you.”

And Charles’ eyes widen once more, a spark in them igniting, and Edwin kisses his knuckles, one by one, vowing that he won’t let go until Charles can look at him without fear in his eyes.

“Esther!”, he yells before he has even reached the door, ready to barge in without knocking, even if Crystal has implored him to at least stay outside of Esther’s house. “If you don’t come out, I swear to God, I will come and find you and-”

“What?”, the door swings open and Esther is standing there, pipe at her lips as she regards Charles with a put upon kind of disinterest. “I heard you boys were still in town, but oh my God, can’t you let a woman cook up her revenge in peace? You boys are so annoying.”

If he was still alive, his teeth would splinter from how hard Charles is clenching them; his fingers are itching to grab the bat and just try and mash her face in.

“Do you know where Edwin is?”, he asks instead, because that’s more important than feeling her skull split apart again.

“Who’s Edwin?”, she drawls, taking a drag from her pipe and blowing the smoke into Charles’ face. “Is that the other one? I can’t keep up with you kids and your stupid little names.”

“That’s him, yeah”, Charles answers and God, he wants to smash her kneecaps in, he wants to beg her to help, he wants to storm past her and tear her house apart until he finds Edwin. “Do you know where he is?”

“You seem desperate”, Esther says, smirking, taking another drag from her pipe. “I like it. What’s it worth to ya?”

“Everything”, he replies, although he shouldn’t, because in the end, it’s the only answer he can give.

“Love that. Not for you, but for me.” Esther is sizing him up, obviously considering something Charles won’t like the least, and yet he knows that he will do it, no matter what it is she asks, if she can only tell him where to find Edwin. “It’s gonna cost you, and I mean, like, a lot.”

“I’ll pay it”, Charles answers without a second of hesitation, and Esther smirks in a way that should make him regret his words; it doesn’t. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

Sometimes, Edwin forgets how different they get to experience time; sometimes he's forcibly reminded of the fact. Because Crystal and Niko find them like this, wrapped up in each other.

Part of Edwin wants to tear himself away from Charles, although there is nothing untoward they are doing, but another, one he understands even less, wants to press closer, wants to kiss Charles' knuckles again and let the girls see.

"You made it!", Charles exclaims when he sees Crystal, voice sounding at least a fraction alive, and Edwin loves it, despises it at the same time. "How was the trip?"

They are dripping rain water on the floor, Edwin belatedly realises, but he decides against mentioning it anyway, less for their sake and more for Charles’.

“It was alright. Long, mostly”, Crystal answers, pushing a hand through her thick curls and sending a spray of water down onto their wooden floor. Edwin does his best not to notice it. “How are you? Is everything alright?”

The concern is palpable in her voice, almost a physical entity in the room, and Charles seems touched by it, his eyes softening and another sliver of a smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Edwin’s here”, he replies, like it explains everything, and Crystal nods, as if she agrees that it does.

Her gaze flickers over to Edwin for a second, then back to Charles, whose fingers clench around Edwin’s almost imperceptibly before he shakes his head, the motion so small Edwin almost misses it.

He’s about to ask what he is going on, but then Niko steps forward, spreading even more water on their floors, and Edwin is distracted by the bright teal of her coat, the white of her hair that wasn’t there before he was taken.

“You must be Edwin”, she says and holds out a hand that Edwin cannot take without letting go of Charles’. “Charles has told us so much about you.”

“That would be me, yes. I apologise, my hand is currently quite occupied”, Edwin answers, then raises their joined hands to help explain why he cannot shake Niko’s; an expression flits across Crystal’s face, too quick for Edwin to make sense of it, yet Charles seems to understand it easily.

It shouldn’t bother Edwin as much as it does.

“Ooh, that’s okay”, Niko says, and she sounds like she means it. Her eyes are wide and happy and suddenly, even without knowing much about her, Edwin is glad that she was with Charles when he was gone. “You should be holding Charles’ hand, that’s much more important. I completely understand.”

And silently, Edwin agrees.

Esther is grinning at him in a way that reminds Charles of the snake Edwin had found in her house, cold and dangerous and like he should be running from that smile.

Instead, he takes a step forward, and he would take another if Crystal wasn’t suddenly next to him, yanking him back.

“She doesn’t know a thing”, she half hisses, half shouts, her voice as deadly as Esther’s smile. “I read her thoughts and there is nothing in there. She just wants you to promise her that you’ll do what she asks, and then use you.”

Her grip is so strong Charles feels it through his clothes, through the barrier to physical touch that is death, and as she yanks him back, Charles feels the heart he doesn’t have break in his chest once more, because for a moment, he had had hope.

Esther cackles and Charles knows there are tears spilling down his cheeks, even if he cannot feel them.

“Well, it was worth a try”, she says, sounding like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter at all, and something in Charles just snaps.

Crystal’s hand on his shoulder still feels solid, but the cricket bat in his hand does even more so, especially when it connects with Esther’s still-smirking face.

While the girls go and dry off, Charles sinks back into the cushions, his eyes fluttering close. Almost, he could look relaxed, but Edwin can still see the tension in his body, like a spring curled tight and waiting for the lightest touch to set it off.

Edwin wants to soothe him, but he doesn’t know how to, especially not when there is still so much he doesn’t know about those six weeks.

He is trying to figure out a way how to ask, or at least hint at it, but then Charles opens his eyes again, and they are softer than they should be when Charles has been through so much.

“I think you’ll really like Niko”, he says, and he sounds wistful somehow; Edwin desperately wishes he knew why. “She’s pretty brills. Might have saved me once or twice.”

“Saved you? What from?”

Edwin imagines Esther and her giant snake and Hell and everything in between, but Charles’ eyes don’t change, neither does his voice.

“Myself, really.”

In the end, it takes both of the girls to pull him off Esther.

His whole body is aching from her iron cane in ways he had forgotten he could hurt, but the pain is distant, far away; the only thing that matters is that she had said she knew how to get Edwin back and she had given him a sliver of hope and then she had snuffed it out again.

Another thing that is far away: he is screaming, or crying, or both; two sets of hands drag him down the steps, and Charles knows he’s fighting them, because… because he doesn’t know what else to do.

And then he’s just crying.

Arms pull him close against a solid chest, fingers card through his hair, and there is nothing stopping the sobs wrecking through his body, so violently Charles feels them almost like he had felt the hits from Esther’s cane.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there, crouched on the ground, but it is a long, long time.

When they come back, Niko hops onto the sofa’s backrest and Charles looks up at her with obvious affection.

“Do you need some band-aids for your hands?”, she asks, placing a little box on her knee. “I brought the Hello Kitty ones.”

The words make no sense to Edwin, but Charles nods, and Edwin hates how much he doesn’t know, hates that they ever had to spend time apart.

Charles twists and turns until he can put one of his bruised hands into Niko’s lap, who inspects it, before a bright, bright smile spreads across her face, like a sunflower opening to greet the morning.

“It looks better!”, Niko tells him, and she’s right; the knuckles are still red, but have scabbed over, the cuts are a little less prominent against Charles’ warm skin.

“Does it?”, Charles asks, and sits up straighter to see for himself. “I guess your dad was right, then.”

“I told you.” Niko is pulling a pastel pink band-aid from her box, unwrapping it before placing it gently across one of the deeper scratches on the back of Charles’ hand. It covers only half of it, if even.

“Charles”, Edwin starts before he can stop himself, “what is the purpose of this? Those patches won’t make your wounds heal any faster.”

It takes a moment, but then Charles turns to look at him; it’s a silly thought, but it almost feels like Edwin has missed his eyes on him.

“They won’t”, Charles agrees, and his lips are curved into an almost-smile. “But it will make them heal better.”

Charles cannot remember how they get back to the butcher shop, but they do, because Charles ends up sitting on Niko’s bed, while she rummages through her night stand.

He isn’t certain what she is looking for, but she finds it with a little ah!, and returns to the bed with a box in her hand. It’s metal, dented and scratched in a way that shows it has been loved; she opens it and there are dozens of colourful band-aids inside, waiting to patch someone up again.

“Now, I don’t know Edwin”, she says in a strange cadence, like she is trying to figure out what to say while speaking.”But if you love him so much, then I don’t think he would like you to be hurt. And since he isn’t here to make it better, I will try.”

The words make Charles’ eyes sting with tears once more, because Niko is right, Edwin wouldn’t want him to hurt; because she is right, Edwin isn’t here.

“Ghosts don’t-”, he starts, because if he doesn’t talk, he’ll start crying again, “Our wounds heal differently. Those band-aids won’t make them heal faster.”

Niko stills for a moment, then takes one of his hands in hers, which is scratched from Esther’s cane. The wounds won’t last more than a day, Charles knows it, but Niko still touches his hand with so much care, as if she thinks she could hurt him.

“My dad used to put band-aids on my knees when I fell from my bike”, she tells him as if it’s an answer to a question Charles hasn’t asked; maybe it is. “And he always said that even if that wouldn’t make the scrapes heal faster, it would make them heal better.”

And Niko looks up at him, her fingers cradling his hand like she thinks he can still feel it.

“Do you want a pink or a green one?”

“Pink”, Charles says, and doesn’t bother to blink the tears away this time.

Niko covers Charles’ hands in band-aids until she runs out of them, Charles’ wounds too numerous for what her little chest holds. They feel strange against Edwin’s palm when Charles switches the hand he is holding Edwin’s with halfway through, the plastic so different to Charles’ skin.

He watches the exchange and it tugs at his heart in ways he doesn’t understand; it hurts and it heals, because at least Charles had someone to put little plastic patches over his wounds, even if how familiar both of them are with the process means that there must have been far more wounds than Edwin was aware of.

At the very end of it, Niko places a kiss on Charles’ knuckles and Edwin’s lips ache in jealousy.

“Thank you”, Charles tells her, and she nods, bright and happy, before she starts sliding off the backrest.

She stops, though, and cocks her head as she looks at Edwin.

“The kiss makes the wounds heal even better”, she says, like imparting a secret, and then, she’s gone.

“You can’t keep doing this”, Crystal tells him the second they are alone, in a voice that allows no objections; Charles knows he will object anyway. “Charles, I know you cannot die a second time, but you cannot keep doing this. Esther hurt you and we had to watch and I just. I can’t do that again. I know he’s your best friend, but you’re running yourself into the ground with this and I don’t know if I can watch it happen.”

She looks like she means it and Charles wants to help, but if there is one thing he cannot give her, it’s this.

“I can’t”, he answers, and looks down onto his hands, peppered with brightly-coloured band-aids someone who cares about him put there, up at Crystal who saved him from being bound to a witch’s whim, and yet it all pales in comparison to the gaping hole in his chest where Edwin’s presence usually lingers. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t stop, not as long as he’s still gone.”

He wants to tell her about how Edwin would do the same for him, about how he has saved Edwin from a hundred monsters and will save him from a thousand more, about how he isn’t sure if he can continue existing without Edwin at his side.

But he doesn’t get to, because Crystal takes a deep breath, and asks, “What if he’s not trying to come back?”

The question shocks Charles into silence, but Crystal continues talking anyway, words blurring into each other with how fast she is speaking.

“I didn’t want to say anything, because I know how much you care for him, but maybe he just left. Maybe that is why we can’t find him anywhere, why the cats couldn’t tell you anything either. Because he doesn’t want to be found.”

And it’s-

It’s the most ludicrous thing Charles has ever heard in the fifty-odd years he has spent on this Earth.

“No”, he tells Crystal, “No, you’re wrong. And not because I couldn’t bear it although I really, really couldn’t, but… that’s not how we are, Crystal. He wouldn’t leave. Never. If there is anything in the world I know for certain, it’s that Edwin wouldn’t leave. And that means he’s out there somewhere and he is hurt or captured, and he is waiting for me to come and get him. And I will, Crystal, no matter what happens, I will.”

There’s nowhere in the agency for the girls to sleep, so they set out to find a hotel, and Edwin breathes a sigh of relief, even if he hates himself for it only moments later.

He shouldn’t be so jealous of Charles’ attention, his affection, especially not when Crystal and Niko have stuck with him for six horrifying weeks, and Edwin should be nothing but grateful to them for taking care of the best, the most important person in existence instead of him.

But the door closes behind them, and it’s just Charles and him once more, and Edwin is weak, is possessive and greedy and looks down at Charles’s hand in his, and thinks that at least one thing is right in the world.

“Alright”, Charles says and turns to look at Edwin. “You can ask me. Not about everything all at once, maybe, but you can ask me.”

It should take him at least a second to understand what Charles is talking about, but it doesn’t; Charles says you can ask me, and there’s a thousand questions swarming through his head immediately, begging to be spoken aloud.

He nods, but before he can decide on any one thing to ask, he takes Charles back to the sofa and makes him sit down, their hands still loosely joined between them.

Touch is something Charles has always needed, but now, with Charles so hurt, so vulnerable, Edwin realises that he needs it almost as much.

There are so many things he wants to know that it feels impossible to settle on one thing, at least to start with, until suddenly, there’s a question that blazes through his mind so painfully that Edwin speaks it out-loud before he has a moment to reconsider.

“Did you ever doubt I would come back?”, he asks, then corrects himself, “No, did you ever doubt that I wanted to come back?”

He tells himself that he’ll accept any answer Charles will give him and it’s the truth; another truth: if Charles ever doubted that the only place Edwin wants to be is at his side, it will shatter his heart to pieces.

“Of course not”, Charles says, not missing a beat, and Edwin gets to keep his heart after all. His voice is soft and his eyes are, too, even if their light is still dimmed. “I’d never doubt that. It’s you and me against the world, isn’t it?”

Edwin nods, and there are tears in his eyes he does not deserve to cry.

“Thank you”, he says, unsure what he is thanking Charles for: for still being here, for believing in Edwin, in the strength of their friendship, for enduring all of it. “I know it must have been Hell, because that’s what it would have been had the roles been reversed, but something must have happened, because your hands…”

Without wanting to, he looks down at Charles’ fingers, wrapped in bright plastic, his own woven between them, pristine because he allowed the most important person in existence to go through this alone.

“I’m not really sure”, Charles replies, and when Edwin looks up again, it’s Charles who is staring at their joined hands. “To be honest, I didn’t really stop to think about it. We found out about this other dimension the Cat King uses to escape, and I just went mental, didn’t I? Started trashing the warehouse completely, and when my bat broke, well. I just used my hands. I guess they’re not as sturdy.”

He tries for a smile, and it rips Edwin’s heart to pieces.

“You-”, he starts, but doesn’t get the words out, because the thought is too much to bear, the images of Charles ripping his fingers to shreds to find him too vivid.

“Had to get you back somehow, didn’t I?”, Charles asks, answers, still smiling, and Edwin cannot take a second more, so instead, he pulls Charles against his chest and hugs him so tightly he knows that, if he had any bones left, he’d feel them creak.

Maybe he should be discouraged, maybe it should be difficult to go back out and start looking for Edwin all over again, but it isn’t.

What would be difficult is sitting down and waiting; what would be impossible is to let Edwin stay wherever he is being kept.

So, he walks.

Past meadows and across streams, up hillsides and then looks down into the valleys and still finds nothing, nothing at all. It’s maddening, it’s the worst thing he has ever felt, because the scenery is beautiful, the days long and the sun bright, and Charles feels like he is dragging himself through barbed wire and broken glass.

When he gets Edwin back, he’ll never let him out of his sight again, he swears when he walks up to the lighthouse once more, for the fifteenth or five hundredth time, sparing a look at the ghosts sitting there, watching the water. He’ll keep him close, keep him in his sight, keep one hand in Edwin’s, no matter if he likes it or not, for the rest of eternity, just to make sure he won’t stray too far.

It becomes a thing between them when they are alone.

Charles will look at him and say, one question, or three questions, and Edwin will go through his mental catalogue of them, realising how much he hates that there is anything about Charles he does not know all over again, every single time.

How long did you wait in the warehouse at first?, he asks, and Charles says, days. Crystal had to force me to leave it for the first time.

Why is Niko’s hair white now?, he asks another time when they sitting on the roof, the sounds of the city dulled down to a gentle buzz. Oh, that was mental, actually, Charles answers, and launches into a story about gnomes crawling from her mouth, and Edwin sits there and watches him, and wishes Charles would tell the story like he would have two months ago, animated and excited about it, instead of matter-of-factly.

How long would you have stayed on that floor?, he asks, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear the answer this time, only knows he has to. And Charles looks at him strangely, fondly, sadly, and says, forever, mate.

Crystal catches up with him at the warehouse again, where he is pacing on the horrible, hated concrete floor, thinking about battering it open and seeing if he can find Edwin between the pieces. She’s been looking at him more often now, so openly worried Charles sometimes finds it difficult to hold her gaze, but there is nothing to be done about it, is there?

It’s the same way she is looking at him now, forehead furrowed and her dark eyes on him feeling like they are taking Charles apart, piece for piece, thought for thought.

“What are you looking for?”, she asks like she doesn’t know it, like the answer has ever changed.

He doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t know how to say Edwin’s name without breaking into tears, because if he says his name, he might not stop anytime soon.

“Charles”, she tries again and it stops his feet mid-step, “Charles, what if you don’t find him? What if he never comes back?”

It’s words that never should be spoken, because they cannot be allowed to be true, and Charles closes his eyes, just to save himself from the look in Crystal’s eyes.

“I’ve been to Tragic Mick’s shop and I asked him about ghosts and their wandering, because you are scaring me”, she continues, “and he told me that the only ghosts who wander are those that killed themselves. And that scared me even more.”

And Charles wants to shake his head and tell her she’s wrong, but it feels like that somehow; like half of him died and he is doing everything he can to follow.

Niko comes to change Charles’ band-aids and Edwin doesn’t think about it much, just watches her take out the box and tell Charles about the characters depicted on them. The wounds themselves have healed slightly, and even if no one knows why, Edwin breathes a sigh of relief at the discovery.

He expects Niko to let Charles choose a colour again, like she has done before, but instead she turns to him, who is just there because Charles is still holding his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I think you should choose the colour this time”, Niko tells him, holding out a hand with three different band-aids in it, three different colours, three different patterns.

“It’s not my hands, though”, Edwin protests, but Niko just shoves her hand closer.

“No”, she agrees, “but they’re your wounds, too.”

And Edwin glances at Charles, who, for once, isn’t looking back, takes in the sharp cut of his jaw and the dullness of his eyes, thinks of his bleeding knuckles and broken nails, and knows she is right.

“This one, then”, he says, and leaves the green one, covered with leaves, the yellow one, covered with stars, and picks up the red one, covered in hearts.

The thought doesn’t appear gradually, it rips through him one day when he is walking through the library, forgetting to avoid the bookcases and just phasing through them instead.

Two days before, Niko, in a futile hope to console him, had put a hand on his shoulder and given it a squeeze.

“If he has come back from Hell, then I’m sure he’ll come back from where he is now. Especially if he knows you are waiting for him”, she had said, and back then, Charles had just tried giving her a smile, not thinking anything of the comment.

But now, it’s like a bolt from the heavens, a thought so devastating it leaves him gasping in the middle of the room, clutching at his chest like he still had a heart to calm.

He knows little to nothing about the Cat King, because in the end, Edwin had always been the brains of their operation, the one with the encyclopedic knowledge of anything supernatural, but something he knows intimately are Edwin’s stories about Hell.

Most of them, he has heard at least a dozen times, and even if that is not enough to imagine the horrors there, it’s enough to know that the entities there use souls like bargaining chips.

Edwin had told him before that he had been traded from demon to demon, and back then, in the comfort of their agency, Charles had shivered and put a hand on Edwin’s shoulder in lieu of pulling him against his chest, tucking Edwin’s head under his chin and never letting him go again.

Now, a picture forms in his mind that is so terrifying Charles feels like screaming, and Edwin is not here, so Charles will claw him from the mouth of Hell itself this time.

“Charles, could I borrow Edwin for a second?”, Crystal asks one evening, and Charles’ fingers tense around his own.

It’s a strange phenomenon that has only increased with time; occasionally, Edwin thinks he can almost feel Charles’ touch, not as just resistance, but like he used to when he was still alive.

“It won’t be long and I’ll bring him back, I promise”, she adds, not even bothering to ask Edwin, just assuming he will follow her.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles eventually answers, even if a second too late, and slowly, ever so slowly, untangles their fingers from where their hands had been resting between them. It’s the first time since Edwin has come back that they are not touching, and Edwin feels the loss of it immediately, his fingers itching to find Charles’ once more.

For now, though, he only gives Charles a smile before he follows Crystal outside, where she stops immediately.

Her expression is one Edwin cannot decipher, anger lingering behind her eyes, but almost concealed by something much greater, much more important.

“Do you have any idea how much Charles loves you?”, she asks, and the anger is there in her voice, the other thing is, too. “I know I asked you before and you said yes, but I don’t think you do. And I think you need to.”

“I am perfectly aware-”, Edwin starts, but he doesn’t get far.

“You are not”, Crystal interrupts him and she sounds so certain that Edwin feels helpless hearing it, because even if he doesn’t believe her, there are things now that she knows about Charles and he doesn’t. “I watched that boy beat up a witch that almost took out all three of us, because she had lied about knowing where you were, and the only reason he didn’t bash her immortal head in was because Niko and I pulled him off of her. He was willing to sell his soul to her just to get you back. To a demon, too. He nearly ripped off his own fingers trying to reach you, because he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.”

She pauses for a moment and Edwin can’t speak, can hardly think, his brain trying to sort through the information and failing, because it hurts too much.

“I thought he was going to die, Edwin. Cease existing. Whatever”, she continues, crossing her arms in front of her chest, and the anger is still there, and Edwin understands it now, deserves it. “I went to see him every day at that warehouse after he had just sat down and accepted his fate and every day I expected him to just not be there anymore. That’s how much he loves you, I thought he was going to disappear just because you had, too. He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone.”

“Crystal…”

“If you hurt him, I’m going to make you regret you were ever born”, she finishes, and Edwin believes her without reservations, “and the only reason I won’t kill you a second time is because I know it would kill Charles, too.”

It’s not easy to get Crystal to tell him where David is, but Charles manages anyway.

The roller-skating rink is dark and dirty, the concrete floor too close to the one in the warehouse for Charles not to shiver when seeing it for the first time. But it doesn’t matter, isn’t allowed to matter, because crouched in the corner is a human figure with shaggy hair and a too-large fur coat, and Charles wants to rip him apart for Crystal, wants to beg him to help for Edwin.

“Oi!”, he yells out and David scatters in a way that reminds Charles of a bug of some kind. “You remember me, yeah?”

“What do you want?”, David spits back, pressed against the wall and trying to look like he wouldn’t flee if Charles gave him an opportunity to do so. “Haven’t you ruined enough?”

“Didn’t ruin a thing”, Charles replies, but there’s no fire to it, because in the end, as much as he hates it, he needs the bastard’s help. “I need you to send me to Hell.”

If he wasn’t so desperate, if there wasn’t a constant loop of torture behind his eyes whenever he blinked, showing him thousands of ways that Edwin could be torn apart this second, he would try to find a better, a more subtle way of putting it, but there is, and Charles has long since stopped caring.

He hasn’t seen Edwin in more than three weeks and if his best friend in the world, the one person who never deserved to go to Hell, spent three weeks there because Charles was too stupid to put the pieces together, he will never forgive himself for it.

“What?”, David asks, and Charles has no time for this, for any of it.

“Hell. I need you to send me to Hell, because my friend might be there and I need to find him”, he repeats, and it takes a moment, but then David laughs, an ugly, rough sound.

“You want to go to Hell”, he repeats, like Charles hasn’t said so twice already. “Voluntarily.”

“Yes.” Charles closes his eyes for a second, wishing that the deep breaths he used to ask Edwin to take would still have the same effects on him as they did when he was still alive. “You don’t need to understand it, you just have to send me there. I’ll sell you my soul or whatever it is you do, I don’t care. I just need to get to Hell as quickly as possible.”

