#“the point of X is Y” yeah see that's one of the beliefs to make the stay a bit more bearable to you

[sharlmbracta]

ok depression warning cw depression or something but am i the only one who feels like the world will die out by the time i become 30 or before that

[thelastofhyde]

you cut your hair, and take some space (2)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 2 of 3! (part 1)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation ( please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries ), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, policeofficer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), pedro-ception aka there's a small cameo of another pedro boy, vomiting, mentions of pregnancy, reader is described to have hair and celebrates christmas ( but no mention of the reader's religious beliefs )! smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 14.3k

hyde’s input. hey... hey... how y'all doin'?🧍remember when i said part 2 would be posted a few weeks after part 1? yeah, that was a fucking lie. and, remember when i said it would be 2 parts in total? that was also a lie! the universe is praying on my downfall ( i had a fun mental health episode and fell into a black hole for a few months <3 ) unfortunately, i am very much still alive and kicking, so this is me trying to get the ball rolling again when it comes to posting fics. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it + tumblr will not allow me to post it as a whole due to it's paragaph-count limit, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

if you see any typos, no you didn't 🫣

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of. “huh?” “this. us. it could be casual, y’know?”

Golden boy, you dropped the ball I am Annie fucking Hall

The year moves too fast.

It’s like you blink, and suddenly it’s Thanksgiving.

Leaves turn brown. Pumpkins are carved only to rot upon front porches. A gathering of friends, young adults getting their first taste at hosting a thanksgiving meal.

You’re put on dessert duty, which culminates in stressful tears and your mother’s hand rubbing soothing circles into your back, reassuring you that it’s okay, everyone burns their first pie.

No one at the party needs to know the pumpkin pie you brought was a product of your mother’s gentle care.

Then there is actual Thanksgiving, which you celebrate, as always, at your aunt's.

The highlight is, and forever has been, the road-trip out of state, your father making it his mission to deafen you and your mother with his horrific singing.

As they drop you back at your apartment, your father has no qualms leaning out the car window and calling after you.

“I expect to see you cheering me on at the Thanksgiving Touchdown event!”

Which brings you here, to said event, sweater sleeves tugged over cold fingers and a wandering pair of eyes who refuse to comply with your wants.

You want to focus on the ongoing football match- Fire Department vs Police.

Your eyes prefer to follow him, striding up the field, his hair soaked in sweat and his t-shirt long removed.

You’ve no valid reason to roll your eyes at the other women who seem to prefer spectating the sport of Javier Peña. You’re no better than them.

Yet, as one of them let’s out a joyous shriek as he takes a pass at the ball, your eyes roll.

"He’s a show-off, that boy.”

At least you have company. An older gentleman, who you caught struggling to pick his wallet up from the floor. He’d smiled as you returned it, and conversation had flowed easily from there.

As the whistle blew, commencing the final match of the local community services’ football league- or, Thanksgiving Touchdown, as your father so aptly named it-, he’d patted the empty seat next to him.

“Hmm?”

He points, and you follow the direction, realising he’s speaking about Javi.

“Him,” he says it with a teasing tone to his voice. It’s like he’s mocking the agent. “Think’s he’s God’s gift, takin’ his top off like that.”

The more you sit with the older gentleman, the more you enjoy his company.

On the field, your dad bellows something at Javi. He replies with a curt salute, and shoots off down the length of it.

He’s fast, agile, stealthy.

A force to be reckoned with, keeping pace with rookies half his age.

The vision of him, gun strapped to his leg and a tact vest on his chest, speeding down streets in the columbian heat conjures in your mind.

You wonder how it felt to know him then, if worry kept his companions awake.

It had certainly kept you awake in recent months, and that was with him safe, in Laredo, cooped up in some bachelor pad.

“Surprised he’s not thrown his top to the crowd of screaming ladies!” The gentleman continues his mocking, and it rouses laughter out of both of you.