David still looks like he wants to laugh, but this time, he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step forward, raising his hands as if he was trying to placate Charles, a smile on his lips that Charles wants to knock off.

“Alright, alright”, he says, and Charles hates him and hates the Cat King and hates himself for letting it come to this. But it will be worth it, anything would be worth it if it brought Edwin back. He’ll figure out what to do about his own soul later. “I’ll get you to Hell, absolutely. But it sounds like you’re desperate, so I might need a bit more than just your soul to make it happen.”

“No.” He thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, all safe, all oblivious, hopes they’ll forgive him. “You’ll get my soul, and that’s it.”

David pretends to think about it, but Charles has dealt with enough demons to know he will accept; they are greedy creatures after all, and a soul is a soul is a soul.

“Okay”, he says at last, and still, Charles feels relief wash through him. Just hold on a little bit longer, Edwin. I’m coming. “I’ll take your soul. And I’ll send you to Hell. But I’ll choose the Circle.”

“Sure, whatever”, Charles replies and the smirk that David gives him should scare him, but he’s far past scaring. “I’ll find him no matter what.”

Crystal’s words echo in Edwin’s head when they return to the agency and Edwin slots back into the spot next to Charles, their fingers intertwining naturally.

He knows Charles loves him, of course he does. Has known it for thirty years and has it carved so deeply, so prominently into his heart that he’ll never forget it, yet something about Crystal’s words makes that knowledge scream in his chest when Charles looks at him, a little bit of his usual brightness returning to his eyes as soon as they touch.

It’s not frightening, that knowledge, but it’s not comforting either.

It’s just there, beating in his chest like a heart might, asking if Edwin feels the same.

And without a moment’s hesitation, Edwin answers.

Yes.

“Oh, you fucking won’t”, rings out Crystal’s voice just before Charles’ hand touches David’s, and for a moment, Charles hates her.

Then someone grips his shoulder and flings him backwards, and Crystal is standing there, breathing heavily, a cleaver in her hand, and for another moment, Charles loves her.

“You won’t fucking touch him”, she hisses, and David laughs, the sound just as rough, just as ugly.

“He came here by himself”, he tells her, grinning still. “He asked me to take his soul. He begged me to do it.”

“Well, the offer has been rescinded. And you better go wherever the fuck you came from, before I send you back there myself.”

“Crystal, I need him to-”, Charles starts, desperate, but he never gets to finish the sentence, because Crystal turns her head to look at him, and her eyes are blazing like fire, before they go white.

“No one needs him for anything”, she tells him and her voice is distant and emotionless and powerful, echoing in the empty space like it is made of a hundred women speaking.

And Crystal reaches out and puts a hand on the centre of David’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happens, then he is being flung back against the wall with an invisible force, kept there suspended.

“You won’t touch him again”, Crystal says and the other voices still echo within hers, leaving Charles breathless and awed and despondent. “And you won’t touch me either. Otherwise I’ll bury you so deep you’ll be begging me to send you back to Hell instead.”

And she lets him go; when she turns back to Charles, there’s a small pouch in her hand.

“Crystal said you almost sold your soul to a demon”, Edwin starts the next time Charles allows him a question.

Everything Crystal had told him has stuck with him, but this he had only realised much later, and it had scared him like hardly anything else had before.

Charles just nods, this time doesn’t even try for a smile, and Edwin is glad for it; he’s not sure if he could take it.

“I didn’t really think I had a choice”, he adds after a few moments, like it makes it better. “I thought the Cat King might have sold you to some kind of demon and that was why I couldn’t find you anywhere. And the idea of you, stuck down there… I couldn’t take it.”

“But there was no proof, there can’t even have been any indication that…”

“No, there wasn’t”, Charles replies and this time, he does smile, and the sight is as torturous as Edwin knew it was going to be. “But I had to make sure. No version of you getting dragged to Hell where I don’t come and get you, is there?”

His fingers, adorned with less band-aids than there were before, squeeze Edwin’s and for a moment, they almost feel warm, real.

And Edwin blinks back tears and thinks of Crystal saying, he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, and squeezes back.

“How am I supposed to get Edwin back now, Crystal?”, Charles sobs, the words coming out drowned in tears and desolation. “What if he’s in Hell and I can’t get him back?”

He’s on the floor of the roller-skating rink, David’s collapsed form just metres away, and Charles should move in case he wakes up again, but he can’t. His limbs are not moving, his thoughts spiralling, because the only thing that counts is that Edwin might be trapped in some kind of torture chamber in the one place Charles cannot reach.

Two familiar hands pull him up and into a hug that Charles cannot reciprocate, shaking too violently with the intensity of his sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Charles”, Crystal mutters into his shoulder, and she sounds shaken, sounds almost in tears. “Have you ever stopped for a second and thought what would happen if Edwin came back and you were in Hell?”

“Now that we’re all back, do you guys want to get back into detecting?”, Crystal asks them, and Charles flinches almost imperceptibly, before forcing a smile onto his pretty lips.

This time, at least, looking at it is a little less painful.

“Yeah, of course”, Charles says, “but maybe not right away. Unless Edwin…”

“No, I think a bit of a break would do us some good”, Edwin tells him before Charles can even finish the sentence. “Maybe once Charles’ hands have healed. We have no reason to rush it, do we?”

And watches as a little bit of light returns to Charles’ eyes.

It’s later, although Charles cannot tell exactly how much.

Crystal had to half-carry him out of the roller-skating rink, where they had both collapsed on the ground, unable or unwilling to move.

With time, Charles’ sobs had dried up, even though it feels like he has an ocean of them still stored inside his chest, lapping at his unbeating heart like waves. But Crystal had been right, he doesn’t know if Edwin is in Hell, just fears it more than anything else in this world.

“Charles?”, Crystal asks into the night air, sounding pensive, drained.

“Yeah?”

“I know you and Edwin are best friends, but that can’t be all that there is to it. Not with how you’ve been in the past weeks. What’s going on?”

It’s not the question he expected, it’s not even one he has ever asked himself before, but there is exhaustion so deep in his bones, paired with despair he didn’t know he could even feel, and Charles knows that Crystal deserves an answer.

So, he looks inside, pictures Edwin, his little smug smile when he wins at Clue and the elegance of his gestures and the way his voice softens when he knows Charles needs reassurance.

He thinks of Edwin, bathed in the light of the morning sun, and illuminated by the stars, thinks of Edwin’s wit and his brilliance and how easily he gets annoyed at period dramas on TV when their costumes aren’t historically accurate. Thinks of Edwin reading him to sleep when he was dying and reading him poetry afterwards when he found out that Charles had never truly liked a poem, and how Edwin’s voice had almost made him cry when he had recited Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale.

Thinks about how when he’s sad, it’s Edwin he wants to talk to, and when he’s happy, it’s the same thing, the same intensity.

Thinks about how no one has ever known him like this, inside and out, with all his flaws and imperfections and silly little quirks, and how Edwin does and still wants to keep him; how Charles knows just as much about him and feels the same.

Thinks about how it’s impossible to imagine a world without him in it, and how Charles never even wants to try doing so.

Thinks of Edwin and how he is the best, the brightest, the most important part of his existence.

“I love him”, he finally answers, and he’s choking on the words because they are true and yet he hasn’t known until a second ago. “Crystal, I love him. I love him so much and I never even got to tell him.”

And he’s crying again, just as hard as before, and Crystal reaches out and holds him until it’s morning again.

“Crystal and I found the vending machine”, Niko tells them the next day when the girls arrive around noon. She’s skipping, obviously excited as she sits down between them, completely ignoring that it means they have to rearrange their intertwined hands. “The one that was haunted. It was so cool, I got an orange soda out of it.”

She’s unpacking her band-aids, although nowadays, Charles doesn’t need many of them anymore, setting them out as a surgeon would their instruments, and no matter how charming Edwin finds her, the reminder that the girls know of the vending machine still makes something in Edwin’s chest clench uncomfortably.

“That’s great”, Charles says and maybe there is a little bit more light in his eyes than there was yesterday. He plucks a band-aid from Niko’s lap and hands it to her. “This one today, please.”

And it really isn’t great at all, but Edwin doesn’t know how to formulate the fact into a sentence that doesn’t sound like complete lunacy.

“And this one”, he says instead, and grabs a random band-aid too, just so he won’t make a fool of himself.

It’s the first time he has participated in the little ritual by his own volition and Niko smiles at him, almost a reward, before taking a look at the plaster he picked.

“That’s nice”, she tells him, and puts it down next to Charles’ choice for later use. “And really fitting. They’re in love in the anime.”

Charles’ hand twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else until Niko is finished.

“There is one more thing”, Crystal tells him as they are walking back to the butcher shop, after she has explained the power of her ancestors she has just discovered to him, or at least tried to. “When I was in David’s mind, I could see… something in the warehouse. Somewhere he thought about escaping to. I think it’s something like a little pocket dimension, if that makes sense. Maybe Edwin is in there.”

That night, Charles gives him another question, and Edwin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself.

“When did you tell Crystal and Niko about the Case of the Haunted Vending Machine of 2002?”

Charles looks surprised, and Edwin cannot blame him; it is such an inconsequential thing to ask when is so much else Edwin doesn’t know yet, but then his eyes soften a little, and there is a spark in his eyes that Edwin has missed dearly.

“I’m not entirely sure”, he says, and it makes Edwin feel a little better to know that: at least to Charles, it wasn’t an occasion that mattered. “But they asked about you sometime, especially Niko, after she could see me. About why I wanted to find you so badly, about how our life was like before we came to Port Townsend. And I thought the easiest thing was to just tell them about cases. And you were brilliant in the vending machine one.”

He smiles and for the first time since he got back, Edwin doesn’t have to suppress a flinch; it almost looks like the smile he is used to.

“So were you”, Edwin replies without thinking, and means it, too. His fingers tighten a little around Charles’ and he could swear he can feel skin against skin, flesh against flesh.

“We were pretty brilliant together.”

“We were”, Edwin replies and wants to pull Charles closer, wants to never let him go again, “And we still are.”

This time, Crystal doesn’t even try to stop him.

Charles walks into the warehouse, cricket bat in hand, vowing then and there that he won’t leave until he has found this pocket dimension, no matter what or where it is.

He starts with whatever is left of the furniture, smashing it to pieces and ripping those apart until they’re nothing more than splinters. The palettes strewn about are next, nails flying as Charles pulls the boards apart and leaves them scattered on the ground.

Then, the walls, tearing down the panelling, until the metal is bare and covered in dents and scratches and holes where his bat bust through the rust. He rips out the light fixtures and grinds them to dust under his loafers, shreds the nets hanging between the beams and leaves their tattered remains wherever he happens to be standing.

Finally, the floor itself, because if he has to dig down to Hell with his nails and teeth, he will.

The concrete cracks under the barrage of hits he rains down onto it, magic putting more force into the blows than his spectral muscles could, until the ground looks like a meteor hit.

It turns out to be too much for his bat, which splinters just like the palettes, the pillars, the concrete did, so Charles throws it away and uses his hands instead, shovelling away gravel and debris and chipped wood, digging deep into the ground until it, and Edwin, are the only things he can still think about.

Somewhere in between, his hands start bleeding, his nails cracking and ripping down to the flesh, but Charles pays them no mind, even as pain radiates up his arms with every punch, every blow, every cut.

It feels like the scratch of a cat’s claw, just a hundredfold, and it hurts, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing does.

“Why is this so important to you? All the questions, I mean. I know Crystal told you the gist of what happened during that time”, Charles asks after he has answered another one of Edwin’s queries. He looks relaxed, his head pillowed on Edwin’s lap, and when he looks up at him, Edwin knows he could count the lashes around his deep, dark eyes.

They’re less dull nowadays, but still don’t hold that one spark that Edwin misses the most of all.

“It’s silly”, he confesses, not because he wants to, but because Charles has shared so much with him that he deserves to have at least one question of his own answered truthfully. “It’s just that for decades, all of your memories were mine as well. And those six weeks… I wish I could change them, I wish you didn’t have to endure them, I wish I could take all of it away, so please, don’t think that this matters more to me than that.”

He takes a deep breath, something that he had forgotten about in Hell, something that Charles had showed him once more after they had met, something that now will always be Charles to him.

“Suddenly, there are six weeks in the middle of your existence, and I wasn’t part of a second of them. And I hate that, much more than I should.”

For a few, long moments, there is no answer, just Charles’ eyes on him, just his fingers brushing across Edwin’s knuckles.

“Edwin, you were there for every second of it”, Charles finally answers, and his eyes are still not as bright as they used to be, but they’re bright anyway. “You were at the heart of everything. I missed you in every single moment.”

His hands are bruised and bloody, some of his nails missing, the others torn down until they are little more than gaping wounds, as Charles tears another piece of concrete from the floor.

He has looked everywhere and Edwin isn’t here and it is a constant refrain in his head; he’s not here he’s not here he’s not here.

Occasionally, there’s tears mixing with the blood, but Charles doesn’t pay them any mind either.

On the third day, Crystal finds him, covered in dust and grime and blood and splinter of what might be wood or bone or whatever is left of his ruined heart.

She breathes out his name and it’s a sob; when he looks up at her, it takes a second until he recognises her.

“You can’t continue like this”, she says, and there are tears in his eyes, on her cheeks, dripping down her chin. “Edwin wouldn’t want you to torture yourself like this and I can’t watch it any longer. It’s been almost a month, Charles, you won’t find him like this.”

It takes a moment or two until he finds the words, remembers how to speak, and when he does, he knows he’s crying, too.

“But what else is there left I can do?”, he asks, and Crystal chokes on her tears, before she reaches out and pulls him into a hug.

“I don’t know, Charles. I wish I did.”

“Your hands are almost fine again”, Edwin remarks and lifts the one he is holding up to inspect it. There are just two band-aids left, one around his ring finger, one on the back of Charles’ hand, green and yellow respectively.

“I know”, Charles answers, lifting the other one, a single frog-themed plaster around his thumb. “It’s a miracle, innit?”

And Edwin looks at him, his almost-perfect smile, the slope of his nose and the dark brown of his eyes; he loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal says in his mind.

“Yes”, he replies, “it really is.”

“Come with me”, Crystal pleads, trying to pull him up from where he is sitting on the ground, between broken pieces of concrete and wood.

“I can’t”, Charles says, and knows it is true. His limbs won’t move, his body refusing Crystal’s attempt to lift him up; he won’t leave without Edwin at his side.

“You have to”, Crystal replies, and Charles wishes he could reach up and brush the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t stay here. Not like this.”

“You don’t understand, Crystal”, he says, and maybe he is crying, maybe he has forgotten how to do even that. “I can’t leave. If he isn’t here, then nothing matters. I cannot pass on, because there’s no Heaven if Edwin’s not in it. And I could stop existing, maybe, but if I do and he comes back, then he’ll be alone. So, if I can’t find him, if I can’t bring him back, then I’ll just… stay. And I’ll wait. Forever if I have to.”

Even though Charles, who used to flit between places like breathing, seems most content inside the agency these days, Edwin drags him up to the roof, because the weather is lovely and Edwin wants to see the sun on Charles’ skin, reflected in his eyes.

He seems different today, distracted, but he gives Edwin a small, almost-right smile when they sit down on the ledge, looking down over the city.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to ask a question today”, Charles says after a few seconds, but he sounds far away, almost distracted. “I know you like them. It’s just. There is one thing that I don’t think you how to ask about and that you should know. So I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

Something about his words makes Edwin’s metaphorical heart beat faster, makes him look at Charles and notice everything at once: the way he clenches his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows, how his tongue darts out to wet lips that don’t get dry any longer.

He looks nervous, and Edwin hates it, because there is nothing Charles could say that would make Edwin care for him any less.

“You can tell me anything, Charles.”

“I know”, Charles replies and gives Edwin the smallest of smiles. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

For a long time, there is nothing, then Charles shakes his head slightly, a tick Edwin knows so intimately it almost pains him.

“You see”, he starts, “when you were gone, I found something out about myself. About you, too. I’m not sure if I would have otherwise, at least not now. And I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t, and now that you’re back it’s suddenly so difficult, because you’re here and I know it won’t change anything, not between us, but it will change something for me, anyway.”

He lifts their joined hands, the single band-aid stark against his skin, and smiles; for a moment, Edwin forgets that he doesn’t understand what Charles is talking about, because there is something so fond, so sweet, so devastating about the look in his eyes.

“I love you”, he says, and Edwin’s metaphorical heart stops, speeds up, swells until it is straining against his ribs, “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m in love with you, Edwin. And I thought I might never be able to tell you, so I’m doing it now.”

And he looks over at Edwin and for the first time since he had launched himself into his side in that godforsaken warehouse, Charles smiles at him and it’s the smile Edwin missed the entire time, every bit of sunlight in the universe bundled into his eyes, into the curve of his lips.

“You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t expect you to”, Charles says, and his voice is trembling, but he sounds happy nonetheless, sounds content. “I just needed you to know that you’re loved in every way there is.”

A beat, a second, another one, and Edwin looks at Charles and it’s like he is seeing him for the very first time, at the same time like he has never seen anything else in his entire existence.

He loves you more than I can even imagine loving anyone, Crystal’s words echo in his mind, and she was right all along, and Edwin…

“I love you, too”, he says without thinking about it, because he doesn’t have to, he has known this for years, decades, maybe forever.

“I know”, Charles replies and he’s still smiling; he’s so beautiful Edwin wants to break down and thank the fates that he was sacrificed, that he was dragged to Hell and escaped it, that he is allowed to be here, holding hands with the best, the most important, the most beautiful boy in the world.

“No, Charles. I’m in love with you.”

And another beat, another second, and Charles’ eyes go wide, the sun behind them goes supernova, and Edwin can’t believe he ever looked at him and didn’t know he wanted to kiss those lips.

“Oh”, Charles breathes out and he sounds overwhelmed, sounds almost bashful. “That’s… that’s brills, innit?”

“Yes. It is.”

There is a pause, because something shifts between them; it doesn’t change, because it was always there, even without them knowing, so instead, it blossoms and blooms and grows into something so delicate, so resilient, so beautiful that Edwin finds himself smiling, almost laughing, almost crying.

“Can you just kiss me, please?”, he asks, love and happiness and devotion woven into every syllable.

And Charles nods, eyes brighter than Edwin has ever seen them before, and there is a second of hesitation, but then he leans in and kisses Edwin, and this time, there’s no mistaking it; there’s lips pressed against his, warm and soft and sweet, and Edwin can feel them just as if he was alive.

“I love you”, he whispers against Charles lips, and Charles laughs, before pressing closer still, kissing him again and again until Edwin’s head is swimming with it, his lips wet and swollen and his cheeks wet with the happiest tears he has ever cried.

“I love you”, Charles whispers back, and he’s smiling.

And he kisses him again.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i am sooo glad i got this finished before the holiday #because i would have hated to explain to my friends that no unfortunately i wouldn't be able to go to a bar i needed to write gay boy angst #anyway i hope you guys like it!!!!!!

[sharpbutsoft]

You Should Fear What You Already Know

7.10 Spec / T+ / 1k / Author Chose Not To Use Warnings

Buck’s always hated hospitals. The sickly smell of bleach and illness, the squeaky floors and buzzing fluorescent lights, the fact that he could never tell which was worse; being the victim or the victim’s family. He thinks he’s made up his mind about that last one today.

Sitting by Bobby’s hospital bed, Buck’s mind keeps getting stuck on how small he looks, how young. Objectively he knows Bobby’s not old, per se, but he’s always seemed so solid, so sure of himself and his place in this world. Like steel, or concrete.

Unyielding.

But Buck knows what repeated application of stress can do to steel, to concrete, to strong men. He’s seen it first hand; never needed to see it again.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he says, taking Bobby’s pale, fragile hand in his own. It’s warm to the touch, calloused like Buck’s own, but smaller, and that feels wrong. Nothing about Bobby should be smaller than Buck. “Every coma is different, you know? But I’m gonna believe you can until proven otherwise.”

Chim hadn’t heard anything. Buck had heard some things; not everything. But Bobby’s heart stopped, and Buck’s heart stopped, and maybe that’s the common denominator, the link between them. It’s a little hope, but it’s the only one he’s got.

“You- you said the other day, after I made lunch, that your work here is done. And at the time I- I was excited ‘cause I really tried, you know?

“I put everything into that meal, just like you do, and it must have worked. You looked so happy, after just one bite. And I was so proud of myself-“ Buck sniffs, wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “I was proud, ‘cause I’d impressed you.

“But I’ve changed my mind. You’re not, okay? Your work can’t be done, Bobby, ‘cause I made your lasagne for Tommy today and I don’t know what happened but the sauce, it was too thin, you know? I need you to show me again.” 

Buck squeezes his hand again, then relaxes it. The last thing Bobby needs is a bruised hand if… when he wakes up.

“I know you can hear me, okay? Because I heard you. After the lightning, in my coma dream. I heard you praying for me and- and I came back to you. So now it’s your turn, Bobby. I’ve seen what a world without you looks like and I can’t go back there. I won’t.”

Bobby’s heart monitor continues to beep, steady as a funeral march, not a stutter in its pace to indicate he’s heard anything Buck’s said. The low wheeze of the vent accompanies it, a nightmarish harmony. Buck wants to wake up.

He wants to wake up and see Bobby, whole and well and smiling and alive. But Buck is awake and Bobby might never be again and it’s the most unimaginable pain he’s ever felt.

Worse than the radiation scare in the tunnel - at least then Buck could talk to Bobby. Could wave off his concerns with gentle - and not so gentle - words. Could walk and talk and make them breakfast and smile. 

Could call Buck overprotective with an eye roll, and a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I lied to you, then,” Buck admits between clenched teeth. “You weren’t the same, in my coma dream. You- you were dead.” He whispers the word, like speaking it aloud could invite the possibility of it into the room. “You were dead, because you relapsed.

And the team never noticed how bad it was getting, because I wasn’t there to provoke you, I guess. After the plane went down.”

Buck laughs humorlessly as he remembers how even in his own head, the thought of Bobby not being there nearly killed him too. 

“I think my brain might have over-inflated my importance in your life, honestly, but it- it devastated me. And I still- I can’t-“ The tears come rushing back from somewhere so deep, so dark that Buck’s not sure they’ll ever stop once they spill. “I won’t live without you, okay? You know better than anyone how stubborn I am, Bobby. So you better come back to us.

“Your work here’s not done, and it’s never going to be done. Athena needs her husband. The 118 needs their captain. May and Harry need their dad, and I-“ 

That’s the thing, isn’t it? That precious, unspoken line they’ve never crossed. 

Because no one’s ever cared for him like Bobby has. No one’s worried about him, and protected him, and loved him with exasperation and anger and fear and joy so big and bold that Buck’s always been scared to look at it too close, let alone reach out and claim it. 

Now he might be too late.

But if there’s any part of Bobby that can hear him through the haze, then Buck’s going to be brave, gonna take the chance. He’d give all his blood, his plasma, his marrow. Any organ they could wrench from him he’d give to Bobby in a heartbeat, in the space between them.

Seems only fair to give him the title that goes with it.

“I need my dad, too. So, wherever you are, come back?” Please?”

-

Title is from Plastic Flowers by The Front Bottoms, don’t listen to it unless you wanna cry

I’ll post it to Ao3 later once I have it edited ✌️

#911 spec fic #911 spoilers #evan buckley #bobby nash #911 abc #911 #author is choosing Not to include warnings but uhhh dm me if you wanna check anything specific that’s no problem:) #my fic

[lovivelle]

yttd chapter 3-2 predictions!

i saw a bingo card going around on twitter... and i completed my own but id really like to dive into my predictions a bit!! under the cut because this is going to be loooong!

1. gin / keiji will die

for starters. i do not want either of them to die dude if gin goes... but whatever! i predict that they'll function similarly to shin and kanna, as in they're looked to a certain route. i'm going back and forth on the idea of the player making a conscious decision on who to kill or if it's based on former decisions.

now i don't necessarily believe in the memorandum theory, but i think it's quite interesting that gin and keiji are still alive despite them being mentioned clearly. (man who's views align with the girl = keiji and boy much younger than her = gin.)

at this point sara has come to care so deeply for these two, with gin and keiji constantly being her rock and both of them risking their lives for her in chapter 3-1.

as for how they'll die, gin is really anyone's guess. keiji will probably die sacrificing himself for the group i feel.

someone else is going to die, i feel like that's inevitable. especially in emotion considering that the cast is stacked with either yabusame sibling still being alive.

2. midoris status

i have a sinking feeling that he's not quite dead. do i know what purpose this would really serve? not really! i just feel like he's obviously so influential and important... so i feel like him dying in the coffin would be. i don't know! either way i think we'll get some backstory and or clarification for him!

3. escape

i think an escape ending will be possible. i have a few ways i think it could go. but for clarification, i dont think emotion and logic are going to balance each other out. i've seen some people saying that emotion will take a dark turn and logic will take a positive tone, but i dont buy it.

if i had to guess, id say an escape will happen in logic (?) while i don't think that the two routes will balance out, i do think that some sort of story incentive will be given to make logic a viable option to play. shin is also still alive, and id say he's the most capable of getting the group out. (not to say i dont think emotion won't have a happy ending..)

an escape might happen after someone "wins". i just think nankidai will pull this to be funny. sort of. idk..

a good ending to the death game doesn't necessarily have to be a concrete escape, maybe there's another way to end it? idk!

4. shin tsukimi goes 10 dollar mode

i think shin just losing it would be! interesting!! it doesn't necessarily have to end with him killing someone or being a villain... but i think it'd be cool to see.

i think he will refill his role of being an antagonist in 3-2, and i have my reasons for understanding why he's taken a back seat thus far.

i think a catalyst for this could be learning about his relation to kanna.

5. joe ai

i have no concrete theory for this, it's just wishful thinking. why is there an ai of joe? is there an ai of kugie or nao? i guess we'll never know!

6. miley

miley has been seen helping the group before, so i think it'd be interesting to see her take on a more. neutral stance. she's in the preview images, so she's going to play some part in the story at the very least.

7. mishimas head

wishful thinking again. WHERE THE HELL IS HIS HEAD!!! WHY!! WHO!! WHERE!! WHAT!! HOW!! WHEN!!

8. learn more about saras family

i feel like this is bound to happen, given that it's been hinted at since the first chapter. while it's obvious that the mr. chidouin we see in game is connected to the games, id like to know about her biological family too.

9. shin / sara conflict

i think them arguing is funny. but also i'd like to see it resolved. he literally had an evil joe locked and loaded, hello?

10. closure for dummies

i hope they aren't forgotten when the story wraps up. maybe there's a way to speak with the ai again? idk. especially for emotion ranmaru, id like to see him again.

11. game overs

i think there will be a few random game overs like there were in chapter two (ex: qtaro betrayal, sara hallucination meter)

12. winner

someone is going to win. whether that be someone wins and the game continues or someone wins and it functions similarly to a sacrifice massacre ending.

if i had to place my bets on anyone id assume it'll be either shin or sara. but i think a yabusame sibling for funnies. idk!! it could be anyone!

13. joe

joe has been a driving force for the narrative since the very beginning, and i don't think he's going to go away just like that.

even if it's cheesy, i'd like for sara and joe to have another ai (or something like that) moment in the emotion route.

i would like to see him in logic though! whether sara remembers him or not, i feel like it hasn't been wrapped up as neatly as it was in emotion.

extra : my opinions on some prevalent theories!

memorandum : BOOOO!!!! TOMATO TOMATO!!!! IDGAF!!!!!

gin / joe mastermind : i honestly don't see this happening... i mean, gin is twelve! and he bleeds so we know he isn't a doll, so i don't see any reason for him being involved.

i feel the same way for joe. "surely her friend will also take part" doesn't really hold any weight with me? he's always with her, obviously he'll end up taking part. i'm assuming asunaro was expecting to pick up collateral damage since participants and candidates are literally written into the rules.

kai isn't dead : ahhh i don't really see it. i don't see a reason why he would be alive. the only person i could see living would be mishima!

ai theory : this only works as a concept for a banger fanfiction. feels lazy and similar to "it was all a dream".

and that's it!! i didn't proofread this at all so. pardon me i was just sort of rambling!! but anyways if there's anything i missed lmk

#kimi ga shine #yttd #your turn to die #kanna kizuchi #shin tsukimi #sara chidouin #joe tazuna #reko yabusame #alice yabusame #gin ibushi #nao egokoro #oh i hate tagging #keiji shinogi #qtaro burgerberg #kazumi mishima #AGGHHHH

[janovavalen]

I NEED PT2 TO RECKLESS.. MAYBE WHEN THEYRE AT THE GOLD CHAIR THING??

an: GTFO OF HEREEEEEEE THESE R AMAZING WTHHHH IM LITERALLY UP AT 12:54 GOING THROUGH IT SO BAD RN THIBKIJG IF I SHOUOD GO TO BED OR DO THIS RNNNNN OMG OMG OMG YES?

✧NOT LEAVING WITHOUT YOU. || percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: in which the group make their way to their new destination only to run across a bit of a bump in the road.

word count: 7,939 (what the actual…)

warnings: awkwardness between percy and y/n, near death experience, the gods literally shipping y/n and percy lowkey bc why not, slight argument. (a little twist in the story<3)

as the group walked and walked on the endless road somehow thinking they’d get somewhere with this pace. y/n walked in the middle of percy and annabeth.

percy would momentarily look at y/n who didn’t meet his gaze. lot to lie to himself but that probably stung almost as bad as the stinger from the chimera.

deciding to talk along the quiet atmosphere around the group, percy began—‘i’ve been thinking.’ as he started, his words gained all their attention.

‘i didn’t steal the master bolt— you guys didn’t steal the master bolt. we’re pretty sure hades has the master bolt, but he couldn’t have stolen it himself. i mean—we don’t even know who actually stole the thing…or why…or, how deep this thing goes’

as they walked and listened to percy speak who talked his thoughts he looked between the group and let his gaze set upon y/n who turned to look at him the second he turned away.

after seeing grover and annabeth not talk or back him up he came to the conclusion—‘i’m the last person to realize this aren't i?’

‘yup—‘ y/n spoke while still not making contact with percy who turned almost immediately to her direction to see she hadn’t been looking at him which he didn’t want to admit but it kinda hurt in a way.

‘yeah’ annabeth spoke while grover nodded to percy who almost rolled his eyes at how he’s just now catching up.

‘okay, so…maybe when we started my head wasn’t fully in this…but since the river…’ looking at y/n who sucked in a breath and turned her head, she turned to the horizon as percy kept talking—‘it all feels different somehow.’ he boldly claimed.

smiling to himself as he thought of two things—mostly one over the other but maiming the second, he spoke once more—‘he saved me. my dad. i guess i just never really thought that’s something he’d do for me. so maybe i gotta take things more seriously now—‘

as he spoke and the group listened, grover couldn’t help but hear something approaching. y/n seeing his head turn to the road behind them she turned as well to see a small dot in the distance.

‘car.’ grover told them. the sound of the engine becoming more prominent as it got closer.

‘that can’t be a car you hear how loud that thing is?’ y/n squinted her eyes trying to see.

‘that’s not a car, it’s a bike. just let it pass.’ annabeth told them, seeing that they had people looking for them on a most wanted, y/n lightly tapped percy’s arm—‘come on’ she spoke as he turned and followed but not without looking behind him.

the group hurrying to hide behind a concrete block on the side of the road to hide; they all sat down into the grassy dirt. their legs outstretched in front of them. annabeth sitting on the side next to grover as percy sat on his other and y/n sitting next to percy.

‘i’m saying, we’re not just trying to retrieve a thing. o think we might need to be detectives here, too.’ percy looked at the group as they listened to him once more to his continued talk.

‘yeah.’ y/n agreed silently as she fixed her legs in front of her along with her pants that had still felt a bit wet. percy looked at her as she looked down at her legs and he felt a slight twinge in his stomach that felt horrible.

reading her face he noticed she was back to her quiet, and awkward self with him—did she somehow hate him again? he just saved her life doesn’t he at least have his name on a talk to list?

‘why are you being weird with me again? i thought we were doing that anymore.’ he asked out loud. grover and annabeth turned their heads to the two to see y/n look up for a second and only squint her eyes and turn her head back down, letting out a sigh as she began—

‘i’m not being weird?’ she frowned her eyebrows as he nodded a bit.

‘yes you are. you’ve been weird since we left the arch.’ he told. as he said this she felt herself get awkward again and blinked her eyes while turning around.

annabeth could almost laugh at this, grover however had never seen her like this before.

‘oh…i get it.’ he boldly claimed while blinking in understanding. did he possibly? y/n turned to him with frowned eyebrows once more.

‘it doesn’t have to be a thing; you know. that we had to—‘

‘stop! it isn’t that, we don’t talk about that—‘

‘i mean, we’re like friends now, best friends. that seems like a best friend thing to do, at least i think they do?’ percy tried so hard to get y/n to speak to him as she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.

grover fired his best not to crack a smile or even laugh to earn a hit from anyone so he bit his lip and shook his head—annabeth could practically feel y/n begging for help so she spoke.

‘i saw the fates. back at the arch, i saw the three fates and i saw atropos cut a piece of thread.’ she told them. y/n could almost celebrate when her mind was fed something to distract her.

‘and that’s bad or…?’ percy cluelessly asked them.

‘the fates weave the life of every living thing. when you see a string cut—‘

‘it means one of us is going to die.’ y/n said while looking over at percy.

percy however didn’t catch the hint yet so he claimed—‘we’re all gonna die eventually.’

‘soon. it’s a warning’ y/n told him as annabeth nodded her head.

‘an omen’ annabeth added.

as percy looked at y/b for a bit longer they heard the engine of the motorcycle approaching them from behind.

‘okay guys, we need to talk about this whole fate thing. three old ladies with a ball of yarn can’t know what's gonna happen. what i choose to do changed what’s gonna happen, and i can choose to do anything i….want’ as they listened to the fact the engine didn’t pass them y/n frowned her eyebrows along with annabeth.

‘need some help?’ a man asked.

as the group turned to the brick in front of them as if they could see who spoke they turned to each other before raising to their knees to peer over the brick that stood in their way.

as they poked their heads over the group, they seen a man biker with a long leather jacket that draped over the backside of his black and silver bike. he wore a black helmet and had a large beard on his face.

‘beg pardon?’ grover politely asked.

‘i asked if you could use some help.’ he repeated.

grover looked over at y/n who had wide eyes as she slowly shook her head, which percy noticed and smiled too.

‘nope. no we’re—we’re good. appreciate you asking, though. so long.’ he furnished as the group slowly turned back around to hide once more as y/n gave a awkward tight lipped smile.

the man sighed as he looked ahead of him before saying—‘you don’t seem too good.’

y/n decided to turn and talk this time—‘we don’t need help and we don’t really need anything from you’ she claimed while lowering back down behind the brick and next to percy.

‘you sure? because you guys are so behind schedule’ he scoffed.

as the group heard him say this they immediately rose from the ground to reveal their full bodies and confused faces.

‘i mean, summer solstice is just a few days away. and as much as i’d love to see a good war pop off, as your big cousin, i feel like, maybe, i wanna give you a hand.’ percy frowned as y/n and annabeth knew right away. grover as well but he decided to play a bit cool.

‘cousin?’ he confusing asked as y/n turned to him—‘he’s aries—‘

‘you two girls must be athena’s kids. always gotta be the wisest one in the bunch.’ ares squinted his eyes as he leaned forward on his bike a bit.

‘why would you help us?’ annabeth asked.

‘how do you even know about what we’re doing here?’ y/n asked as well.

‘because i’m doing exactly the same thing as you. zeus sent all of his kids looking out for the master bolt, too. listen dummies, im hungry. there’s a halfway decent dinner up the road. if you want my held you’ll meet me there. but done dawdle. won’t wait forever.’ he finished before placing his sunglasses on.

before he even fully left he gave a look to them before driving away.

‘that’s my cousin? what kind of family is this?’ percy kind of in awe asked.

‘he didn’t want to offer a ride…?’ y/n squinted as she looked off into the distance.

annabeth sighed before tapping grover, ‘come on’ she told them as they began to walk into where he went off to.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

after a bit of their walking they finally arrived at a pretty quiet dinner of which they saw the bike of aries.

walking into the restaurant with the sound of the doorbell and a few distant talking from the people inside, percy made sure that the door stayed open for y/n who gave a small nod and smile which he was quick to return.

looking around as they looked for them they were all met with the sound of loud laughing and a table slap. turning to see ares himself laughing at his phone as he had two plates, a mountain of fries and five big cheeseburgers in a stack.

‘guess this is the right place’ percy told the three as y/n walked forward along with grover, annabeth and percy who was close to y/n.

aries let his outburst of laughter die down as the group walked behind him which he acknowledged and looked at them—‘gimme a second, i’m just starting a fight on twitter here.’ he told them. annabeth slid into the booth first then y/n who was followed by percy and grover.

‘nothing makes me happier than a good old-fashioned, burn-it-down fight. ah…okay, done’ he clicked his last words before looking at the them.

‘so your quest is going to fail. ask me how i know’ he grinned at them as y/n rolled her eyes in annoyance then only to reach forward for a fry which ares seemed to not really care about, percy noticed this and suppressed a smile.

‘it isn’t gonna fail—‘

‘sure it is.’ ares cut of percy with a scoff—‘for starters…’ pulling out his phone once more to show a video of percy’s step dad.

‘percy was always troubled, but i never thought he was capable of something like this.’

‘wh—who’s that?’ grover asked percy who stayed focused on the phone, his face frozen in shock—‘my stepdad, what’s he doing?’

‘and in addition to the destruction at the gateway arch…’ a news reporter added before ares scoffed with a smile—‘wait for it’

‘you believe he may also have had something to do with your wife’s disappearance?’

‘a kid that messed up? what wouldn’t he do?’

‘what?’ percy frowned as y/n looked at him in a bit of pity before back at the phone.

‘wild right? the FBI is already spreading your picture around.’ ares added as they still listened to the phone.

‘it’s a camaro. i really—we really loved that car…so much…cut!’ his stepdad cried like a baby over camera as they stopped the recording.

‘i’m gonna kill him’ percy angrily promised as he shook his head.

‘i knew i was gonna like you’ ares nodded his head with a smile.

‘but safe to say, the chances of you three idiots hitchhiking the rest of the way to L.A. without getting arrested are slim to none.’ he told them.

y/n tiredly scoffed a bit while trying to somehow lean further back into the seat.

‘why are you sitting here then? if you had this to say you could’ve said it back at that brick before you rode off into the sun.’ y/n asked and mumbled with a roll of her eyes. annabeth pinched her a bit, leaving her to aggressively push her arm into annabeth.

percy sighed softly and looked at y/n, noticing how tired she was and made his way a bit closer to her without her knowing it. he hoped she’d at least try and lean on him for a bit of comfort compared to this wooden chair.

‘if your supposed to be looking for the master bolt too, shouldn’t you be out there looking for it?’ annabeth picked up for y/n as she frowned her eyebrows.

‘hmm there’s no fear in the two of you, is there?’ he asked the girls who started him down in the eyes with nothing but pure confidence.

‘doesn't matter. whether the bolt’s retrieved or not, zeus is going to war with poseidon.’ he told the four as they all looked at percy who looked at them before back at ares.

‘no. the oracle said if we return the bolt, there wouldn’t be a war.’ percy told ares.

‘is that what she said? or is that what chiron said she meant?’ as ares finished his sentence he noticed percy’s hesitation who looked around the room before back at ares.

‘yeah. your new to the family, young one, so let me fill you in on how we work. see, years before i was born, my grandpa kronos ate my aunt and uncle’s. yeah. then my dad made him puke them back up, then chopped him into a million pieces and chucked ‘em into a bottomless pit, so that kinda set the tone right outta the gate.’ the bunch taking this in as they looked at each other letting ares continue.

‘olympians fight. we betray. we backstab. we will push anyone down a flight of stairs to get ahead. and that’s why i love my family so much’ he smiled as percy sighed and leaned back a little.

‘my dad knows he’s not getting this bolt hack with quests or goose chases. he knows there’s a war coming. and in reality i think he’s okay with that. i think he feels it’s just time for a way; so we’re gonna have a war.’ as he finished his sentence y/n cringed her whole face as he placed a balled fist on his lips and inhaled.

‘isn’t that great?’ he asked then as if they would even agree. well, maybe y/n, she made bets with people on who would win in a war if there ever was one any time soon and she betted on loads of books.

‘we’re completing this quest. we’re stopping this war. you said you can help. can you?’ percy asked ares with his hard face expression.

‘okay, so here it is. there’s an amusement park up the road. i left my shield there. you get me my shield back, and i’ll get you to the underworld by lunch tomorrow with a plan to invade hades’s palace’ he explained to them.

‘you left your shield? like…you forgot it on the merry-go-round?’ y/n squinted her eyes at him once more as annabeth sighed in annoyance at her sisters words.

ares leaned forward and under the light the hung above to get closer to y/n who leaned forward as well.

‘okay. the chirping was funny to me for a minute, but it is getting old.’ ares warned her as she squinted her eyes and tilted her head a bit.

‘y/n…’ percy whispered trying to get her attention but she still looked towards ares.

‘so do we have a deal, or am i killing all three of you so i can eat in peace?’ he angrily shouted a bit at the bunch as percy became a bit nervous and looked around to see y/n biting the inside of her cheek.

‘okay.’ percy accepted leaving ares to smile and lean back—‘great. one catch. i really do need that shield back, so i'm gonna keep the satyr and wise girl here as collateral so you can’t run off—‘

‘what? no your not keeping them that’s not—‘ y/n shouted as she frowned only to be cut off by annabeth and grieve who spoke at the same time with—

‘okay.’

‘no way’ percy said while y/n turned to annabeth and shook her head immediately.

‘we don’t split up again—‘

‘it’s okay.’ grover reassured as annabeth nodded.

‘if he wanted to kill us, we’d be dead by now.’ grover told them as ares grinned at grover who asked—‘can we just walk them to the door?’

ares sighed and allowed it letting a wave of his hand go in front of them giving them the signal to walk.

‘okay look, don’t engage with him—don’t speak too much and don’t try to make friends, he’ll want to get your riled up, get in your head and you can let him.’ y/n tired to stress as grover shook his head.

‘it’s okay. really. i know what im doing. go. get the shield. we’ll be here when you two get back.’ grover told them.

‘there’s nothing to worry about y/n. besides, this will be quick knowing you’ annabeth added as y/n sighed and nodded a bit.

as the two of percy and y/n hesitated to leave the two they slowly turned around to the door before leaving grover and annabeth with the god of war.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as the night sky had fell over everyone and the town, percy and y/n walked to the dimly lit amusement park with the sign that said ‘Welcome to Waterland’

‘i haven’t seen a lot of horror movies but this seems like exactly the kind of place they’d suggest to avoid.’ percy commented as the two stopped and stood in front of the entrance.

‘well…i never seen any kind of movie, is it good?’ she asked while looking over to him as he shrugged.

‘okay then, i’d have to take your word for it—‘

‘wait never? what do you mean never like, never-never?’ he asked almost completely shocked at the fact she’d never seen a movie before.

‘is there another kind?’ she responded as he lightly nodded his head.

‘well, if neither of us is dead in a few days, we really ought to fix that. your missing out.’ he told her almost as a promise as she lightly nodded her head in agreement.

‘in the meantime, we should probably get this over with, though.’ as he walked in front of her she slowly followed a bit far behind.

as percy walked through the metal moving doors right when y/n realized what he just did—‘wait, percy stop.’ she told him as they listened to the sound of ticking above percy.

‘what just happened?’ he asked frantically.

‘just hold still—don’t move at all okay?’ she instructed with her hands out to keep him where he was.

‘let me think…’ she replied. the sound of the metal moving against one another above percy clicking.

‘in the mechanism there, that’s Celestial bronze—‘

‘oh, fascinating. y/n, what’s happening right now?’ percy interrupted not too much interested in the subject of bronze.

‘Celestial bronze is what your sword is made of. if your human, it’ll pass right through you. if your a monster or a demigod…’ she trailed off as percy used the rest of his imagination for the rest of her sentence.

nodding slowly he breathed a bit more heavily—‘well what’s it doing there?’ he asked her while looking up, focused on the bronze.

‘i’m wondering the same thing. safe to say this place isn’t some fun amusement park for everyone. a god built this.’ she finally came to the conclusion.

‘what kind of god builds amusement parks?’ percy asked.

y/n looking around and scratching her brain for a answer she finally answered—‘Hephaestus.’

‘why would Hephaestus build an amusement park?’

‘maybe he finds them amusing?’ she answered with her hands lifted a bit.

‘that’s really not funny, y/n.’

‘it could be a little funny, i’ll say the joke again later and you’ll laugh.’

sighing as he rolled his eyes a bit to focus on the situation in hand y/n still looking at the tucking bronze she mumbled—‘oh…oh, look at that.’ she felt mesmerized by the bronze turning and clicking more—‘that’s kinda cool’ only for percy to get her back to reality—y/n!’

snapping back she closed her eyes and focused a bit more—‘just relax, i’m thinking okay?’.

as the two of them looked up at the clicking she finally sighed—‘i get this. just…push through it.’ she instructed.

hyperventilating, percy turned to her with a look of uncertainty—‘push?’

‘yes.’

turning to do so he stopped before actually going and turned to her—‘cause weren’t you the one this morning who was all, “the Fated says one is us is gonna die and we should take it really seriously?”

looking to the side as she recalled her words she rolled her eyes a bit and in a calming voice—‘percy?’

‘yeah?’

‘just push.’ she told him once more.

sighing with nervousness, he placed his hands on the metal bars and started to walk, pushing them on front of him. the gears of the machine clanging together he finally got thought and hurried his way on the other side before anything could happen.

looking up at the yellow boxed of 0’s one turned into the number 1.

‘what’s was that?’ percy asked with a sigh.

‘the machine isn’t designed to hurt us. it’s meant to scare us. it’s a test.’ she told him as she made her way through.

the one on the yellow boxed turning into a 2, representing the number of people who’d entered.

‘Hephaestus wanted to know any time one of us came poking around his playground. i guess now he knows.’ she commented as they took their last look at the machine and started to walk.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

back at the restaurant sat annabeth, grover and the god ares who laughed at his phone.

annabeth and grover gave each other side eyes before he sighed and nodded his head slowly.

‘we’ve met before.’ he told him.

‘been around a long time, little boy. i’ve bet a lot of people.’ ares told him as he still poked at his phone with one finger.

‘i’m 24’ grover told him.

scoffing he replied with—‘good for you.’

giving a tight lipped smile grover continued as annabeth sat back and listened—‘we met at the solstice. on Olympus.’

sighing with a small groan ares mumbled—‘protester.’

‘oh i wasn’t one of the protesters. i’m a fan.’ annabeth looking at him a bit before back at ares who’s finally looked up he replied.

‘i think you got me mixed up with someone else, kid.’ before looking back at his phone, grover shook his head with a small smile.

‘no i don’t’ he stated with a head shake.

sighing ares placed his phone on its face on the table and spoke—‘Satyrs eat tofu. Satyrs worship flowers. Satyrs sing songs about their feelings. Satyrs are no fans of mine.’ he told him with full confidence.