A whistle is blown, your eyes return to the field and, though he’s quick to look away, you catch the tail end of Javier’s eyes on you.

Fifteen minutes pass, in which you do your best to not stare at him.

You’ve made worse attempts in the past.

Eventually, the man next to you coaxes you into getting him a lemonade from the food truck.

You oblige, of course, and deny his attempts to hand you cash, insist it’s on you.

He’s kept you smiling on a rather gloomy day.

You tell him you’ll be right back, smile, and realise you don’t know his name.

“Chucho,” he tells you, and waves you off.

You join the queue, keep your head down, ignore the gossiping women three spots ahead of you, claiming to have each shared an encounter with Javi.

You don’t need to know what he’s been up to.

You don’t want to know who he’s been up to it with.

It happens when you’re finally being served.

There’s no longer a queue, just you, smiling as sweetly as possible. The service industry is rough enough, nevermind on holidays.

You order successfully, both Chucho’s lemonade and a hot chocolate for yourself.

The guy working the truck- young enough, a bit too traditionally good-looking, with coiffed hair and a shaven face- he’s talkative.

Friendly.

Too friendly.

Till it crosses the border into flirty.

You’re not interested.

At all.

But it’s flattering, to feel wanted.

Even more so after a something that means nothing yet everything ends out of the blue and you’re left reeling over whether or not some part of you is to blame.

So you let him shoot you his dashing smile, and throw in unnecessary pet-names that just feel forced into every sentence he speaks to you, and write his number on the paper cup of your hot chocolate.

“Here you go, pumpkin,” he winks. The pet-name feels a little too on the nose for the season. Couldn’t he have called you sweetheart instead? “A sweet treat for that sweet smile.”

You wonder if he’s allowed to gift the free donut he slides your way.

Your stomach growls and begs for sugary release before you can fully bring yourself to care.

An awkward thanks. Hands reach up to grab the to-go cups, three fingers curling up the bagged donut. 

He helps you get a grip on the beverages, placing them in your hands.

His touch lingers, more than necessary, fingertips brushing over your knuckles as if trapped in slow-motion.

“So, a pretty girl like you got a boyfriend, or are you gonna let me take you out to-”

Gasps fill the air.

Half the crowd boos.

Your father screams one name, loud and clear, down the pitch.

“Peña, get your head out your fucking ass and pick up the ball!”

Turning on your heal, the scene unfolds.

The ball, abandoned on the ground.

The players, scrambling to grab it before one another.

Javier, frozen in place, face an unreadable maze of emotions, eyes staring right at you.

They follow you all the way back to your seat, even as the game picks up again.

Even as you congratulate your dad on another victory for the police department, now the four-time consecutive champions of the Thanksgiving Touchdown.

Even as you head off to your father’s car.

Even when you’re home, curled under a blanket and watching a televised copy of Annie Hall, you feel his eyes on you.

The look of betrayal on Javier Peña haunts you even once you fall asleep.

If you don’t love me, What was April?

You’ve always been organised.

Everything has it’s place, from the books that line your bedside table to the memories inside your mind.

You compartmentalise.

Tucked deep into the right side of your brain, there’s a box.

It’s contents, memories you’ve yet to process.

Moments you know that, if you wish to move on, you’ll have to relive.

Caution tape holds the lid shut.

Fragile stickers cover every corner.

And, scribbled in bold red marker, April ‘99.

A late night.

You, wide awake, laying on your back and mapping out stars in his ceiling.

Javier fell asleep hours ago and now snores softly against your neck, muscled arm curled around your waist as his legs entangle your own.

The agent is a fiend for cuddling, and so often wraps himself around you like a vine.

You find yourself nestling your hand in his hair, and take note of the sharp breath he intakes.

Go still.

Worry you’ve woken him.

Relax when you feel him snore and press himself even deeper against your naked skin.

He’s tired. Exhausted.

Work was getting to him as of late.

He hadn’t told you that, but he didn’t need to.