‘Satyrs are children of nature. nature is brutal. red in tooth and claw, right?’ he asked getting a bit more comfortable in his seating next to annabeth who nodded her head as ares looked up at him—‘maybe unpleasant. but that doesn’t make it untrue. you are the champion, all of that. i respect it.’ he told him.

ares squinting his eyes a bit began to speak—‘so what are you like, a casual World War || buff? you’ve seen Saving Private Ryan, have you?’

nodding a bit he looked to the side before looking back at him—‘i prefer the Turbot War. the Lobster War. the Three Hundred and Thirty-Five years’ war. your deep cuts’

‘huh…those are wars where hardly anyone died.’ he noted as grover nodded a bit.

‘i like your mellower stuff. there’s something cool about overwhelming force and a quick surrender.’ he tells him as ares begins to think.

‘no one talks about those anymore.’ he remembers.

‘they should.’ grover told him truthfully while looking him in the eyes, annabeth agreeing.

sighing ares sat a bit closer—‘so tell me where we met again?’ he asked as grover smiled a bit.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

back at the quiet amusement park, y/n and percy walked around as they looked at things trying to find where ares long lost shield was.

‘oh wow, look at that. tell me the god of craftsmen didn’t build this. have you ever seen anything like this?’ y/n asked as she was interested and amused at the rides around her.

‘if it belongs to the god of craftsmen, what was the god of war doing here? aren’t they enemies? then why’d he split without his shield?’ percy asked and wondered while y/n listened to his questions.

‘if i’m guessing…ares has always had a thing with—‘

‘aphrodite. she’s Hephaestus’s wife. oh your kidding, he met her here? in her husband’s park? that’s so wrong—‘

‘in so many ways’ y/n sided with him as she and him walked side by side.

‘they must’ve got caught and he had to leave in a hurry. one thing ares was telling the truth about…this family is a mess.’

as she finished—a song started to play, grabbing the two’s attention. as they looked over they see a pink sign that blinked the words ‘Thrisd Ride O’ Love’ with a small heart above it and a tunnel with pink.

y/n felt hers grow a bit sweaty along with percy who’d looked over at her, the sense of him looking catching her attention as her eyes stayed forward—‘don’t you even try to tell me not to be weird about this.’

‘i didn’t say anything’ he said while looking back at the pink tunnel.

‘yeah but i can feel you thinking it…this must be where ares and aphrodite got caught. the shield must be in there. we just…gotta go get it i guess.’ she said.

percy turning to her and when she turned to him he faced forward, sighing he said—‘sure. let’s go check out the scary ghost ride. why not?’ he said while walking forward.

‘it’s a tunnel of love. what’s so scary about that?’ she teased only for him to roll his eyes.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

after boarding the boat made for two, they sailed along the water in silence, the only noise being made was an occasional light flicker and the water moving together.

y/n letting her face stay forward to avoid any awkward eye contact, they both heard a sudden thud in the distance making percy turn to her as he adjusted his seating in worry.

suddenly the lights made a quicker more aggressive flicker only to hear the song—‘What Is Love’ played throughout the whole tunnel.

the lights dim and the tension gets very awkward.

‘are you kidding me right now?’ y/n commented as she looked around the tunnel brick walls.

‘feel like i’ve heard this before. i think from an orthodontist’s office maybe?’ he tried to remember.

just then a decorative multicolored light stuck down the tunnel, the pair following its glow. the colors now painted a purple that showed over the two. percy looking at y/n but before he could notice she looked at him back once he faced forward.

just then they focus on a back cartoon figure on the wall with a crown on and multiple legs, it moved along the wall to grow and show a small boy who was birthed from the figure.

‘wait. i know this.’ watching more of the cartoon on the wall he finally came to his conclusion—‘it’s hephaestus’s story.’

the two watching as the cartoon hephaestus hammers down onto something and tried to reach and give what he built to the other figure only for it to turn away—its signs of rejection. perturbing to y/n and he turned only for her to look at him then face forward.

‘rejected by hera. rejected by aphrodite…my mom told me these stories all the time. i remember this. she said…’ as he went a bit quiet y/n turned to him studying his face.

‘what?’ she asked.

‘she said this is what the gods are like to each other. this is the kind of family they are.’ he told her.

frowning her eyebrows y/n asked—‘why didn’t you wanna say that just now? she was trying to keep me away from you guys.’ with a bit of shock y/n let her eyebrows lift up while looking at him.

percy turned away and shook his head—‘maybe you were right. maybe she should have been preparing me better.’ he said.

‘maybe she was preparing you. so when you got to us, you’d be different than this.’ y/n told him as he looked at her for a bit longer he finally turned as the cartoon life story of hephaestus finished with him falling on the ground in failure, the light around them turned off.

suddenly a tunnel of green was in front of them and the duo was shot forward and down the waterfall—screaming in shock as they held onto the boat tighter. both of them being thrusted and moved around aggressively, percy looked over at y/n to see if she was okay and once he say that she was he turned forward, her doing the same.

the opening at the end showing more water—‘is it a bad time to say i barely know how to swim?’ y/n exclaimed while frowning, percy looked over to her shaking his head—‘it’s okay!’

as they reached a more settled but aggressive moving water they looked over to see a stage of a gold chair and a gold woman holding ares shield.

‘there it is. ares’s shield.’ as they looked forward to seeing the end of the tunnel as an empty boat was thrown off the ledge of lightning striking in the air they both looked at each other in worry.

‘jump!’ he said as she took a deep breath in and followed him.

panting as y/n struggled to stay afloat she sunk underwater unable to keep up with the pressure. percy swimming under with his hand outstretched with hers, he heard her yell his name in a muffled voice.

outstretching his hand towards her more a force of water threw itself at her then a bigger one once again only for the both of their worlds to go dark.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

waking up with a gasp as they panted for air, the two laid down on their stomachs next to each other on the floor. coughing a bit they both sat up and looked around to see they were face no longer in the water and on the surface of the chair and the woman statue.

‘did you just pull me out of there with that water power stuff?’ she asked while he looked around the floor in confusion.

‘no.’ he said.

‘did you just—‘

‘i don’t know. maybe? i’m figuring this out as i go.’

‘yeah well, u owe you twice…’ she said as the two of them sat to their knees, looking up at the golden statue and the chair in front of it.

‘how are we supposed to get that thing down?’ percy asked as they looked at the shield being held and the chair. y/n studying it she noted—‘these things are connected somehow. it’s a machine but how do you start the machine?’ she asked herself.

the town of them looking around for any clues as to where to begin.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘i hate kids. all of ‘em. i hate my own kids.’ he told the two as they listened and only could really nod.

‘um, maybe less than other kids, but still not fond of them.’ scoffing as he recalled some of their prayers to him—“look what i made”, “what are butterflies for?”, “my knee hurts.”—he finishes with a groan.

‘i love my job, but that night everyone's kids show up for the winter solstice and i have to sit through their “presentation.” that night is the worst night of the year, every year, by far.’

‘this one in particular, it seems. since one of those kids somehow walked off with the master bolt.’ scoffing ares shook his head a bit—‘says you. who knows who actually took it. plenty of people hate my dad enough to try.’

‘maybe, but not many people could pull it off.’ he reminded as ares took that into account as he turned his head to the side.

‘someone hades could’ve recruited for the job.’ he tries to say only for ares to shake his head—‘says you’ he replied once more.

‘and someone who could slip away long enough to do it without being missed, bold enough to cross zeus, stealthy enough to get their hands on the thing—‘

‘en—enough. not everything is a puzzle that needs to be solved. your as bad as my sister.’ he groaned. the mention of her mom bringing her attention a bit more making her think about y/n.

‘was she always like that?’

‘who?’

‘your sister, athena.’ grover told.

‘what do you mean?’ ares asked him.

‘always making things more complicated than they need to be so people will think she’s smarter then you.’ as the tension got tight and his eyes staring down grover who was growing a bit nervous along with annabeth who almost gulped—ares slammed his hands down onto the table making a loud thump scaring the two as they jumped in shock.

‘thank you! i can’t be the only one who sees it right?’ he asked.

‘no, not at all.’

‘it certainly feels that way sometimes. and seriously, she’s the smart one? really? if she’s so smart, explain the owl. she talks to it, like, all the time. this fat nasty little feathers rodent. and it’s like her best friend’ he told him in aggression as annabeth thought about her and y/n’s mom with a owl.

that might explain why y/n thought about getting one not to long ago, she definitely had to tell her about it later.

‘and we’re so sure that she’s a genius and i, no owl, am not?’ he said as grover replied—‘totally!’

‘it’s like people only see what they wanna see and ignore anything at all that doesn’t fit the story they like to tell themselves.’

‘exactly! like you being the one to find the lighting thief and not her.’ ares had gone quiet once grover exclaimed this making annabeth a bit tense as the two did then looked at ares who leaned forward.

‘what did you mean by that?’

‘by what?’ grover asked as he played confused.

‘found the thief. we both know your friend didn’t steal the bolt.’ he told him.

‘yeah, but zeus thinks he did, which is kinda all that matters, right?’

‘shut up.’ he instructed grover who watched as ares began to think.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as y/n and percy looked at the golden chair, the two of them trying to figure out what to do next.

‘it was a gift with a hidden purpose. hephaestus offered it to hera, but as soon as she sat in it she couldn’t get up. all the gods tried but the machine was too smart. it was too strong. it was too much. even for them.’ percy told y/n who looked over at him with her eyebrows scrunched.

looking up he continued—‘finally, they said if hephaestus let hera free, aphrodite would be his wife.’ looking over at y/n as he licked his lips a bit he told her—‘the chair is the bargain. one of us goes in, the other gets the shield—‘

‘i’ll do it.’ y/n immediately said as she began to walk forward.

‘what? wait a minute.’ percy was quick to grab her wet sleeved arm—‘whoever goes in, isn’t coming out. that seems pretty clear.’

‘i know, that’s why i said wait—‘

‘this isn’t the arch, seaweed braid. your not telling me to stay behind, it didn’t work then and it won’t work now—‘

‘yes, i am and yes it will.’

‘i’m not going to let you do it. it doesn’t work that way.’

‘it’s why you’re here.’ he told her as he scrunched his eyebrows, his eyes looking at her.

‘what’s that supposed to mean…’ she asked him.

‘when choosing my team, i told chiron i needed someone who wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice me if the quest required, he agreed, that was you.’ he told her as she sadly shook her head and faced forward.

‘you were right, i can’t believe it but the fates were right. there’s no getting around his. we dodged it at the arch, barely, but…maybe this isn’t something you can dodge forever.’

‘the oracle chose you. the gods chose you!’

‘stop! it isn't about that.’

‘what could it possibly be about if it isn’t about that?’

‘your better at this than me.’ when he told her this y/n couldn’t help but sadly look at him in the eyes with her brows scrunched together.

‘you just are. and you know it.’ shaking her head in denial he continued to talk—‘believe me, i wish there was slither way this quest succeeds. i just don’t see it.’ he finished as she sadly looked over at the chair, her heart clutched in a way she can’t explain.

as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the pen she gasped when she knew what he was trying to say.

‘percy no…’ she told him while shaking her head. looking up at her ad she kept her eyes focus to his hand with hers pushing it away slowly, he confusingly shook his head.

‘i’ve let you sacrifice your life for mine twice..and i’m not letting you do it again. i owe you a great amount for saving me and this is the way i’m going to do it—‘

‘y/n no this isn’t how it goes—‘

‘it’s how i want it to go! i want it to happen like this and it will. you will get the shield and get out of here to get the bolt and save your mom. you will see her again and you will finish this quest. percy, we barely know each other and you’ve saved me twice. let me return the favor please.’ she told him. he shook his head in denial while his eyebrows frowned only for her to give him a small nod and smile.

placing her hand in his before giving it a squeeze she let go as he could only stare in the spot she was once in and turn his body to where she walked towards the gold chair.

‘can you promise me something?’ she asked while turning around—‘i’m not going to let annabeth get sad and stop the quest.’ he told her as she nodded.

‘i was going to say maybe try and come back with annabeth and get me out this chair? i don’t want to be forever young in an amusement park.’ she tired to lighten the mood, making him scoff with slight tears in his eyes as she smiled.

‘do you really think you had to ask?’ he asked her as she smiled a bit—‘just reminding you’.

turning around to climb up into the chair, she sat down with both of her hands on the sides of it as it started to make noise. looking a bit worried, percy looked at her as she looked around.

‘this is kinda weird. it feels…warm.’ she told percy who had tears forming fast.

looking down, gold started to run up from her shoes and started to make its way up her body.

‘this is a bad idea—y/n stand up!’ he told her.

‘i can’t…’

‘y/n stand up, i mean it!’ he told her more urgently, his face growing more sad but he second as his heart clutched.

‘it’s okay percy…i’m okay….im okay…im—‘ just then the gold finished consuming y/n’s body as she turned into a gold statue in the chair.

shaking his head, percy sadly looked around as he watched the shield fall loose. making his way over it he ignored it and immediately went to work on the gold chair y/n sat still in.

not knowing what he was going he just started to twist random screws and geers. just then a man walked through a door with a beard and a cane.

‘can i help you?’ he asked him only for percy to ignore him completely and try to get y/n out of the chair.

‘do you need some help finding your way out?’ the man playing a flute as it made steps appear out of the water below.

‘so off you go.’ he told him as percy shook his head and started to turn random things once more—‘i’m not leaving without my friend.’

‘yeah that isn’t really how it works. it’s kind of a one way sort of thing. it can’t be undone.’ he told percy who rolled his eyes.

‘how do you know?’

‘because i built it.’ he revealed himself—hephaestus.

‘i’m not leaving here without my friend.’ percy told him once more. ‘and if you aren’t going to help me, could you maybe leave me alone so i can focus?’

‘in spite of what my brother might have told you, i am not someone who’ll be pushed around.’ignoring him as he continued to turn geers and try to get y/n out, hephaestus continued to talk—‘i know her mother was displeased with her recently, but how will your father feel if i told him this?’ he asked percy, making him almost focus on what he was saying.

‘you might not know how he gets, but i do. and this is a lot. even for him.’ standing up for a second percy listened and looked at hephaestus who’s hand held the railing in front of him.

‘you leave out of here with that shield, your a hero, on your way to the greatest glory. he will be proud and your friend might even be forgiven. and all will go back to being as it always has been, always will be, as it should be—‘

‘but it isn’t how it should be! it isn’t! eat or be eaten. peer and glory and nothing else matters. ares is that way, she’s is that way her mother… is that way.’ he told hephaestus who started to look to the side.

‘she isn’t that way. she’s better than that. maybe she was that way once, but she didn’t want to be that way anymore. we won’t be like all of you. i just won’t.’ hephaestus listening to percy as he sadly looked down and turned back to the chair, he almost went back to work only for hephaestus to blow his flute again and the geers started to turn.

clicking and making noise, percy hurried and made his way in front of the golden statue of y/n. her naturally colored eye started to show as she blinked it and the rest of her face coming back to normal, breathing heavily as y/n looked around at herself in the chair, the rest of her body coming undone.

percy happily looked at her as she looked up at him and loved her hands.

getting up as she stumbled forward to percy who grabbed her immediately he held her hands in his while looking over her face with a small smile and a tear dropped from his eye down his face.

‘some of us don’t like being that way either. your a good kid percy.’ hephaestus told him as he held y/n’s arm who worked on standing right.

‘i’ll put in a good word with your dad for you…same with you y/n with your mom.’ as he turned away from the two who looked at him before each other. the door he once went through shut.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

at the restaurant the three heard the bell of the door chime through the restaurant to reveal y/n holding the shield and percy close behind her. annabeth let out a breath of relief she didn't know she was holding as grover did the same, ares looking at the two not really believing they did it.

as they walked over to the table, she placed the shield down into the table. y/n and percy looking at ares whilst annabeth and grover looked at percy and y/n.

‘where’s our ride.’ percy started off.

as they walked outside to ares standing behind a semi truck both y/n and percy said—‘your kidding’

ares with a straight face clicked his two fingers together as the doors opened to reveal animals and stacks of hair in buckets and boxes.

‘get in, don’t. i really don’t care. but in a few hours this thing is gonna be at the Lotus casino in vegas. hermes hangs out there, you play your cards right and his personal driving can get you to L.A. in minutes.’ ares told them as he threw a bag at percy who caught it.

‘here. clothes, cash, drachmas to summon hermes. i’d wish you luck, but what good would it do you?’ he told them in his honesty.

‘we’re not gonna fail.‘ percy told ares who grinned.

‘don’t worry. your dad had plenty of kids he stopped caring about once he lost interest. you’ll have lost of company.’ ares tried to make percy feel bad but it didn’t work.

‘we’re not gonna fail, and i’m getting pretty tired of you saying it.’ he started as y/n looked at annabeth and grover.

‘percy…’ y/n and grover said his name in a warning town as ares’ face dropped from its grin.

‘you think you know who i am but you don’t.’ he stated while walking up to ares who kept his eyes trained on him—‘and if you're not careful…your gonna find out—‘

‘percy…’ grover and the two sisters walked up to his side as y/n placed her hand on his arm. percy’s glare not leaving ares’s who stayed the same.

‘so, thank you for the emotional abuse and the cheeseburgers…and the ride! we’re gonna take you up on that, too.’ grover told ares as he looked back at percy who finally walked off as he was being dragged by grover and given a push by y/n.

the group walking into the bus as ares looked at them as they stood in the portable barn, grover asked—‘hey, do you think we could get some paper towels or something, it’s not that nice in here.’ he finished while they looked around.

ares however only grinned before clicking his fingers once more as the doors shut.

‘well…this smells.’ percy commented.

‘if it gets us where we need to go, that's all that matters.’ annabeth told him as y/n nodded.

‘assuming ares was telling the truth.’

grover turned and picked with his hands as he shook his head—‘he wasn’t…not entirely, at any rate. he was holding something back.’ grover told him.

‘how do you know?’ y/n asked.

‘because, i think i got it out of him. i know who stole the lightning bolt.’

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy pjo #grover underwood #percy series #annabeth chase

[cookiecomics]

.

#its probably because i got a double dose of antidepressants but i need to vent #i'm tired of feeling tired #i don't even know concretely what i want to talk about #but the latest reblogs have been on my mind alot #i don't think the past year would have affected me as much as it had if it wasn't for the shunning and silence that #that comes with talking about microaggressions and racism in fandoms #its one thing to have a bad experience with a few people #its another when most of the people you knew just watched it happened #i know people dont believe ne #its easier to say im the 'aggressive one' #its just sad because i don't even have to be black online #im sad i feel like i have to choose #but the fandom was the first time i had so many nonblack friends at once #and i regret it so much #funny enough my dad always warns me every year about that kind of stuff #about the importance of keeping your distance from non-black folks #because of how quickly they turn on u when you're labelled difficult #he told me that again yesterday and he has no idea any of this stuff happened #that im on antidepressants now because i didn't listen to him #needless to say the second i finish my fic i don't want anything to do with p5 again #the only reason ive even continued is cause i love my story so much #i dont see the point in putting so much of my heart out in a fandom not safe for black folks #then again what fandom even is #delete later

[lisbonsteresa]

[through gritted teeth] i am so normal about this

#no no no it's just like.... #the difference between just these two instances from s1 to s3 is FASCINATING to me #he's not asking in the first he's just stating a fact and he's having his belief confirmed #(by a man who's now almost definitely going to be in jail for the rest of his life - #the less extreme of the worst case options jane's had in his head but still nothing to scoff at) he's told with passion and conviction that #the revenge was worth the cost; that he doesn't regret it in the slightest; that it was 'redemptive') #and that's exactly what jane thinks that's what he's built his life around for the past - at least 5? - years #but he IS asking in the second; it's years after the first and he's not the same man he was then #he does still believe in vengeful justice i think but it's not just him that he has in mind now #there's other people to consider - people that found their way into his head and his heart (despite any of his efforts to the contrary) #and he's asking this question to a man who's just been cleared of all charges (were they murder charges? idk i need to watch that ep again) #it's not just him he's thinking of now and it's not just the most concrete costs either #it's....idk it's a shift from the objective costs to the emotional costs; it's the shift from being told to asking i'm just obsessed #(also interesting that these are both men when the only time i can think of off the top of my head where he has this kind of interaction #with a woman is the s1 country club episode? the one with liz forbes? where she breaks down and says it doesn't change a thing #that's a completely new tilt to it too that's something to consider all of this actually has no point but where else am i gonna say it) #tm

[todayisafridaynight]

Sorry about the late reply haha, but I'm absolutely thrilled to hear you enjoyed reading my last ask!

About RGGJo (I've been been calling him a variant of that for ages too, but if I ever slip up and call him Jou, it's out of habit; I like to differentiate them by RGGO and 7's different official romanizations lol), I'd actually say it's not at all hyperbolic to describe him as relaxed. If you ever have a moment, I think going through his voice lines is one of the best ways to get acquainted with his character in a short time! (Article might be a little rough, I basically speedran it all in a day just to show you lol; also a lot of them are uh........ let's say borderline flirtatious)

That said, it is much less apparent before the timeskip. To go on a bit (or a lot) of a tangent, I think that kind of relates to something I've noticed about their relationship with authority. Which is to say, it feels like they have a tendency to walk on eggshells with regard to authority figures. I think that might be the single most consistent thing between their characterizations.

You do see that directly with Arakawa, of course. It's something established really early on for both of them. You can tell right away from Jo's sheepish look when Arakawa walks in on the yubitsume fiasco or RGGJo freezing up when Arakawa walks in on the equivalent scene that he's someone they genuinely seek approval from as an authority figure. And, y'know, 7 has that micro-interaction with Arakawa only needing to put a hand on Jo's shoulder to stop him, whereas RGGO has Mitsu directly stating that the only person who's able to calm him down when he's on a rampage is Arakawa. Honorable mention to the substory where Ichi stops RGGJo from killing some guy by saying it'd put Arakawa in a bad mood.

But I think the clearest example sort-of-outside of Arakawa, one that's more insightful with regard to authority in general (since you could say of course he respects Arakawa specifically), is actually from Ryuji's RGGO story. There was a fair amount of confusion, right, because it's canon to the console timeline, but they hadn't implemented the Arakawa Family's 7 sprites, and they used the RGGO ones. So the funny thing is, I could tell right away that everyone was supposed to be their 7 selves based on characterization

I did take the time to look over all of RGGJo's voice lines from the link you provided oh my god you weren't kidding about making quick edits i checked the log date and you were making changes just a few hours ago, bless you and your work fr and yeah no, his voice lines definitely give off a different feel from Y7Jo (and definitely no joke about the more 'flirtatious' lines- evidently as someone who's mostly perceived Y7Jo it's jarring to say the least. Not that I'm complaining, it's incredibly interesting to see the difference)! It's almost funny to me how different their personalities seem, I wonder what made RGG decide to conceal his more 'playful' personality..

In regards to his relationship with authority- or I guess I want to talk more specifically about with Arakawa- the backstory each Jo has offers different avenues for explanation as to why he's so readily obedient.

I have to make a disclaimer right now and say I'm not totally caught up on Ichi's RGGO story (I stopped just after their fight on the rooftop), so maybe more background to Jo is given. Nevertheless, for RGGJo, his reasons for being obedient aren't exactly clear aside from respecting Arakawa's influence/power (as noted by his irezumi, I'm pretty sure). On that note though, I haven't seen the bit from Ryuji's story- something I'm definitely going to look into once I get some time this week (and it's neat that the Jo's are distinct enough from each other that you can discern which iteration it's supposed to be despite the sprite used: I'm excited to see that for myself!).

Inversely, the context that Arakawa has been taking care of Jo's son offers a more concrete form of an explanation as to why he's compliant. It's not bad to assume I think that Jo genuinely respects Arakawa's authority, but it's that added context that adds an extra layer to his behavior.