You know him. You can read him.

Can tell in the way he moved slower against you.

In the way he let you take the lead, resting back against the couch to watch how your hips wound down on him.

In the way he got even clingier than usual, dragging you into the shower with him just to have you near, holding you from behind as you washed up the plates he’d used to serve you dinner (a trade-off he’d reluctantly agreed to months ago: he cooks, you clean), laying his head on your lap as you curled up to watch some cheesy horror movie- one you’re bound to fall asleep during and he’s counting on it, glancing up till he spots you slumped over and eyes closed, granting him the perfect excuse to carry you to his bed and nestle himself in beside you.

Unlike other nights, you’re trapped awake.

Something feels off, makes you queasy.

There’s something nagging at your mind.

It’s like you’ve forgotten something, misplaced something, and can’t even figure out what it is.

You just know its absence is wrong.

Javi mumbles something, dreaming away, and you feel the subtle press of his lips against your skin.

Fingers curl tightly into the fabric of your (his) shirt.

He can’t get you close enough, it seems.

Playing against his wants, you pull back, slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

There’s a pinch between his brows, furrowed in worry.

It’s not fair, you think.

Sleep is usually where you see him at his calmest.

It’s a selfish act, born purely from your own desire, but you find yourself pressing a kiss against his forehead.

His grip loosens, though slightly.

It gives you enough time to feel a stir between your thighs, a calling coming from your bladder.

So you do your best to slip out his hold.

It’s a struggle that leaves you topless and feeling a pinch of cruelty, standing over the bed as you watch his hand grabbing at the vacant spot you once occupied, your scent and shirt the only traces you leave behind.

You don’t bother turning on a light, make your way to his bathroom with practiced ease.

Pad your way across the cold linoleum floor, sink down onto the porcelain seat- he’d stopped leaving it up when your overnight visits became more frequent. You hadn’t asked- didn’t need to ask-, he’d simply done it.

Closing the door over, yet not enough for the hinges to squeak and the handle to lock, you pray the wood muffles noise of the flushing toilet.

When it stops, you wait a few seconds, until you’re sure there’s no rustling coming from his bedroom.

Then, you open the tap.

The water is barely a trickle, yet you tell yourself its enough.

Lather your hands in soap, sit them under the constant drip of cold water till you feel the suds wash down the drain.

It’s hard to stop yourself from sneaking a glance at the mirror, just as it’s hard to recognise the version of yourself you see.

Your hair frames your face, though messy.

Your eyes are bloodshot, yet carry less bags.

Your cheeks are rounder, fuller.

You look different.

You feel it too.

Yhen come the thoughts of Javier, and how he sees you.

Has he noticed a change?

Is he the reason for it?

Does he feel different, too?

Your stomach flips.

He’s not said anything. Or done anything, to make you notice a change.

But, then, Maybe it’s been subtle, slow, dragged out long enough it’s not drastic enough for either of you to take note of.

You eye the spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom, and try to remember when it became yours.

You don’t remember.

One moment, his toothbrush sat alone. And, the next, you were standing side by side, laughing as you raced to see who could make a foamier mess of the toothpaste.

Corazón, you look like a rabid animal, he’d called you once, laughing through tears as he wiped away the white suds dripping off your chin. You’re lucky that you’re just so cute.

You can recall, even now, how quickly his mouth had found yours that night, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in the minty taste of one another.

The stir in your stomach becomes more intense.

Eyes refocusing, you find yourself in the mirror again.

Only, sweat lines your forehead and your face seems drained of colour.

You make it only two steps back before you’re hurtling across the bathroom floor.

Your knees crash down first, harsh and unforgiving against the tiles.

The first wretch burns, has you coughing over your own gag.

In the dark, it’s hard to see what exactly comes out of you, but you know where it came from.

Your stomach.

Another wave of nausea hits, this one harder, and you’re gripping at the sides of the bowl, spewing into the water below.

A splash meets your cheek, but you