#long post #fave #snap chats #what a better way to start the day than talking about jo thank you for another fun ask !! #i feel like making some stretches tho- left em out of the main text so i dont look TOTALLY insane #ill just look silly down here LMAO #but back to Y7Jo since im the most familiar with him and have had more time to ponder him #i feeeeel like making some psyche-related reaches for his reaction to authority #it's noteworthy that jo came from an abusive household even if he did runaway when he was 14/15 years old #and the effects of that feel the most apparent whenever aoki yells at him #he doesnt try to say anything or even apologize- he looks sheepish and stands quietly until aoki's done #it could just be the projection coming out but it's not uncommon for kids to let their parents scream at them #because what can they do? their parent is the authority figure so their input isn't valid #ironic im saying all that when referencing /aoki/ and /jo/ but it's a cruel irony now isnt it #BUT thats all of my silly rambling. again this is more theorizing than anything im super concrete on #i blame having had to do my psyche paper this weekend but id be lying if its not somethin i think bout a lot #its just not something id try to pass as hard fact to anyone #in any case thats all i have to say :) thank you again for the ask !

[emmyrosee]

Sukuna hates how petty you can get when you’re fighting.

There is a part of him that loves your stubbornness, sure, like when you huff at him and make him work for your affection, but right now, you’re on day three of the silent treatment, and he’s losing it.

You enter a room and he’s already in it, you leave. You’re talking to yuuji and he comes in, you stop talking immediately. You haven’t been staying the night anymore, and you haven’t given him a kiss goodbye any time you’ve left. Even his ma is questioning what he did wrong, and he can’t give her a concrete answer.

He’s losing it.

Hes spammed texted you, he’s been trapping you in rooms by leaning in the doorframe, he’s been trying to get yuuji to be his messenger, but nothings working. You’re not biting.

“You’re over complicating this,” yuuji shakes his head and thumbing through channels. “Literally just apologize.”

“At this point I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for!”

“Well they’re on their way over, thinking you’re going to apologize, so you’d better figure it out.”

“You’ve been an immense help, thank you, asshole.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and when Sukuna takes a deep breath and answers it, you nearly spin on your heel to leave.

“Oh I don’t think so,” he snips, grabbing your hand and pulling you in the house and trying not to focus on how you’re not even fighting against him, and that’s how indifferent you are to him. “We’re talking. Like it.”

“Hey dawg!” Yuuji cheers, clicking off the tv and waving. You wave back, your streak of not talking in front of Sukuna continuing. The younger chuckles, “I’ll let the adults duke it out. See ya!”

The room fills with silence as yuuji leaves, making Sukuna immensely uncomfortable. The way you’re looking at him has him uncomfortable, you’re making him so uncomfortable, and he just wishes you’d toss your pride to the side and talk to him and cuss him out or something.

“You look… good.”

Nothing.

“I’ve missed you.”

Nada.

“I made out with someone else because I got sick of you ignoring me.”

You scowl at him.

“Okay, I was lying. I was hoping you’d cuss me out.”

No dice.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” He takes a deep breath in to try and ground himself, and you merely watch him with a hurt expression.

Okay. That didn’t help his situation.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbles, making a move to guide you backwards. He’s got you backed into a wall, hands on your shoulders while your arms stay nonchalantly crossed.

“I don’t get why you’re so mad at me; what did I even do?” He snaps, leaning close to your face threateningly.

You blink unamused.

Oh.

You’re gonna speak alright. He’s gonna make sure of it.

“Speak.”

You merely look him up and down and turn your head.

“Talk! Now!”

You let a tired exhale through your nose pass.

“I said i was sorry, and i know you know that was hard for me, why am i still being punished by you?” It’s bait to make you mad and talk, he knows he hasn’t apologized to the most sincere of his ability, but he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Maybe I’ll tickle ya, how about that?”

That, does, have your eyes widening but you still don’t spare him a breath. He smirks, “I’d bet you’d hate that, huh? Holding in all that laughter and begs for me to stop, knowing I’m not going to until you talk to me… and I’ll do it too. You know that.”

You merely cross your arms over your chest tighter.

He shrugs, “you asked for it.”

And he’s gotta say, he’s impressed with how little you’re fighting back from him scooping you in his arms and tossing you on the couch, straddling you, even taking your two wrists in his massive paw and holding them above your head. Your lips wobble in anticipation, and he’s got you booked now. “Any last words? A quick ‘I hate you,’ maybe?”

You blink, bored, almost calling his bluff, and he comes up to smack his face in frustration. He wasn’t actually bluffing, he did have full intentions of making you scream, but he was so sure you’d crack under his gaze, even a quick kick to him as he was adjusting your body.

No dice.

With a shrug, hands come down quickly to tickle the meat of your ribs, settling in the dips and scratching at the bones maddeningly. He sees your lip become wobblier, and he smirks down at you. “Nothing? Not even a giggle? You must be pissed at me.”

You screw your eyes shut to ignore him and he clicks his tongue, “now you can’t even look at me? That sucks.”

He leans down to nibble at your neck and ear, whispering little words against your skin to make you squeak. But it isn’t until he cheats and uses his mouth to blow a raspberry on your sensitive neck, an area he’s so used to pressing loving kisses to, that you finally crack.

“YOURE SO CHEAP!” You scream, followed by a flurry of laughter and struggling from his tight hold. Your laugh is whiny and desperate, feet digging into the couch while his fingers merely slither up and under your arms.

He smirks against your skin, “gotcha.”

“Fuck off!” You squeal, tugging as hard as you can in his grasp. “Stohop it!”

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me?” He asks. You shake your head back and forth, but he cocks a brow. “Is that a no? Are we going to talk about your issues with me, or am I going to have to tickle you for the next few hours?”

“HOURS?!” You howl.

He shrugs, “you ignored me for three days, least I deserve is to tickle you until you sob.”

“I wasn’t-“ you’re cut off by a flurry of your own giggles. “This isn’t-“ a few more yowls of your laughter when he digs in more. “FUCK OFF!”

“Nah,” he snickers. “This is more fun.” He does, however, stop his torment and pulls back, but he does look down at you impatiently. “Speak,” he echos from earlier.

You let out a few more titters slip past your lips, but you do sober up slightly, “you don’t even care that I was mad at you.”

“Uh, I was about to tickle you until you died, I think I cared too much-“

“No, Sukuna. You just didn’t want me to be mad. You never apologized and you never even bothered to try and make it better…”

This, oddly, has Sukuna’s heart twisting, squeezed with emotions and realization that he did mess up, pride couldn’t save him now and if he wanted to fix this, he’d have to prove it.

He sighs in truce, “I’m sorry, babe.”

“….”

“What?”

“That’s it?”

He rolls his eyes, “what else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to care that I was hurt!” You whine, raising on your elbows. “I want you to understand I was hurt, that you messed up! Not be so prideful and not admit it!”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he groans. He locks eyes with you, and he knows you’re not going to like it, but he leans down to kiss you, using his two hands to cup your jaw, letting his thumbs stroke your bone lovingly. “I’m sorry. It must’ve sucked having to deal with my shitty ass apologies before. I never should’ve pulled that shit, and I hated not having you by my side.”

This, has you softening.

He presses another kiss to you, “I missed your laughter. I missed you scolding me. I missed you being sarcastic… don’t pull that silent treatment shit again, will ya?”

You hum happily, “don’t piss me off and I won’t have to.”

He blinks unamused, and as the thought of tickling you again crosses his mind, you lean up to kiss his lips giggling softly in the warmth. “I’m kidding. You and I both know you’re not going to stop pissing me off.”

“Love when you answer your own demands,” he chuckles.

The tightness in his soul loosens as you submit to his affections, and he does make a mental note to never piss you off so bad again where you go back to happy to never talk to him again. He hates it more than even he knows, drags him down and he feels like he’s missing a crucial part of himself.

But it is good to know he can get you back out of that funk.

#sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #sukuna x gn!reader #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna imagine #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen fluff #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader fluff #sukuna ryomen x gn!reader #sukuna ryomen imagine #sukuna ryomen jjk #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk imagine #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x gn!reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

[yuwuta]

VITAMIN ME — JUJUTSU KAISEN BOYS + SICK FIC

featuring. gojo, toji, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu, itadori, choso, fushiguro

content. taking care of the boys/the boys taking care of you when feeling sick, all fluff, no warnings 

word count. 2.5k 

SATORU GOJO

He doesn’t feel under the weather often, but when he does, it hits him tenfold. He’s whiny, dramatic, borderline inconsolable, and feels well within his rights to demand your undivided attention, because he’s not usually like this… sick, that is (he is usually whiny and dramatic, no illness in the world could take that away from him).

You and him both know when he’s dragging it, but you can’t help but to feel bad for him. Because when Satoru is sick, he’s sick—you feel like you need to constantly monitor all his vitals, set a timer to make sure he gets medication because he’s so cold and pale and sluggish, it’s worrisome. Of course, he finds the strength to tease you, “You worried about little old me, sweets? Don’t be—‘m gonna be fine, you know. But I hear kisses cure the flu.”

“Not scientifically proven, or peer reviewed,” you tell him, “But you know what is? Tylenol. Time for more, open up, Satoru.” 

“Will I get a kiss? Just a little one?” 

He gives you a hard time, even in sickness, but it’s only because he absolutely relishes being in your care, thinks you’re good at taking care of him; proven by the way you give in with a nod, and then a kiss after he takes his medication. He really does feel like shit right now, but with you here, caring for him, his heart has expanded ten times and a warmth spills into his chest that makes the pain insignificant. Satoru feels honored and humbled to have someone fuss over him like this—to have this concrete reminder that you worry for him and care about him and love him just like he loves you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO 

“You gonna feed me?” Toji grumbles, sounding much less threatening with a frog in his throat, “Because there’s no way I’m drinking that.” 

You roll your eyes, lightly tapping the spoon against the edge of the mug before placing it onto the coffee table and extending your arms towards Toji, “The ginger is good for you. The lemon, too, if you wanna stop sounding like a low-budget villain anytime soon.” 

Toji’s nose scrunches—it’s almost cute, if it weren’t followed by an infuriatingly stubborn turn of his jaw, pointedly away from you and back to the television. You huff, sitting down next to him—or as close as you can get through his mountain of blankets and forcefield of pillows—carefully nursing the cup in your palms. 

Who would have thought that the great Toji Fushiguro would be so stubborn as to let a little cold get the best of him. Him attempting to suffer without cold medicine wasn’t that surprising, but you didn’t think that he’d petulantly refuse tea just because of some ginger. Getting him to take his antibiotics only worked when you told him you’d boot him onto the couch if he didn’t, but that won’t work this time, he’ll call your bluff. 

You sigh, moving a pillow to your other side and reaching over to the coffee table to redeem your spoon. You fold one leg under the other and turn your body to Toji’s, scooping tea into the spoon, giving it a soft blow, and then raising it to his face. He quirks an eyebrow when he feels the steam brushing against his skin, and turns to you with a hellish grin.

He opens his mouth, to say something slick no doubt, but you take advantage of the opportunity to shove the spoon in his mouth, “You don’t get to talk until after you finish your tea.”

TOGE INUMAKI

Despite being a renowned insomniac and someone who is willing to throw away hours of sleep to binge watch his favorite series or complete a new game, Toge does believe that rest is the best medicine. He does take his own sleep seriously—it’s not his fault that most people consider his preferred sleeping hours to be regular waking hours.

So, even though it sounds a bit hypocritical, Toge is very firm about you resting as much as you can when you’re not feeling well. He’s quick to make a cocoon out of you in your two favorite blankets and fit you onto the couch to keep you within sight as he rummages around the kitchen to prepare your meals, and make sure that you don’t skimp out on your medication. He’s got some pretty effective homemade remedies for a killer sore throat, but cough syrup is cough syrup—he knows it tastes horrible, but if he has to force feed it to you, then so be it.

He feeds you spoonfuls of homemade broth and rice to make up for it, giggling as you scrunch your nose from the taste of the medicine. When you’re finished, he lets you tell him off and forgoes teasing you about how nasally you sound as he coerces you to lay down again. You don’t feel sleepy, but when Toge’s lips brush against your forehead, his words are like a spell that makes your eyes flutter shut, “Sleep, my love.”

KENTO NANAMI

“It’s cold, Ken,” you whine, sniffling at the end of your sentence. Kento sighs softly, switching off the light to the bathroom and taking careful strides to the bed. He carefully sits on the edge of the bed, expression sympathetic as you complain about the temperature again.

The room is actually slightly warmer than normal per your earlier request, but he knows you still feel cold because of how high your temperature is. It's exactly why he took your blanket from you—fuzzy, and warm, and weighted would all be enticing and acceptable if you weren’t running a very concerning fever. Kento absolutely hates to say no to you, but he has to do something to break your fever. 

“I know, darling,” he nods gently, settling himself onto his side of the bed. He’d prefer to have the comfort of a heavy blanket right now, too, but he wouldn’t taunt you like that—if you have to sleep without one, then so will he. He should get you another cold towel for your forehead, but you tug on his heartstrings when you scoot yourself closer to him, nose nudging against his thigh. He smiles softly, carefully reaching to tap at your arms, “Come here.”

You shuffle upwards and into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest with your arms coming to wrap around his torso. Kento lets you melt into him and wraps strong arms around your body to keep you close—body heat will have to do for now.

YUUTA OKKOTSU

Yuuta walks—waddles, really—with his blanket over his shoulders, mouth slightly ajar, and a box of tissue in his hand for good measure. He looks cute despite his febrile state, with his nose red and eyes wide and you have to resist the urge to coo at him.

“I thought the Benadryl would have kept you asleep at least a little longer,” you smile, turning off the heat underneath the pot.

“Something smelled good... and I got hungry,” Yuuta shrugs weakly, taking the remaining steps into the kitchen and plopping his body weight onto a stool at the island. He sniffles deeply, setting his box of tissues down on the counter, before pointing at the lowly simmering pot behind you, “Is that… for me?”

“No, it’s for my other sick boyfriend,” you grin, reaching into a nearby cabinet for a bowl. You giggle when you see Yuuta’s pouty expression, cheeks a light pink and bottom lip jutted slightly.

“It’s not nice to make fun of the ill,” he coughs. His façade is waning, already weakened by his sick state, and crumbling when you push a warm bowl of his favorite soup in front of him. You can’t help but to laugh a little louder because Yuuta’s eyes practically grow three sizes and you swear he’s salivating a little. 

He shakes away the shock, turning with a pout when he realizes you’re poking fun at him again, “You’re doing it again. Now you owe me a kiss.” 

“Do I?” you tease, taking the seat on the stool next to him, elbows resting on the counter, as you peer up at Yuuta’s flushed face. You’ll let him ride the excuse his blush being the fever for a little longer, “That’s risky. I might get sick, and I have a very cute boyfriend to take care of.”

“I’ll take care of you, too,” Yuuta all but whispers, tired eyes fluttering to your lips, “In sickness and in health, right?”

He leans down a bit and you meet him for a quick kiss, pulling away to smile, “I thought that was for married couples.” 

“I’ll fix that soon,” Yuuta smiles, satisfied. You giggle, reaching out to poke his red nose and then his cheek to turn his face back to his soup. 

“Well, then go ahead and eat and get well soon,” you muse, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, “I expect a very romantic proposal from an un-sick lover boy.”

YUUJI ITADORI

You should have known that Nobara was going to rat you out sooner or later, if not for your own wellbeing, then for hers—because despite your roommate being a caring soul beneath her tough exterior, she is not caring enough to risk her own health because you’re sniffling all over your shared apartment; especially not before she’s supposed to go on her first vacation with her boyfriend.

On the third day of coughing, Nobara tells you she’s going to camp out with Megumi until her flight, and that Yuuji is the person she’s entrusted with her keys until she returns back from her trip. So, it’s not a surprise that a mere hour later, you find Yuuji all but barreling through your front door with grocery bags in hand, all of which he promptly drops when he hears you hacking out your lungs on the couch, quick to dart to your side and hold your cup as you shakily drink some water.

“Babe! You’re, like, super sick,” he exclaims, now sitting criss-cross on your living room floor, slowly unpacking the grocery bags for a real-time haul, “You should have told me earlier, I could have gotten you all this stuff way sooner!”

“I’m fine, Yuuji. It’s a mild cold at most,” you reassure him, smiling to yourself as he rips open a new box of Kleenex and thrusts it in your direction. He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, untrusting of your words, before he springs up with the last grocery bag in hand.

“Well, still... I’m not a doctor, but I got all the medications Nanamin told me to get, so we’re gonna get this cold out of you in no time,” he grins, patting your head before leaning down to kiss your forehead, “In the meantime, how about some soup? Oh—I just saw a recipe for something spicy, that should help with your nose right? Or maybe ramen? Leave it to me!”

CHOSO KAMO

You couldn’t help but to snap one more picture of Choso. You felt bad, a little bit, he was tired and sick and probably felt like crap, but he looked very cute when he was sleepy, cuddled up in fuzzy blankets from head to toe, with just enough space to expose his tired eyes and red nose. One more wouldn’t hurt. 

You smile to yourself as you look back at him, slipping your phone into your pocket and walking over to join Choso on the couch. There’s not enough room for you to sit in the seat, so you have to cotch yourself in the arm of the couch closest to his head and gently reach out to move a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. It would make for another cute picture, but you refrain, choosing to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead instead, before standing to start picking up the spare tissue and cough drop wrappers littered around him.

You always tell him he’s going to worry himself sick, and he’s managed to do just that. It was a little fun, a little cute, but mostly, you’re just happy that Choso is resting. You know that sleep doesn’t come easily to him under normal circumstances; if being a little under the weather is what gets your boyfriend to slow down and care for his body, then so be it; you’ll be there to help him out.

You’re about to head into the kitchen, when you’re stopped by a warm hand brushing against your leg. You turn to see Choso limply reaching out of your, slowly blinking awake, before weakly beckoning for you again, “Stay here,” he croaks, “Please?”

You smile, placing the gathered trash onto the coffee table, before burying yourself within Choso’s blankets. You have to do a little wiggling to get underneath him, but Choso doesn’t mind, happily resting his weight against you, eyes already fluttering closed again, not before he lets you a meek, “Thank you. I love you.”

You give him one final kiss to the crown of his head, “I love you, too.” 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

“Megumi, are you… okay?” you question softly, leaning over the small restaurant table to squint at your boyfriend. You’d been watching him carefully since he’d picked you up from your house, deducing that something was definitely wrong, even if Megumi had been trying his best to hide it.

He could be quiet, but he was definitely not soft spoken, nor did he normally wince after swallowing a bite of his food. You should have known something was off from the start, when you’d held hands on your walk and Megumi’s fingers were warm, and not icicles attached to his palm.

Megumi freezes, mouth gaping slightly, before he closes it and composes himself with slumped shoulders—he’d considered keeping up his brave front, but it’d be futile at this point, so he sighs, “My throat hurts, is all,” he confesses, the hoarseness of his tired voice peeking through, “I had a fever yesterday, but it was fine this morning.”

You lean over a little more, just enough to be able to extend your hand so that the back of your palm meets Megumi’s forehead. It’s warm, to no surprise, and you find yourself tutting, recoiling your hand slightly, with enough space to flick him.

“Ow?” He groans, and you only roll your eyes. You pull back to fish through your bag, to pull out some cash and leave it on the table. Megumi begins to question you, but you’re not hearing it, getting up to sling your purse over your shoulder and grab your boyfriend by the forearm.

“You’re an idiot,” you scold, ushering him out of the restaurant, “We are going to urgent care to get you a strep test, and then to that bakery Nanami tells us not to tell anyone about to get you soup, and then you are going to sit and eat it and contemplate your actions for the rest of the evening.”

Megumi lets himself be dragged away—another tell-tale sign that he really is feeling under the weather (which is also what he chooses to blame his blush on). If “contemplating his actions,” was code word for you hovering over him for a bit, then maybe he wouldn’t mind.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #nanami x reader #inumaki x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #choso x reader #gojo smut #megumi x reader #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji smut #kento x reader #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles

[assassinsblade]

Arrows and Ashes

You and Cassian are ambushed when trying to meet with Eris in the Autumn Court. When an interrogation ensues that leaves you permanently scarred, how will Azriel react?

WC: 4.7k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff.

Part 2

—————————————

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was damp. From the cold, wet floor to the musty air and your blood-soaked skin.

How long had you and Cassian been here? How long had it been since Autumn soldiers had ambushed you in the woods of the Autumn Court, shooting arrows directing into the war general?

It couldn't have been more than a day. You didn't even think it was night time yet. But it felt like it had been an eternity.

From the interrogations to watching Cassian writhe around in pain due to the faebane arrows protruding from his wings... time continuously ticked slower.

You ached. Your entire body cold with sweat despite your lack of clothing. Dirt and blood coated your skin, and you tried to ignore how uncomfortable it felt against your normally soft flesh. You couldn’t though. You couldn’t ignore the situation you were in. Not when it only seemed to be getting worse, and you had no escape in sight.

You might not make it out of here.

You had left that morning expecting to return home quickly. You had left with a plan to meet Eris Vanserra and return to the House of Wind for a bath, to read a book, to have a nice dinner with friends, and maybe even get to spend time with your mate.

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost picture him bursting through the cell door, blue siphons ablaze with power and face molded into an expression of beautiful fury.

But he wasn't here. And you might never see him again.

"Cassian..."

"Don't." He demanded. His voice was cracking with weakness, but he tried to sound resolute. "Rhys is coming."

He didn’t sound convinced, and you could tell that he was worried you were running out of time too. It might not have been long enough for Rhys and the others to be concerned, but it was long enough for the Autumn Court to inflict permanent damage.

You let out a shaky breath, grief already swimming in your chest. Grief for what could have been with you and Azriel if you hadn't been so scared. If you had told him sooner about the bond that had snapped for you. If you hadn't been so focused on him wanting you for you and not the idea of the bond.

“I need you to promise me you'll tell him."

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you tried to hold back your cries. You didn't want your life to end so sadly. You wanted to be able to speak with your friend, pretend like everything was okay, reminisce on the happy times you had with the people you loved.

Instead, you were laying nearly completely bare on a concrete floor, shackled, covered in blood, tears, and vomit. Your body had been taken apart, your skin flayed open, beaten. You thought you must look like an animal on a butcher's board, your body a canvas of gore.

Cassian was not unharmed either. When they had captured the two of you, they had shot him down with faebane arrows: a dozen or two of them. His wings were severely injured, and his power was subdued from the faebane. He had taken beatings as well, but when they realized how well-trained the general had been in withstanding interrogations, they turned to you.

Inflicting damage on your body was a way to get either yourself or Cassian to talk. They taunted him with your pain, and you felt guilty that this would most likely haunt him as much as it haunted you. Would he forgive himself for doing the right thing and protecting his court?

The two of you were on your way to meet with Eris to go over some plans when you were ambushed by Beron's men. Based on their line of questioning, they still did not know of the eldest son's plans of a coup, but they were suspicious of the Night Court presence in their land.

They used the opportunity to not just ask why you were there, but to interrogate you about the new Night Court addition: Nyx. They wanted to know about his powers, how strong he seemed to be, if he can be used as a weapon, how many guards are constantly with him...

But you and Cassian would never betray your family nor your court.

So when Cassian refused to answer, and the whip came down on your torso, you tried to block out his yells, his growls, his apologies. You tried to block out the pain as the leather cleaved into your skin, flaying it open until muscle showed. You focused on what you would do when you got out of here; how you would go to the library with Nesta and pick out new books, how you would go shopping with Mor, how you would go flying with Azriel.

You focused on happy memories with your friends as fists landed on your cheeks, dug into your ribs. As Cassian took blows, you tried to remember the way he'd make you laugh, contorting his groans of pain into his teasing hums and chuckles.

But as you laid in a pool of your own blood, the taunts of the soldiers echoed in your head, and you knew what was coming.

Your wings would be next to go, and with that, so would you.

Despite yourself, you wondered how Azriel would react. If he would mourn you, if it would hurt him as badly as losing him would hurt you. You wondered how Cassian would tell him about the mating bond, if he would have Azriel sit down first, if Rhys would be there for support as well.

"We are getting out of here," Cassian said, voice stronger and more determined. "And you are telling him yourself."

But then the cells were opening, footsteps marching down the hall, and three males were walking toward you with purpose. They gripped you by your forearms, pulling you up harshly, and you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your panic down.

The lacerations on your arms and abdomen from the whip were burning with a vengeance, infection certain to be spreading from the dirt pressed into them on the concrete. The males' hands twisted around your wounds, and you gasped weakly at the pain as they hauled you to your knees.

The shackles were connected to a hook on the wall, lifting your arms slightly, allowing them full access to your back. Your back that they had not whipped, because they were waiting for this.

"Daisy," he called your nickname -- the one given to you by Azriel when you all were only kids. "Look at me. Just look at me, alright? I'm here."

Your whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and anticipation at what was to come. Panic was suffocating you, building in your chest and making its way up your throat, and you thought your bladder might have even released with how petrified you were.

Cassian's voice was still echoing in the background, but you could only focus on the clanging of chains, the footsteps behind you, the sound of a sword unsheathing.

Your fingers dug into the shackles, fingers white with how hard you were gripping them, trying to steel yourself for what was to come.

"Lord of Bloodshed..." one of the males taunted, spinning the sword around in his hand. "I think you know what this is for."

You drowned out the male's voice. His nasally, grating, voice that seemed to irritate your ears. You drowned out the words that would doom you, focusing instead on listening to your own breathing and heart beat.

You were alive. You were strong.

There was silence after a while, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gritted your teeth, tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

You tried to suck in a breath, tried not to let his protection of his nephew, his protection of his brother, of his court, hurt you. But the sword came down, and your lungs were not yet filled with air.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe.

It was like your limb was being torn from your body, nerve endings flaying open, on fire, agony coursing through your veins and sending a shock through your body all the way to your head.

You thought you might have made a noise, but you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears, and your chest seemed stuck.

Blood splattered across the wall as he pulled the sword out of your wing. It hadn’t gone all the way through; instead, it had gotten stuck in one of the lines of thick membrane, and you gagged when he pulled it from where it had stopped, tissue separating with the motion.

It came down again, a hacking motion, unclean and barbarous, dragging through tendons and nerves.

You had never been in so much pain before. You thought you might be going into shock, your body shaking, stomach nauseous, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing with white noise.

You were only semi-aware of the burning coming up your throat, of the smell of your own vomit.

Cassian’s voice was muffled, drowned out in your mind, but you could hear the sorrow, the panic, the guilt.

Your hands were limp in the shackles, body slumped forward into the wall when the first wing fell to the floor with a thump.

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

And when the sword came down toward the second wing, your adrenaline now out of your system, you couldn’t help the piercing scream that echoed off the walls. You screamed and sobbed and shook until the hacking broke through the second wing too, slicing and grinding it to the floor.

Your entire body was covered in sweat. Cheek pressed to the wall, arms hung above your head but body hanging limp. You tried to stay conscious. You tried to focus on the sounds of Cassian’s sobs, the way he called your name and tried to get your attention. You tried to blink the dizziness away, tried to focus on the blood pooling around you into a large circle.

But everything ached and stung.

As the shackles were released from the wall, weight now imbalanced, your body didn’t even know which way to fall.

You landed in a puddle of your own blood, urine, vomit, and tears. But you were too tired to move, too hurt to move. So you laid there, cheek pressed into the sticky, hot, red liquid, and watched as your friend begged you to stay awake.

Breath stuttering in your chest, blood wavering in front of your mouth with each heave, you reached a hand out to your friend. Just barely. With only enough strength to inch your fingers forward, your body twitching with pain and exertion, you made the motion, tried to communicate that you did not blame him, that you understood, even if your chest ached with hurt.

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

There were times you could hear voices, ones you recognized. Other times it was peacefully quiet. You tried to bask in those moments, where there was no pain or noise—only you and your mind. Where you could pretend like everything was fine and you and Cassian had never left for the Autumn Court early that morning. Or that you had met with Eris as planned, gotten the intel you needed, and returned in time for supper.

But those voices would interrupt your peaceful state, arguing and panicking.

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

You were only brought back to full consciousness briefly when you felt a searing hot pain in your back, pulling you from your sleep gasping for air.

You were on fire, dear gods, you were burning alive.

And then Cassian was in your eyesight, his hazel eyes shining with concern. His hand reached out to cradle your head where it laid atop a pillow, the other stretched across the tops of your shoulders to keep you held down onto the table.

“I know, I know,” he reassured quickly. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

But you didn’t believe him. How could you be okay when you felt like this? When you didn't even understand what was happening?

You were choking on your own cries, on the tears and drool pooling in your mouth. Cassian tried to wipe them away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

Your fingers grasped at the wood underneath you, your legs kicking at an invisible weight holding your lower half down.

“Please-“ your voice shook as your body trembled. “Stop.”

You could feel yourself losing consciousness again, your vision going spotty, the pain too much for your weak, shocked body to handle.

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

You didn’t think you would live past this though. This was unbearable. Pure hot torture raging across the skin of your back and melting the muscle, nerves, and bone.

Distantly, you realized what they were doing. They were cauterizing the wounds. Burning the flesh to stop the bleeding, to give you a chance at healing before it was too late.

Mouth dry, your voice gave out, and you let out hoarse squeaks of pain.

It could have been sixty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the weight on your legs shifted, and the fire edged away.

Your lashes and cheeks were wet with your tears, tongue bitten in your screaming. And as you tried to breathe again, tried to focus on Cassian’s voice as he addressed Eris, on his hand stroking your hair back, you thought of where you could be. If you were actually going to make it back to the Night Court, if you were actually going to survive this.

Gruesome lashes ached on your legs, abdomen, and arms. The weightlessness at your back paired with the smell of burnt flesh brought an image of barbecue to your brain that had you gagging again.

You might survive, but your body wouldn’t. This was no longer you, no longer the body you would have willingly given to Azriel, with the glowing bond in its chest he remained unaware about.

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

“We’re gonna get you home,” you heard Cassian speaking softly to you.

Eris moved around in the background, gathering and packing up supplies in another room of whatever isolated home he had brought you to. You never thought you’d be so grateful to see the auburn-haired male, or that he’d actually put his ass on the line to save you, but here he was.

Had he heard you were captured upon your missed meeting? Did he release you himself?

You knew he would have to find a way to explain how you two got out from the cells. It would most likely end in some form of physical abuse toward him from Beron. The thought made your stomach turn with more sorrow and guilt.

“Eris sent a letter to Rhys. He knows where we are, and he’ll be here soon.”

You let the words comfort you, your eyes fluttering shut and muscles trying to relax after being attacked.

A sharp pain separate from the physical torture you endured burned in your heart, though, as you realized how everything was going to change. Your wings were gone. They took your wings, and with it any happiness or confidence you had felt.

You felt tears swim in your vision, your eyes so exhausted you could barely keep them open enough for the liquid to fall down your cheeks. Cassian immediately wiped them away with his thumb, his brow scrunched in concern as he watched you.

“My wings-” your voice wobbled, and Cassian immediately brought his head to yours in a makeshift hug.

“I know,” he tried to soothe, his voice pinched with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

Eris appeared once again, carrying a blanket and what looked like a loose nightgown. You only then realized how bare you still were from the dungeon and your injuries.

“Here,” the usually cold Autumn lord set the clothes to the side, pulling the blanket out instead. He draped it across your body, adjusting it so it covered from your shoulders to your toes. Cassian gave him a somewhat surprised and suspicious glance, but nonetheless nodded his head at the male gratefully.

“Rhys responded and should be here any minute. The wards are open to him. I assume he is collecting his own healer-”

Eris didn’t even have a chance to finish before shadows materialized in the corner of the room, an intimidating presence taking up the space and charging for the auburn-haired male.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Azriel-” Cassian jumped to his feet, pulling the shadowsinger back. Azriel’s eyes remained locked on the Autumn Court heir, though, his eyes promising a pain he knew all too well how to deliver. “He got us out. We got caught, and he helped us. Without him, she'd be dead.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, body tense with anger. He seemed to take the moment to consider the words, to consider if he believed in their truth. Ultimately, he dropped his hands and turned toward where you laid.

His face crumpled, all anger and drive deflating into devastation.

Feet carrying him over to you, he fell to his knees in the same spot Cassian had just occupied.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, shaking hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You tried to blink up at him, but your vision was still slightly blurred. You could still see the concern in his eyes, though. The way the green and brown melded together with worry and care, sparking the gold tether in your chest alive.

“My sweet Daisy,” he muttered to himself. “What have they done to you?”

Daisy. The nickname was sweet on his lips, sweet as the day he labeled you as his flower. The young boy who had taken a look at the young Illyrian female ravaging her horrible family's garden in a rage and had endearingly called her Daisy. Had compared her to the pretty life that could grow in a horrible place, in horrible soil that kept preventing her from sprouting.

You didn't know what to tell him. Your body still shook with pain, adrenaline, and shock.

You heard Rhys arrive, heard Cassian and Eris explaining what had occurred to the high lord and his healer. You heard Madja curse at the arrow wounds in Cassian's wings, and Cassian insist she help you first.

"You're going to be okay," Azriel placed a soft kiss to your fingertips peeking out from the top of the blanket. "And I am going to make them pay. They are going to regret ever touching you."

You tried to focus on his pretty eyes, his dark eyelashes highlighting the light hazel. He looked so worried, so hurt himself.

Shuffling behind you made your breath hitch, and then the blanket was being moved down your back, exposing your wounds to the cold air.

You winced, a sound you would equate to a wounded animal echoing into the solemn room. Azriel’s hand gripped your own, eyes watching your reaction intently.

But you watched as his eyes moved from your own to glance at what everyone else was seeing—what Madja was here to work on. His face immediately paled, his jaw clenching tight, and his fingers digging into your own.

Did it look as bad as it felt?

You wondered if someone would be able to find you beautiful after this. If Azriel would be able to look at your skin and see a pretty female and not someone who had been put through a meat grinder.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his eyes away from your back and locking onto your own again.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he was trying to contain himself, reign himself in from exploding.

“I didn’t tell them,” you finally spoke. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and throwing up, and dry from lack of water.

Azriel looked as if you had hit him, and you heard Rhys immediately come to your side next to the shadowsinger. He knelt down and placed a kiss to the sweaty skin at your temple, stroking your hair lovingly before looking at you sternly.

“All we care about right now is that our friend is alive and safe. Don’t worry about anything else right now. I’m not.”

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

Rhysand looked haunted but not surprised. “Cassian told me. We will figure it out and plan for the worst.”

You didn’t answer the high lord, focusing on your breathing as Madja began skimming her hands over the gouges in your back.

Violet eyes met your own, and the hazel eyes next to him watched the healer’s actions with intensity. “I will never be able to repay the price you paid to keep my family safe. I am forever indebted to you.”

Tears fell down Rhys’ cheeks, and you wished you could hug him, the male you think of as a brother. But then you thought of how odd that would feel for you—for him—to hug without your wings.

You remembered his story of being captured during the war. How he said he went through endless abuse and torture, but they didn't touch his wings. He had said that touching them would have been the one way to get him to talk.

But you didn't.

“I’d do it again-” you began to say, but you were cut off by Madja’s actions, a piercing pain shooting through you. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hand clamping down on Azriel’s.

“Rhys.” Azriel demanded. What he was demanding, you weren’t sure. But his voice was firm, strong, a tone you hadn’t heard him use before with his brother.

Rhys seemed to understand though, because he stood and walked a few steps to the top of your head, putting a hand there.

“Can I take some of your pain away?” He asked gently, voice still strained from the emotions he showed.

You could barely give a nod of your head with how badly your muscles were tensed in agony. But he saw it, and as you felt the mental talons drag along the walls of your mind, your tear-filled eyes met Azriel’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” the shadowsinger said, eyes gleaming with sorrow. “My strong Daisy. My brave, brave girl.”

And with some of the pain gone—there, but now slightly more bearable as the healer worked—you could breathe a bit easier.

Azriel continued speaking to you, distracting you from the work going on around your body. “Before you know it, we’ll be back in Velaris. We can go to that bookstore you like and pick out as many books as you want. I’ll read one with you, if you want. Even one of those romances you like so much.”

He tried to give you a soft smile, but it looked sad, and it made your heart hurt.

A rough twist near your back and a sob escaped your mouth. Rhys’ energy swarmed stronger in your mind, and Azriel was quick to lean forward, face inches from your own, eyes drowning in fear and worry.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, voice heavy with panic. “Just focus on me. I know it hurts, but we’ve gotta do it. You’re almost done, sweetheart. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Your cries were becoming louder and you could hear Azriel cursing, could see through your tears the way he tipped his head up to look at Rhys in desperation.

“Can we put her to sleep?” He asked toward the healer, and if you didn’t know what he asked, the sound of his voice would have made you think he was begging.

It was silent for a moment, and you could feel Azriel’s hands start shaking around your limp one in his grasp.

Madja finally responded, sounding grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What can I do?” Azriel pleaded toward the healer.

You tried to control your sobs, control the way your body convulsed at the touches of the healer behind you. But it was excruciating, the lack of wings, the deep tendons, muscles, bones, and nerves ripped from your skin and haphazardly cauterized despite possible infection. And now to try to fix the rushed burns, to check for infection and draw it out...

“Keep her awake.”

Azriel’s head dipped down for a moment, either in sorrow or in order to compose himself. But then he was looking at you, so lovely and beautiful you nearly felt like you were dreaming.

And he tried to sound positive, his voice going up a bit to sound lighter, but it was strained and not entirely convincing.

“I found that cat you have been following around Velaris. The stray that tries to sneak into the coffee shop? I guess some of the customers feed him. They call him Bix, and he lives under the porch of the place.”

Your vision swims as you try to pay attention to what he is saying, and his fingers lightly tap your cheek.

“I'll take you to visit him soon. Okay? I'll even pet him this time."

You tried to smile at the image of the stoic shadowhunter holding a cute stray cat, but even the muscles in your face felt heavy and lethargic.

"Maybe we can get you a cat," he continued when he saw you listening. "I know you’ve always wanted one. And Rhys would probably give you fifty now if you asked.”

His voice was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more you wanted to sleep. His presence was like a balm to the last ten hours, the scent of him, the feel of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, all reminded you that you were safe again.

Rhys’ power rushed through you, and you could feel your body start to go numb, the pain ebbing away thanks to your friend and high lord.

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

“Hey-” Azriel sat up a little straighter, the movement pulling your eyelids open once more. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. You can sleep soon, I promise. Just not yet.”

But you could barely hear him. Your mind was already falling, vision warping into a blurry vignette.

Azriel was here. You were safe.

“Madja-” Azriel's voice became more frantic as he watched you start to fade. In a panic, he stood from his position at your side and gripped your face in both his palms.

His fingertips were gentle on your face as they lightly tapped, trying to get your attention without hurting you. When you didn’t respond, your heavy eyelids beginning to succumb to sleep, he began to tap a little harder, his strong hands trying to pull you back up.

The last thing you heard before finally allowing a pain free and peaceful rest to overtake you was Azriel pleading your name, a shuffle of two bodies, and then his touch being gone, his deep voice suspended in the room instead—a darkness trailing underneath it that would have had you on your knees if not for you floating into unconsciousness.

“Prepare for a war, Rhysand. Because if she doesn’t wake up, I will slaughter every last member of the Autumn Court.”

Before darkness enveloped you, you briefly wondered if their bodies would look like your own when he was finished.

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel fluff

[raynewolfegirl]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #jazz fenton #bane #arkham asylum #BAMF Jazz #Jazz is Danny's Mom #You cannot tell me that she didn't start viewing nearly every male around her as a child automatically after a life with Jack Danny and Vla #Feel free to add on #I was going to have one of the batkids show up toward the end #But it didn't have the same impact #And I don't think the guards had time to sound the alarm #Bane just got cleared from medical #Not even to his cell yet when he pulled this #Legit only tried because 'hey she's tall enough to be a human shield' #It was a bad decision lmao #Ngl Jazz's midwestern sensibilities would totally tell her Joker is a mad dog that needs to be put down #But I may be projecting #Meta Jazz #Arkham Intern Therapist #Meta Jazz AIT #MTAIT #AIT #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist #my original post #Because I reblog so much I now need that tag. lol

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Sunghoon

doll!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements, anything else lmk! wc: 8.9k synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return jaeyun | masterlist | jongseong a/n: hi! this is the second installation of this series and i'm enjoying writing it so so much! there's a little bit of the lore in here and i tried to put in some little nuggets like word play and everything to give you guys some hints! i hope you enjoy and as always, likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

In the week following your encounter with Jaeyun, you've stirred something deep within him. Whenever possible, he finds his way to your side, lending himself to you as he helps you with your daily chores, holding onto your hand when you sit down for some relaxation time between cleaning and cooking, and most importantly - at least for him - he’s been fucking you like crazy.

Something about last week made him feel alive, stronger than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to have that feeling ignited within him almost every day. He coaxed you into having sex a second time around by using those beautiful round eyes to pull at your heartstrings and break your resolve and from then your embarrassment subsided and you used one another to your heart's desire.

Having sex with a doll puts you in the same bracket as those lonely middle-aged men who have no friends and find solace with their rubber girlfriends, which is quite embarrassing. But this is different, you like to think, Jaeyun is for all intent and purpose alive and might as well be a real human.

Sure, he doesn’t have internal organs, his skin is made from thermoplastic elastomer, and his doll shell is made from durable porcelain with insulated heat, but he’s as real as they come. You did ask him how he can get hard and fill you up to the brim with his faux seed, but he says it’s just the way he’s designed. 

Soonyeol is a kinky bitch and she knew exactly what she was doing when she purchased these specific dolls.

You break Soonyeol’s rules almost every day because of him though, venturing into his room to fuck him silly, both of you seeking pleasure and comfort in each other's presence, holding one another close late into the night, swapping stories and laughter; it is nice to have someone to talk to, even if it’s in hushed tones.

Your inquiries into his origins and existence yield no concrete answers; after all, he's only been "alive" for a short time and consequently doesn’t know much about himself, his only offering is to explain that Heeseung and Jongseong know the most out of the four of them. And with your promise to Jaeyun to keep his slip-up of spilling the beans to you a secret from his brothers, seeking clarification from the other dolls remains off-limits.

That doll can get you to do anything he asks if he wants to and it’s almost embarrassing to admit.

As you go about your daily routines, you maintain a facade of normalcy, interacting with the other three dolls just as you did before discovering their secret. You speak to them as if they were merely inanimate objects, not expecting any response in return.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a sense of unease creeps in the longer you’re in the room with any of them that isn’t Jaeyun. You can't shake the feeling that their eyes are following you, tracking your every move with an unsettling intensity. What once was blissful ignorance is now hyper-awareness. 

At times, you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find objects mysteriously rearranged or misplaced when you turn to investigate. It's a subtle form of mischief, one that leaves you feeling disconcerted and off-balance, unsure of what other tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Jaeyun assures you time and time again that none of his brothers would act in malice, however, his words fail to instil any comfort, especially around Heeseung. 

From the moment you arrived at the mansion, Heeseung had captivated you with an inexplicable allure, drawing you in with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. It was as if he possessed a power unlike any of the other dolls. He was the one that got you to say yes to staying, you know it.

But beneath that surface charm, there's a darkness that unsettles you, a sense of malevolence that lingers in the air whenever he's near. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's a palpable sense of foreboding that hangs over your interactions with him, like a shadow creeping across your consciousness. He is dangerous and the soul - or whatever it is that he has that brings his doll to life - is entrenched in a dark cloud, one that you want to steer clear of for the rest of your time.

Despite your reservations, you find yourself drawn to Heeseung, unable to resist the pull of his enigmatic presence. But with each passing day, the feeling of unease only grows stronger, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath his doll facade.

You’re cleaning the library and the sun is beaming through the large windows, the hot sun adding an uncomfortable heat to your body.

You continue regardless, wiping your brow and dusting down the shelves with a lime green feather duster you found hidden in the kitchen cupboard. You wanted to do a good job but the library is extensive with wall-to-wall shelves filled with books ranging from present to pre-world war one and you’ll be damned if you’re cleaning each book one at a time; the feather duster will be your new best friend.

As you make your way toward the desk positioned in the centre of the room, a surge of curiosity washes over you, compelling you to indulge in a bit of snooping. The allure of uncovering secrets about the mansion and its mysterious owner, Soonyeol, proves irresistible, fueling your determination to explore further.

With cautious steps, you approach the desk, scanning its surface for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed documents. Your fingers itch with curiosity as you reach for the drawers, your heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. If there are any clues to be found, surely they would be nestled within the confines of this desk.

It’s ridiculous how exciting you find all of this like you’re in some James Bond movie about to uncover the deep secrets of the villain. It’s not that deep but you need to find some excitement in the quiet of this home, so why not make snooping around the fun part of your day?

Beside Jaeyun, of course. 

When Jaeyun is with you, you don’t pry into the mansion, scared that he will take it the wrong way, like you’re trying to expose the brothers and their minder.

Listen to yourself, Y/N. You’re worried about a doll’s feelings, you think to yourself and cringe. It’s concerning how much you don’t want to hurt the doll but that’s just the effect he has on you.

Your fingers wrap around the drawer handles, eagerness flowing through you as you prepare to reveal whatever mysteries may be hidden inside. You gently tug on the drawers, but to your dismay, they remain firmly closed, guarding their contents from prying eyes.

Frowning in frustration, you give the handles a harder shake, trying to remove whatever mechanism is keeping them locked. Despite your attempts, the drawers refuse to move, it's secrets tantalisingly out of reach.

“Shit,” you murmur, trying one more time.

Your gaze wanders over the desk, looking for any sign of a key or secret compartment that may lead to the contents of the drawers. Your pulse rushes with excitement as you dig through the desk, brushing your fingertips around the edges in search of a secret latch or trapdoor.

However, as you scan every inch of the desk, your search provides no results, leaving you feeling irritated and dissatisfied. There must be some way to get those drawers open, there’s no way if there wasn’t something secret inside, some form of incriminating evidence about Soonyeol, that she would keep them locked up. 

As you stand before the locked drawers, your mind flows with questions regarding Soonyeol's occupation and the mystery surrounding her actual identity. The mansion's vintage furnishings and rows of ancient porcelain dolls appear to point to a career in antique collecting, but an ongoing feeling of anxiety suggests darker possibilities. If she was a mere collector, how on earth did she manage to obtain four dolls who are alive? Is she just insanely clued up on possessed dolls and where to find them on eBay?

You look around the room to see if any pictures are hung suspiciously, all those nights of binge-watching Sherlock Holmes are coming in handy because you know now that pictures almost always hold either a safe or a taped-up key behind them.

You meticulously inspect each picture frame in the library, your eyes scanning for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed keys. You check portrait after portrait, your fingers tracing along the edges of each frame, but your efforts yield no results. Disappointment threatens to overwhelm you as you realise that your search has so far been fruitless.

Why is this proving to be so difficult? Surely there has to be something you can scope out, even a bobby pin would suffice at this point so you can pick at the locks.

Just as you're about to give up hope, your eyes fall upon an unusual floor-length portrait hanging inconspicuously on the far wall. It depicts the bizarre scene of a lamb with a human body, eating its sheep counterparts. It’s an unsettling fusion of outlandish and grotesque. You can't help but grimace at the tasteless decor choice, wondering what possessed Soonyeol to hang such a peculiar painting in her library. 

“Seriously? She is one fucked up lady,” you wince to yourself, wondering why she couldn’t just have a poster of some kittens or literally anything else.

Despite your feelings of unease, curiosity overcomes you, and you move forward to inspect the painting more closely. As you reach out to touch the frame, your fingers brush over the edge, and you notice that it seems there is a gap between it and the wall, as if there is something hidden behind it.

With your heart pumping from anticipation, you carefully pull the picture from the wall, exposing a dark wooden door that is concealed behind it. Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that this may be the breakthrough you've been waiting for. With shaky hands, you reach for the rusted doorknob and give it a cautious jiggle.

But just like the locked drawers, the door remains firmly sealed shut, thwarting your attempts to uncover its secrets. You groan out loud, tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in frustration. 

"What has a girl gotta do to find out what the fuck is going on in this place?" you mutter under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration and determination. You refuse to be deterred by this setback, knowing that you're not one to give up easily.

Gathering your resolve, you kneel down to inspect the door handle, your fingers tracing the contours of the keyhole with a sense of anticipation. You can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, the tension in the air palpable as you prepare to uncover whatever secrets lie beyond this enigmatic door.

As you peer inside the keyhole, your breath catches in your throat, your eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that shrouds the room. Every fibre of your being is on high alert, a sense of anticipation tingling at the back of your mind. 

But then, just as you begin to make out the faintest hint of movement within the darkness, something catches your eye - a faint glimmer of red light flickering like a flame from within the depths of the keyhole. Your heart skips a beat as a surge of apprehension courses through you, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip on your chest. 

What is that? 

Your heartbeat quickens as you realise whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s trapped behind that door for a reason. You squint your eyes further, trying to focus on the faint shapes you can see throughout the room but it’s proving difficult, the red beam being your only sense of light.

Time appears to slow to a crawl as you watch the red light pulse and flutter, its intensity increasing with each passing moment. Your palms go sweaty in anticipation, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on edge as you brace yourself to find out what is behind the door.

Then, without warning, just as you go to reach for the handle once again, the red light bursts brightly, obscuring your eyes. With a startled scream, you stagger backwards and deck onto the hardwood floor, your heart beating as adrenaline rushes through your veins. The room swirls around you as you try to regain some form of direction, your senses overwhelmed by the abrupt blast of light and the overpowering feeling of dread that persists in the air.

“Fuck!” you manage to yell out and as your senses slowly return, you find yourself gasping for breath, the remnants of the red flame still burning brightly in your vision, creating white spots behind your eyelids. With trembling hands, you reach out to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as your blood pumps nervously through your veins.

In a daze, you glance to your right, your gaze falls upon the portrait you had removed from the wall and it's changed - it is now portraying a human head with a sheeps body, eating it's mesty carcass, blood smeared over it's mouth and wool.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you quickly rush to replace it, your hands shaking as you fumble with the frame. Your heart feels as though it's about to burst from your chest as you struggle to hang the painting back in its rightful place.

Finally, with the portrait back on the wall, you step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to steady your racing heart and swallow the sick that rose from the pit of your stomach out of fear. 

But as you turn around, your heart jolts to a panicked stop in your chest as a new wave of terror washes over you. Sitting there, in the corner of the room where there was nothing before, is one of the dolls - Park Sunghoon, motionless and silent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are the last thing I need right now,” you say in frustration, pinching your eyes to extract the last few spots from your vision. It’s bad enough that you’ve just been blinded by god knows what, and now you’re being startled by Sunghoon’s sudden appearance.

Breathing out, you compose yourself and nod, “Okay, so I won’t be going near that door again,” you swallow thickly, trying to inject a laugh to lighten your heavy heart. Scouring around in Soonyeol’s drawers was one thing but you would rather be massacred by a hatchet at the hands of dear Sunghoon over there than find out whatever the fuck is behind that door.

As you regain your composure, a manic laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervous energy and relief bubbling to the surface. Sunghoon remains motionless, his expression unchanged, as if unaffected by the chaos unfolding around him.

You approach him with a mixture of curiosity, noticing the pair of frameless glasses perched on his face. It's a strange sight as you certainly didn’t put them on him this morning because why on earth would a doll need reading glasses?

"A fashion statement?" you quip, tapping the side of the lenses lightly. The failed joke eases some of the tension that still lingers in the air, and you find yourself chuckling softly as you take a seat on the table beside him.

Leaning in close, you lift Sunghoon's chin to meet your gaze, studying his features with fascination and admiration. Despite the unsettling circumstances, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of solace that washes over you as you take in his ethereal beauty.

His hair falls in soft waves around his face, his bangs framing his eyes in the most captivating way. His features are striking, from the delicate freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks to the sharp line of his jaw. Sunghoon's beauty is almost otherworldly, captivating you in a way that you can't quite explain.

"You'll protect me from whatever is in there, right?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood but Sunghoon sits mute and unmoving. You ponder if staying still like that hurts them or is uncomfortable; does it just come naturally? There are so many questions but after that ordeal, you’ll give up on prying for now.

You pat Sunghoon's cheek softly, smiling down at him before deciding to press on with your chores, hoping that the mundane tasks will help ease some of the weight from your shoulders and restore a sense of normalcy to your day.

With careful hands, you adjust Sunghoon's head to stare forward once more, a futile attempt to spare him any unnecessary discomfort - although you can't help but wonder if he's even capable of feeling pain. Setting him back in place, you make your way to the desk and retrieve your duster, ready to resume your duties.

Focusing your attention on the far side of the room, away from the ominous door, you begin to polish the ancient globe that sits near the entranceway. 

Spinning it idly, you sigh and think about all the places you want to see before you die. You’ve been stuck in this city your whole life only going as far as hopping from city to city and you are in dire need of some vacation time. Maybe it’s the red light that almost blinded you, but you’ve never felt more of an urge to pack up and go.

Maybe it’s just this place you need to get away from. 

But you’re stuck, something is keeping you here. Any normal person who saw what was behind that door would have run for the hills and never looked back, yet, despite the fear in your body that lingers deep inside, you don’t want to leave.

You’ve said this whole time it’s for the money but you could find work somewhere else, a job that wouldn’t give you chills in your bones. 

Once you’ve settled your nerves fully, you want to keep investigating this place and find out why Jaeyun and the other dolls are alive, and unfortunately for you, you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever is behind that door might just hold your answers. 

As you continue to clean, your eye is pulled to an object perched on one of the shelves: an old camera. Intrigued, you approach it, admiring its appearance with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. The camera's folding body, made of worn leather, emanates timeless beauty and carved nameplates on the side hint at its extensive past.

Upon closer inspection, you recognise it as a model from the 1940s or 1950s, similar to the Agifold your grandmother used to own. Memories of her beloved camera fill your thoughts, followed by a twinge of regret that you never got the opportunity to use it yourself. But now, with no one to stop you, an opportunity presents itself.

Gently, you pick it up and inspect it further, opening the back to see some film still lodged inside. You gently pick up the camera, its weight cooling in your hands. Opening the back panel, you uncover a roll of film that is still wedged inside.

Raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus and squint, searching for the perfect angle to capture the essence of the room. With a steady hand, you press the shutter button, the satisfying click echoing in the silence of the room.

Flash.

As you lower the camera from your eye, a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your lips. But as your gaze sweeps across the room, a chill creeps down your spine, and the smile freezes on your face.

Something is…different.

You scour the room, your eyes darting from one corner to the next in an attempt to discern what has changed so abruptly. It feels as though the world shifted in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented and on edge. The familiar sights of the room offer little solace as you search for any sign of what could have caused the sudden disturbance.

The painting of the sheep still hangs on the wall, which means the door remains shut - good. The books on the shelves remain undisturbed, their spines aligned in neat rows. The windows are shut tight, allowing only a faint breeze to filter through the cracks in the draught. Everything appears to be as it was before, except for one glaring absence.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that the lifelike doll is no longer within your line of sight. He has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an eerie emptiness in his wake.

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of his disappearance. Despite Jaeyun's assurances that his brothers are harmless, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that settles over you like a heavy fog. Even though Jaeyun is kind to you, the others may not share his benevolence. In a house filled with secrets and shadows, trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the slightest whisper of doubt. 

“You shouldn’t go around touching things that aren’t yours,” a hushed voice flows from behind you, taking advantage of your transfixed body to reach around your waist and take the camera from your trembling hands.

As he lets out a chuckle, Sunghoon moves around you with grace, returning the camera to its rightful place on the shelf. His towering presence now looms over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole.

Yet, you don’t feel threatened like you thought you would, somehow it was his lack of presence that put you on edge but now that he is standing before you, you know deep down you are in no harm. Your body relaxes a little, your spine finding its strength again as you straighten your posture.

Your movements amuse Sunghoon, his tongue running along his prominent canine as he smirks, “You don’t seem surprised?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows you must have already been in on their secret, “So was it Jaeyun? Did he spill like we thought he would?”

Jaeyun’s saddened face pops up into your head after your first time with him, begging you not to tell the others as they already see him as incompetent. The memory tickles your heart and you start to shake your head definitively, “No, I am shocked, look!” you say, bringing up your shaky hands to his eye level, a feeble attempt to convince Sunghoon.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you question how I moved from my bedroom to the library without you carting me around in that fuck awful wheelchair?” Sunghoon queries, raising his eyebrow in mock suspicion. He knows you know, he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

“No, I…I just thought…I was…”

“You are a terrible liar, Y/N,” he scoffs out an endeared laugh and pushes your hand away from his face, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as Sunghoon’s stare holds you captive, those beautiful glass eyes slowly dissolving your loyalty to Jaeyun. You are trying so hard to come up with an excuse as to how you know their secret but the doll before you is so alluring in his beauty that your brain might as well be replaced with a tin of mushy peas.

He licks his bottom lip and starts to laugh as your silence becomes his confirmation. 

“Shit,” you huff out, looking down, feeling bad for betraying Jaeyun like this. One tiny secret was all you had to keep and you’ve given it up without even uttering a word. Fuck these dolls and their power over your resolve.

Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “He really can’t keep his mouth shut,” he says to himself quietly, astonished that he even had any faith in the yapping puppy to begin with.

Your back goes up, eyebrows knitting together, “Hey! Don’t blame him like that,” you say defensively.

He halts his laughter and slowly looks at you, tilting his head, “Oh?...oh…” he mutters, a wide smile of bewilderment appearing on his face as he starts to piece you and Jaeyun’s relationship together, “How on earth did he manage to pull you? Did he give you a bat of his lashes and that signature pout? Did he make his eyes do that stupid sparkle? Hmm?”

You're taken aback by Sunghoon's accurate description, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring your expression. How did he know exactly what Jaeyun had done to win you over? Does Jaeyun do this with every housesitter?

Sunghoon watches your reaction with amusement, his grin widening as he sees the realisation dawn on you. "Ah, I see it now," he says, his voice tinged with playful mockery, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? You know, he isn’t as innocent as he looks, he knows what he is doing."

You shift from one foot to another, looking down at your hands. It’s embarrassing for any woman to be hit with the truck of truth, especially when it’s about succumbing to a man, but a doll? That’s even more humbling. 

Lifting your chin, he gives you a smug smile as he sees inside your mind, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed, baby girl, Soonyeol is the same. She loves it - to look after him, coddle him whenever he wants, and give him kisses in passing,”  he leans down to make direct eye contact with you, a flash of something behind his iris’ brings you to attention as he continues, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, that you have fun?”

You feel yourself nodding because he’s right. Inside of yourself, you knew Jaeyun was luring you into bed but you wanted it just as much as him, so did you really get played? And you enjoy his company, his constant telling of stories and his high energy, you’ve grown to cherish him with each passing conversation. 

Sunghoon observes the gears turning in your mind. "Can I tell you something?" he asks, his lips whispering over your cheek. You nod, permitting him to continue, your eyes fixed on his as he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "He's been unusually happy since you arrived," he murmurs softly, "I think you might be his new favourite person."

His admission causes a warm flush to spread across your cheeks, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding your senses. Knowing that Jaeyun feels a similar connection to you fills you with a sense of happiness and validation. You can envision Jaeyun becoming a lifelong friend, someone you cherish deeply.

While his initial intent might have been to charm you into fucking him, the time you've spent together since then feels genuine and sincere. You take comfort in knowing that Jaeyun values your companionship and enjoys your presence for more than just physical intimacy.

Sunghoon inhales sharply through his teeth, a disapproving tsk escaping him, "I don't think Soonyeol would be too pleased about that," he remarks, pulling back slightly as if considering the ramifications. "After all, Jaeyun is her favourite, and if she were to discover you've been fucking her precious little puppy..."

Your eyes widen in alarm as you grasp the implication of his words, shaking your head frantically as you instinctively raise your hands in a defensive gesture, "No, no, no, you can't tell her!" you exclaim, your voice tinged with desperation. You find yourself on the verge of pleading, almost dropping to your knees in a last-ditch effort to appeal to Sunghoon's mercy, "I need this job," you implore, your voice trembling with anxiety.

Sunghoon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he watches your panic-stricken reaction. "Well, I suppose I could keep my mouth shut..." he muses, drawing out the suspense and relishing in your apprehension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hang on to his words, hope flickering within you at the possibility of him relenting. But just as quickly as your hope appears, it’s gone as you see the dark shimmer in his eyes behind his glasses, the way his tongue is sitting on the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

“You can’t be serious? You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?” you retort, the revulsion evident in your tone.

"I'm not a creep, Y/N, I wouldn't do that," Sunghoon responds, a hint of offence lacing his words. As you meet his gaze, you feel a pang of regret for assuming the worst about him. But he lowers his voice, his eyes hooded as they lock onto yours. "I'd only fuck you if you wanted me to," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, a nervous habit forming as you bite your lip.

Sunghoon's hands find their way to your waist, drawing you closer until he’s pressed firmly against you. His nearness is intoxicating, and you can't help but tip-toe to etch closer to his face, craving more of his presence. His lips hover tantalisingly close to yours, teasing you with the promise of something more.

"Oh? Would you like that?" he asks smugly, his grip on your waist tightening as he effortlessly makes you melt under his touch, succumbing to him like putty in his hands. It's crazy how much power these dolls possess over you, their allure is irresistible and their influence undeniable.

His smug expression only adds to the internal chaos, making you feel both irritated and strangely drawn to him. You want this more than you would like to admit, perhaps it was the comfort he was bringing to you after your ordeal with the door, or maybe it’s because you’re an idiot that simply wants to fuck him.

Sometimes there is no other reason than pure lust.

Sunghoon's grin widens as he sees you surrender to him, his fingers dancing on your waist as he leans in even closer, closing the already minimal gap between your lips and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips brush against yours in a teasingly soft caress. It's a fleeting touch, but it ignites a fire within you, awakening something.

You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are in this moment, how easily Sunghoon has managed to unravel your defences and ensnare you in his web of temptation. He is doing exactly what Jaeyun did to you last week, and just the same, you’re letting him because you want it.

"Tell me to stop," Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. His hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the contours of your sides with a feather-light touch that sends tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

It's a cruel temptation, the way he places the power in your hands, knowing full well that you won't utter that simple word; not when every caress feels like fire against your shivering skin.

Instead, you close the gap, your mouth melding against his as your once shaky hands now thread through his hair, pulling him further into you. You can feel his victorious smile against your lips as he guides you to sit on the very desk you were snooping around earlier, pressing your ass against the edge.

He briskly undoes your jean buttons, his lips planting one long kiss on yours before he sinks past your tits and stomach until he is on his knees in front of your pussy. Teasingly, he pulls down your bottoms, slowly but surely exposing your dampened core to him.

“There you are,” he mutters, placing a gentle peck on your pubic bone, his lips lingering there as he savours the moment. He looks up at you behind his glasses and smirks as he sees your chest rising and falling in anticipation, “I’ll make sure you feel good, baby girl, don’t worry.”

His smirk widens as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he trails kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, calculated to elicit a response from you, and you can't help but arch your back in anticipation, silently urging him to continue.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sunghoon grants your unspoken desires, his tongue delicately tracing the beginning of your slit. He flattens it against your tender flesh, savouring the taste of you as he lingers there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of your essence. 

You grind your hips onto his face and before you know it, you’re riding his face, using your hips to move your clit along his rigid tongue. Your fingers desperately seek to find refuge on a surface to steady you, which they find in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp to help anchor you.

Sunghoon is loving it as much as you are, the smile on his face is a testament to this. He pries your legs further apart to sink his mouth further into your heat, the tip of his wet muscle now working in tandem with your hips to help you out.

"F-fuck," you moan breathlessly, your body arching instinctively towards him as he spreads your folds between the fingers of his right hand. Anticipation courses through your veins as he teases you with soft, long licks, each stroke of his tongue sending waves cascading through your body.

You're consumed by both pleasure and longing, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every lingering, deliberate swipe of his tongue against your clit makes it throb with need, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, yearning for more.

You want him to go faster, to get you to the edge quickly so he can fuck you against this desk, but at the same time, you're intoxicated by the slow, deliberate pace of his movements. He’s so good at this it’s almost awe-inspiring. 

Sunghoon's long fingers stroke up and down your folds with a delicate touch, savouring the sight of you spread open before him. But he needs more, he wants to see you completely exposed and at his mercy. With a determined gaze, he shifts your legs over his shoulders, positioning you firmly on the edge of the wooden desk.

"Your pussy is the closest to heaven I'll ever get," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your needy expression. Your whimper for attention to your clit only fuels his desire further, "I want to make you beg so bad, baby girl," he adds, his voice dripping with need, "but I don't want to wait to see what it feels like to have you cumming on my tongue."

The plea escapes your lips before you can stop it, your desire overriding any sense of restraint, "Please, Sunghoon," you moan, your hips instinctively thrusting towards him, begging for his touch.

He can't resist the temptation any longer. With a hunger that borders on desperation, Sunghoon spreads your folds open once again, his gaze fixated on you in this new position. He licks his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening wetness.

His tongue flicks over your hood, teasing your clit with quick, back-and-forth strokes that send electric shocks through your veins. You writhe beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch as he expertly pushes you to the edge. 

Sunghoon’s glasses steam up as he switches between licking and sucking your clit, drawing out moans of pleasure from both of you. There is nothing he loves more than eating pussy, the feeling of someone’s sweetness on his tongue is the best feeling he’ll ever know, he could spend hours just worshipping each and every cunt on the planet.

But he knew from the moment you walked in, that he had to have just one taste of you.

“Sunghoon, fuck,” you moan through bated breaths, holding his head hostage between your legs - not that he minds, the desperation your exhibiting only heightens his desire to consume every part of you, to make you unravel under his touch.

Your back presses against the desk, the crumpled documents from Soonyeol's work forgotten beneath your squirming body. In this moment, nothing matters except the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

Sensing that you're on the brink of orgasm, Sunghoon dips two of his fingers into your warm, inviting heat, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, Sunghoon, yes," you scream, your voice filled with desperation and hunger as his fingers join his mouth to drive you wild. You're teetering on the verge of bliss, your body twitching with anticipation as he deftly guides you to the peaks of pleasure.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let go for me..."

As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, you cry out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Sunghoon watches you with a satisfied smile, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes. His fingers never let up, continuing to pump in and out of you as your climax washes over you, coating his hand and even spurting onto his face.

Standing up, Sunghoon keeps his digits buried deep inside you, still wriggling them around as he leans over your spent body on the desk. "If this is you with just my mouth and fingers," he says, pausing to give you a sweet kiss, "then just imagine you on my cock."

His words send a shiver of want down your spine, and you can't help but imagine the feeling of him buried deep inside you, filling you completely. The thought alone is enough to reignite the fire of desire within you, and you find yourself yearning for more of him, for the pleasure only he can provide.

Withdrawing his fingers from you, he brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your cum. The sight has you gasping, wishing his mouth was back on you, using that tongue just one more time. Sunghoon sees the need in your eyes and smiles cockily.

"You want a taste?" he asks, already offering his fingers to your parted lips. You eagerly accept, sucking and licking them clean, savouring the lingering taste of yourself on his skin. "You taste unreal, right?" he remarks, his voice husky with desire.

You nod, popping your mouth off his fingers, "How can you taste me if you've got no taste buds?" you ask, genuinely curious. There's still so much you don't know about these dolls, and each revelation only adds to your intrigue.

"Ah, we're all different makes. Some have functions others don't," Sunghoon explains as he begins to undress, leaving him in only his boxers and glasses.

"So you can taste? What can the others do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

"You bored of me already, baby girl?" he teases, deflecting your question with a smirk. His hands grip the bottom of your t-shirt, and with a swift motion, he lifts it over your head, leaving you exposed and vulnerable on the desk, "The real question you should be asking is what else I can do."

You lie naked before him, anticipation palpable in your expression as you look him up and down, suddenly intrigued by the possibilities. "What can you do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, eager to discover the depths of pleasure he can offer.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

He pushes his boxers down, revealing his throbbing arousal. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, his length throbbing in his hands. Each time he pumps, the pulsing of the fake veins quickens. He presses his cock against your folds and you feel the pulse.

"Do you feel it?" Sunghoon asks, already knowing the answer as he watches you involuntarily move your hips, seeking more of the delicious friction his cock provides.

You nod eagerly, your desire mounting with each passing moment. The anticipation of what's to come sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you can't help but yearn for more of him.

You understand Soonyeol a lot more now.

Slowly, Sunghoon guides himself to your entrance to let you feel the throbbing more intensely as he begins to push inside you. The sensation is electrifying, sending your body into a flush as he fills you completely with his length.

Imagine if every man possessed this kind of touch; maybe, just maybe, there'd be less reason to complain. It's like slipping into a dream, feeling his hands explore every inch of you as he eases into a gentle rhythm of thrusting.

You find yourself lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His movements synchronise with the rhythm of your heartbeat, building a crescendo of desire.

You can't help but draw comparisons to Jaeyun, though you don't mean to. Their approaches to pleasing you are starkly different. Jaeyun is fervent and eager, consumed by his own need for you. His passion is raw and primal, leaving you breathless and craving more, even as you revel in the intensity of his desire.

In contrast, Sunghoon's touch is confident and measured. Each thrust is a masterpiece of skill and intention, as if his sole purpose is to ensure you experience the pinnacle of pleasure. There's a depth to his movements, leaving you utterly captivated by the artistry of his fucking. He was born to do this.

Once he senses your body yielding to him, growing accustomed to the girth of his cock, he presses his hand firmly against your lower stomach, anchoring you to the desk as he intensifies his rhythm. His muscles tense with each powerful thrust, driving deeper into you with a primal urgency.

"God, you're tight," he remarks, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, "Are you sure Jaeyun's been fucking you?" he teases, his voice laced with playful arrogance as he revels in the control he holds over your pleasure.

As Sunghoon's words cut through the haze of pleasure, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite the lust coursing through you, his casual dismissal of Jaeyun stirs conflicting emotions within you. Jaeyun may not be perfect, but he holds a place in your heart that you can't deny.

"I... I don't like when you talk about him like that," you manage to say between breaths, your voice wavering slightly. 

But that only makes him pound into you deeper as you cry out. Your hands reach for his arm as you grip it tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucks you with an intensity like never before.

Sunghoon's response is a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he drives into you with an almost punishing force, "You don't want me talking about your little puppy?" he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of lust and disdain. The sound of the drawers rattling beneath you only adds to the chaotic symphony of pleasure and pain enveloping you.

Your head swims with conflicting desires, torn between the familiar comfort of Jaeyun's touch and the intoxicating thrill of Sunghoon's dominance. And as his thumb finds its way to your clit, sending bolts of ecstasy shooting through your body, you can't help but succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, surrendering yourself completely to the man who's determined to claim you as his own.

"I hit a nerve, huh?" Sunghoon's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and triumph lacing his words as he continues to tease your sensitive clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You try to form a coherent response, but all that escapes your lips are desperate moans and gasps as Sunghoon's relentless assault pushes you closer to the edge. Sensations overwhelm your senses, leaving you trembling and breathless in his grasp.

"What's the matter, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice drips with mock concern, his tone betraying his underlying satisfaction, "Did I touch a sore spot because you know I’m right? That pup could never fuck you this good, just admit it." His thumb circles your clit once more, sending a bolt of lightning up your body.

You bite back a whimper, your mind clouded with a mixture of arousal and frustration. The realisation dawns on you that you're caught in the middle of a rivalry, a competition between two men, each determined to outdo the other.

But amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, one thing becomes clear - in this moment, there is only Sunghoon, his touch, his dominance, consuming you completely.

As Sunghoon redoubles his efforts, fucking into you so good you think you might struggle to walk for a week, you find yourself surrendering to him; but as long as you’re getting fucked like this, who cares?

"Sunghoon," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice pleading yet smothered with arousal, "Please..."

He pauses, his movements slowing as he looks down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Please what, Y/N?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement, "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically, unable to form a coherent response, "No," you whimper, your fingers clutching at the edge of the desk for support, "Fuck...don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon's face as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "That's what I thought, baby girl.” He kisses you messily, his fingers circling your sensitive bud as he continues his pace.

Sunghoon's eyes latch on yours, a knowing grin on his lips as he awaits your release. The air crackles with eagerness, "You're almost there, aren't you, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice is deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his words stoke the fire inside you, "Just a little more..."

His words propel you over the brink, sending you spinning into oblivion as waves of ecstasy rush over you. You yell out his name, your body quivering with the intensity of your release as you surrender totally to the euphoria surging through you.

Sunghoon stares at you with dark, hungry eyes, his own release near as he continues to push into you with unwavering passion. He turns his thrusts from rapid to sharp, the vibration excruciating with each punch of the tip of his cock to your linings. He is so smug as you knock the lamp off the table by accident, too busy trying to escape the overstimulation you’re pussy is experiencing, but he holds you still.

"Give me just one more minute, baby girl, you can handle it, right?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire, eliciting a groan from you. He's moving with the intensity of an animal, overwhelming yet fucking satisfying.

His glasses teeter on the edge of his nose, moving by the force of his thrusts. With a swift motion, you snatch them from his face, placing them on your own and viewing him through a new lens. He's breathtakingly beautiful, with or without the glasses, but especially in this moment.

"Please, Hoonie, cum inside me," you plead, pushing the glasses to the tip of your nose. As Sunghoon takes in the sight of you, combined with your newfound nickname for him, he loses all semblance of control.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his release coating your insides as some spills onto the desk below. The vibrations from his cock cease, and he remains still inside you, his face buried in your neck as he trembles with the intensity of his climax.

Sunghoon's trembling subsides as he lifts his head from your neck, his eyes locking with yours in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, "You're incredible, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence, “I can’t let him have you to himself,” he admits, a smirk playing on his face.

You return his smile, your chest still heaving and your body buzzing with the aftermath of your shared passion. "He did mention that Soonyeol shares you all," you point out, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunghoon nods, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of damp hair away from your face. "True, but she doesn't exactly fuck us every day," he confesses, his voice low and husky with desire, mischief evident in his expression.

"We don't have to..." you begin, but Sunghoon cuts you off with a determined look.

"You're fucking mad if you think for a second I'm going to let any opportunity to have you slip away," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll take you whenever and wherever I can, Y/N. That's a promise."

“Am I going to have to sort out a rota?” you joke, giggling as you begin to sit up, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop.

Taking a tissue from the box laid on the desk, he wipes you down, something Jaeyun doesn’t do at all. But Jaeyun does cuddle which is something you can’t imagine Sunghoon doing. 

As he tosses the tissue into the waste basket and begins to get dressed, you watch him with a mixture of affection and anticipation. "Put me on the first shift tomorrow, yeah?" he requests, his voice tinged with eagerness.

You nod with a smile, already looking forward to the next time you'll be together. "Consider it done," you agree, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

You hop off the desk and begin to put your clothes back on, satisfaction courses through your body, yet your mind remains unsettled. There’s one lingering question you hope Sunghoon can answer before he retreats back to his room.

“Hey, Hoonie?” you shout before he reaches the door to exit. He turns around and looks at you expectantly, “What’s behind that door?” It’s a loaded question but one you need answers. No amount of fucking can make you forget that spine-curling red light.

Sunghoon sighs, his steps retracing back to where you stand, his hands reaching for your face. You wonder what he's up to until you feel him peel off his glasses, giving them a quick clean before settling them back on his nose.

“Do me a favour?” he asks, his tone carrying a weight you can't ignore. You nod, hoping he'll grant your request for insight into the mystery beyond that door.

“I won’t tell Soonyeol about you fucking us if you agree to stop sticking your nose into matters that don't concern you, understood?” his words sting, his stare unwavering as he awaits your response. Whatever lies behind that door is a sensitive topic, only fueling your curiosity further.

There’s no denying you need this job though, so with a reluctant sigh, you nod in agreement, accepting the terms of his proposal, "Okay, Hoonie," you concede, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders, "You have a deal."

Sunghoon's lips curve into a small smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his eyes. "Good," he replies, his voice softening with approval. "Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? Jaeyun doesn’t even know and if Heeseung catches a whiff that you know about that thing, he will kill you before you can even attempt to find a key.”

His warning sits like vomit in your throat at the mention of Heeseung, the most mysterious one of them all. You don’t know enough about the cherry-haired doll to debunk whether Sunghoon is joking or not.

You offer him a solemn nod, a silent promise to uphold your end of the bargain. But what he doesn’t know is that as he leaves, you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #park sunghoon smut #enhypen fic #enha fic #; tdh #aj writes

[dungeonpuppykai]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

#ask kai #anon love #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier #winter soldier smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky smut #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n

[yoyokalicent]

soon you will be mine, oh, but i want you now.

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

summary: you're felix's favorite girl, you had been since you were young. what happens when you're all he needs?

warnings: cursing, mentions of fucking and alcohol, felix is a freak and in love with his best friend.

a/n: this little fic is based off fallingforyou by the 1975 bc its arguably one of their most heartbreakingly good songs so!! (lyrics in bold)

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i'm so excited for the night all we need's my bike and your enormous house

the strobe lights were almost blinding as you search the large house for felix. felix, who all but got on his knees to beg you to accompany him to the house party you now wander around aimlessly.

"princess!" you barely hear felix over the booming sound of music being pumped through every speaker in the house, "lost you for a minute there, you ok?"

his hand finds yours immediately walking with you toward the sliding glass doors, "just need some air, fi."

"me too, i'll go with you." i'll go anywhere with you, he means.

his hand leaves yours and felix can't help the bout of disappointment he feels in the pit of his stomach, wishing he could hold your hand just a little longer.

felix watches you intently as you open the door with the hand that not long ago was occupied his own, and once the door is open enough for you to exit your hand slots right into his own.

"do you have a cig?" what a stupid question, you see he has a full pack in his back pocket, you don't know is that he wants to share one with you, to see the red smudges of your lipstick around the end of it before he takes a drag of his own.

"f'course." you rake your hands through your black handbag, the handbag he purchased for you while his family was on holiday in paris. once you pull out your worn pack of cigarettes you follow up with your light pink lighter, "hm?"

it was your signal for him to light it for you, he takes the lighter out of your hands and cups a hand around your lips, lighting the cigarette for you. maybe its the drinks, the cups of liquor you had poured for him making his head spin, or maybe it was you, the thought of you being his one day. just one day, but he wants you now.

after your long drag you pass the cigarette to him, blowing out the smoke and looking out toward the backyard where friends were dancing, and lovers were making out in the dark corner by the trees.

"i've always loved nights like this, its so easy." you say, reaching your hand back out for the cigarette.

"me too, fun." he responds, as you flick the ends of the cigarette and watch the ashes fall onto the concrete, "always have fun with you, princess."

the nickname fell from his lips easily, something he had called you since you were a princess on halloween in grade school, never failing to pick on you for it.

"wanna get out of here?" felix asks looking for your confirmation, just wanting to be alone with you, not having to deal with farleigh's knowing glare.

"i do, fi. walk me back?" another stupid question, but this time coming from you, "or am i staying with you?"

"you'll stay with me, princess."

i'm caught on your coat again you said, "oh no, it's fine"

the weather in oxford was completely contradictory to felix's mood. the grey sky with icy winds had no comparison for the light reflecting from his smile. he was sat in some dingy diner (somewhere that only you could get him to step foot into) waiting for the check with you beside him.

he completely rejected your idea of sitting across from him, arguing that, "i haven't seen you in ages, why would i want you to be anywhere but my side?"

your lips were wrapped around the straw of the strawberry milkshake you swore you needed, shamefully felix can't help but think about your lips. the way they break into a smile, the way they sing your favorite songs, the way they'd look wrapped around him.

you're his best friend for goodness sake.

"fi?"

fuck the thinks, "princess."

"do you think we could go to the corner store? i wanted to get those crisps you like. i've been wanting them since the other night." you ask him with hesitation, as if he has ever denied you anything, as if he ever could.

"yep," felix pops his p, mirroring something you had always done, "quite a walk, sure you want to in the cold?"

you take one last sip of your milkshake before responding, "i've got you to keep me warm, don't think that's enough?" he wraps his arm around you to pull you closer to him.

his silence is telling, for as long as you had known him he was never one for comfortable silence. but, with you he could sit for hours without talking, just to be with you.

once the check is payed, by felix, you are bouncing out of your seat, forgetting the jacket that was resting by the end of your back.

"forgetting something?" he holds the jacket up, opening it for your arms to slip into effortlessly.

before your hands have the chance to zip up your jacket his are working at the zipper, toward the middle of the jacket the zipper stops.

"huh?" he says, trying to find where it went wrong.

his mind is racing as he tries to find the flaw in your jacket, when he finds the culprit it almost warms his heart. the fringes of his own jacket were caught in the teeth of your own. a piece of himself was caught in a piece of you.

"sorry bout that, princess."

"oh, no s'fine." without hesitation he zips your jacket all of the way, not wanting to risk you catching a cold. going as far as to giving you his own scarf and putting your hood up for you.

"and what would i do without you?" you ask, hooking your arm in his own and resting your cheek on his bicep as you walk down the street.

"freeze, and possibly have to buy your own food."

feeling of your arms i don't want to be your friend, i want to kiss your neck

felix loved the feeling of your bed. the soft linens your mother had sent from southern italy, the fluffy blankets, firm pillows, the feeling of your arms wrapped around his waist with your head lodged between his shoulder blades.

he loved it, right now, he longed for it.

farleigh was next to him talking to some guy at the pub and all he could think about is what you were doing. felix truly tried his hardest to get you to go with them to the pub, but you swore up and down tonight was your night for rest and relaxation.

stupidly, so stupidly, felix thought he would have more fun at the pub entertaining girls he'd never go home with instead of entertaining you.

"wanna get out of here?" a girl asks, pawing at his chest. all he can do his feign disgust, why would he want to leave with anyone but you?

"no," he responds, and sees the look on her face drop, "thanks" his words are slurred and all he can do is think to count the drinks he's had. the liquor really has affected him, usually he has you mooching off of whatever he has in his cup.

but, not tonight.

"farleigh, i need to go." felix pats farleigh on the shoulder, signaling his leave of absence.

"tell princess i said hi." farleigh responds, mocking his nickname for you, and felix can only open and close his mouth with a nod. felix starts his walk out of the bar with a slight wave to farleigh.

the walk to your dorm was quick, and his legs moved in a brisk walk, quickly starting to border a jog. wanting to get to you, get into your shower, get into your bed as quick as possible.

he dodges groups of partygoers and their judgmental glares skillfully, if they knew what he was running to he's sure they wouldn't be looking at him the way they were.

he arrives at your dormitory and ditches the stuffy elevator that would take too long, he doesn't have time for waiting. his legs move up the stairs, slower this time. almost savoring in the excitement of seeing you.

the many cups have him thinking, what if he told you now? he waits in front of your door, waiting. not knocking, just thinking. thinking about happy he could make you. thinking about what he could do for you, what you could do for him.

just before his mind could catch up with his movements he's knocking on the door. reeling in what he could say to you, and then you open the door.

your hair is in your rollers, and your body is drowning in your light yellow nightgown. ignoring all signs of sleepiness you smile, "felix?"

"i do not want to be your mate." your smile immediately drops, and your eyes open wide, suddenly he wants to jump down the flight of steps he had just climbed.

"what the fuck, felix?"

"no, no, no, princess, not like that." his large hands take your face into them, so tightly that your cheeks are smushed together, not to hurt you, never to hurt you.

"then how felix? you come to me in the middle of night to tell me what?" your words are slurred to the grip he has on his face.

you can smell the whiskey radiating off of him, making this all the more confusing, his hands fall from your face to his sides, "i don't want to be your friend." he takes breath, a deep breath, "i wanna kiss your neck"

"huh?" you ask again, slowly getting at what he means, but needing him to say it. say what you had been thinking for the last year.

"there was a girl at the bar, and she wasn't ugly. at all. she wanted to go home with me-"

you cut him off, "felix."

"sorry. but, i didn't want to go with her, all i thought about was you. coming home to you, maybe even kissing you, hugging you, fucking yo-"

you cut him off again, "felix."

"i just-"

"you what, felix?"

"i really love you. i love you so much i only think of you, i only think about you so much i can't hear a song without thinking about you. i love you so much i've started to lose my mind! i love you so much, princess." his lips smash into yours, and you taste him. the whiskey, the mint lip balm, the cigarettes, you taste him.

you kiss him until his hands start to trail toward the end of your night gown, "can't give the neighbors a free show, fi."

"can't have them seeing what's mine."

your eyebrows raise teasingly, "yours?"

"you're mine princess, finally."

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fanfiction #felix catton fluff #felix catton imagines #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #saltburn #saltburn fanfction #saltburn 2023

[jobean12-blog]

Aftermath

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 2,318

Summary: Bucky has kept you safe for as long as he's had you but the first time you don't follow his orders is definitey going to be the last.

Author's Note: These new pics are giving lots of mob/mafia vibes and I love it! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some angst in the beginning and illusions to violence, mentions of a gun, Bucky is soft and there are lots of fluffy moments but he's pissed you didn't listen and he needs you.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, sighing heavily when Nat doesn’t pick up the phone. She only called you two minutes ago. Right after she sent you a text telling you she needed to talk. Under any other circumstances you would never leave your perch at the bar. Never leave the safety of Bucky’s club and go against his orders.

However, your best friend needs you. She just had a bad break up and things are still rocky so any time she calls you were sure to be there for her. So here you are, standing on the sidewalk outside Bucky’s nightclub, phone pressed to your ear and your foot tapping rapidly against the concrete.

Bucky told you about the heavy tension building between him and a rival boss trying to impede on his territory. He told you that your safety was his first priority. That’s why you were with him at his club right now. He didn’t want you out of his sight.

But you were only just right outside the door…

You’ll try Nat one more time then go back inside and wait for Bucky like he asked.

The phone starts ringing and you hold your breath, hoping she’ll answer. Just as you hear her voice on the other end a car pulls up at the curb and with one glance the occupants have you swiftly turning on your heel and heading back toward the doors of the club.

“Nat,” you say quietly. “Are you ok?”

“I’m having a rough night,” she sighs. “I need your opinion on something.”

“Of course.”

You’re walking at a brisk clip, realizing that during your musings you had wandered farther from the door than you intended to.

Nat is still talking but the sound of your blood rushing through your ears starts to drown out any other sounds.

Four men get out of the car, none of which you recognize. You need to get inside quickly. One of them, carrying a baseball bat, twirls it lazily in his hand as he saunters closer, looking you over appreciatively.

Apprehension shoots up your spine, intuition guaranteeing that they’re here to start trouble.

“Nat I have to go. Call Bucky.”

She starts to reply but you hang up before she can, hoping she heard the trepidation in your voice and does as you asked.

Before you can reach the entrance, two of them lunge in front of you and block your progress.

“Where are you goin’ so fast beautiful?” One of the men asks.

“Excuse me,” you say.

A third man circles up behind you.

“Let me by,” you tell them.

The man holding the baseball bat ignores you.

“You belong to Barnes don’t you?”

Your suspicions are right. These are bad men and they are definitely looking to cause some trouble for your husband. And you.

You shrink back on purpose, appealing to their inflated arrogance and hoping they will underestimate you.

“Please. Just let me go.”

The man with the bat laughs as he runs the coarse wood along your bare calf.

“Think your man will miss you?”

Before the bat reaches your thigh you smack it away. Even though the attempt is most likely useless you’re hoping to pass more time. One of the men behind you snakes a hand around your elbow and yanks you toward him.

“Get in the fucking car baby,” he sneers. “It’s for your own good.”

The fourth man, still in the car, pushes open the back door and lets out a whistle.

“Come on gorgeous. I’ll keep you warm for Barnes.”

You take a deep breath as they propel you toward the car and only put up a small amount of resistance. As soon as you sense they are under the false impression that you’re coming willingly, the hand on your elbow weakens and you act.

With sharp and quick movements you reach for the baseball bat now dangling loosely from the leader’s hands and grab it, swinging it in a large arc to buy yourself some room.

Two of the men jump back, having been caught off guard, but it connects with the leader’s rib cage and he let’s out a vile curse, falling to his knees.

You back up as the other two men approach. Unfortunately, it’s in the direction away from the doors.

“He should have locked this one up,” the man closest to you laughs. “She’s full of fire.”

“And I’m going to enjoy that,” he leader says as he stands, still holding his ribs.

You bring the bat down hard as he lunges for you, but he dodges the weapon and barrels himself closer until he can wrap a strong arm around your waist.

The bat is ripped from your hands and your back is plastered against the man’s chest, his hand creeping up between your breasts to wrap around your throat.

He squeezes hard, tight enough to cut of your air and reflectively your fingers claw and try to pry his hand away.

You try to focus, getting ready to go limp and convince him you’re out cold, so you can somehow disable him.

Just as you’re about to put your plan into action the front door of the club flies open, hitting the side of the brick building with enough force to crack the metal.

Through your dimming eyesight, you can make out several men, including Bucky, before his ferocious growl of denial echoes through the air around you.

It startles the man choking you enough that he eases up on the pressure, allowing you to suck in precious oxygen.

Guns are drawn just before your knees hit the concrete and your stomach twists with renewed fear.

“Bucky,” you whisper, getting to your feet and stepping closer to him.

His haunted gaze makes you swallow hard and you can see the emotional battle written all over his handsome features. With his long finger poised on the trigger, he clearly wants to end the man who had his hands on you.

Without a word he tears his attention away from you, indicting your captor with a nod of his head.

“Steve.”

Steve, his own gun held in a tight grasp, moves in front of Bucky and toward the other man.

“He doesn’t go anywhere,” Bucky seethes.

The other two men from the rival group, still outside of the car, lower their weapons, watching with no emotion as Steve wrestles their leader to the ground with the gun to his head.

Finally, they let out a string of curses and hop back into the car, leaving their ‘friend’ behind as they peel away from the curb.

Bucky motions to Clint and Sam. “Follow them. This ends tonight.”

As Clint and Sam rush off to follow Bucky’s order he slowly saunters forward, the open collar of his shirt blowing wider in the light breeze.

He picks up the bat with a nonchalance that contradicts the tightness of his body and swings it deftly in his metal hand. When his fingers close around the handle you hear the wood crack under the pressure.

Bucky comes to a stop directly over the left-behind leader, and his gaze meets yours for a brief, heavy second, before he raises the bat high and brings it down with enough force to make you gasp.

Your heart races out of control, breathing shallow in your ears. The bat connects with the sidewalk next to the man’s head, sending shards of wood in every direction.

Your relief is short lived.

Bucky crouches down and looks the cowering man straight in his eyes.

“You. Are a dead man.”

Slowly and purposefully he rises to his feet and holds his hand out for you. You swallow the hard lump in your throat and place your fingers in his. In a split second you’re swept into his arms and tugged against his hard chest.

He drags you toward his car and tucks you into the passenger seat, buckling your belt and then slamming the door shut.

Through the closed window you can still hear him shout to Steve. “You know where to take him. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The silence stretches long and thin through the car and you can almost feel Bucky’s rage. You open your mouth to speak but promptly shut it when you hear his huff of warning.

He hates the feeling of fear so instead he welcomes the anger, focusing on it, wishing it’s enough to block out the image of you being choked, your feet scraping at the ground and hands clawing at your neck.

If he dwells on it too long his whole word will collapse and he has to get you home. To safety.

At the reminder of what he saw as he walked out of the club, his grip tightens on the leather steering wheel, almost making the car swerve.

When he pulls up in front of your house he checks his surroundings before driving in through the gated driveway. He looks to you, a silent demand to wait, before he gets out of the car and does another sweep of the area.

Once he deems it safe he opens your door and helps you out of the car.

When you’re safely inside the house he leaves you standing just inside the door, inside the large and opulent foyer, as he flies around the nearby rooms and checks every window and lock.

Your gaze follows him the entire time, trying desperately to draw him in and away from the rage. He staunchly defies it and after he feels satisfied the house is safe he takes you by the arm and leads you toward your shared master bedroom.

He walks to the nightstand and opens the drawer, reaching deep into the back to retrieve a gun.

“Bucky, please. Will you just talk to me?”

He can feel you standing close.

“You will stay in this room, with the door locked, until I come back. Anyone tries to get in that isn’t me, you shoot them. Understand?”

When your silence becomes too much he turns to you, keeping his eyes steady as he pleads.

“Tell me you’ll listen. That you understand.”

You take a deep inhale but still don’t speak.

“I’m waiting for my answer doll.”

You move closer and everything inside him tenses up.

“Don’t,” you whisper.

You lay a hand on his chest, immediately making him tremble from head to toe. His eyes close defensively as your hand moves higher and sneaks under the open buttons of his shirt then to his neck and finally into his hair.

Your lips press to his neck.

“Please Bucky. Don’t leave me. Stay.”

He shakes his head, unable to speak and it only makes you drag your lips higher, along his jaw until they hover just above his mouth.

A groan leaves his parted lips before he can stop it.

“I’m scared. I need you.”

Your lips brush over his, once, twice. The hand in his hair runs smoothly along the back of his neck and then coasts over his broad shoulder and down his chest.

“I have to go doll.”

His words are gritted and tortured before his name leaves your lips in a soft whisper.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“You know where I’m goin.’ Don’t make me say it.”

When he notices the glossiness of your eyes it strips him bare and he falls back a step, ready to fall to his knees for you.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

He’s shouting now.

“If I hadn’t gotten to you in time? One minute later, baby. One fucking minute!”

Your fingers tremble as you reach for him.

“I know, I…”

“You would have been gone. How can you expect me to survive that.”

He breaks off, not able to put the horrifying thought into more words.

“Fuck. I’m so mad at you doll. So mad. But all I can think about is how I need to be inside you. Need to feel you wrapped around me. Feel you everywhere.”

You tightly grasp the lapel of his jacket and drag him closer. He comes easily. Willingly.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just thought I’d be outside for a second. Nat needed me…I never thought…”

Every word you speak continues to topple the reinforced barrier of anger he’s built. The only thing keeping it standing is that there’s still some physical space between you both.

But then you take a step closer and curl your fingers in the hem of your dress to draw it up over your head, the whole time letting your knuckles and hands brush along his heaving chest and every ounce of his self-control vanishes.

His heated gaze rakes over you and his hands fist at his sides.

You press yourself against him and deliberately untuck his shirt, slipping your hands underneath the lush fabric and running your fingernails up his rigid stomach. His muscles contract beneath your fingers.

“I need you baby doll. So badly.”

You unhook your bra and drop it to the floor, tingles racing over your skin as his jaw grinds with his devouring stare. You lower your hand to palm and squeeze his straining arousal.

“You can have me now Bucky. Now and always.”

His expression softens long enough for you to catch the brightness in his eyes and then his mouth is on yours, his hands frenzied as they grasp and smooth over every inch of your bare skin. He never breaks the kiss as he walks you backward toward the bed, letting you gently fall to the soft mattress before he settles himself between your spread legs.

“I can’t touch all of you at once and it drives me crazy,” he whispers against your lips as his hand slides down between your legs. “I need everything, always.”

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @lizette50 @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #mob au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader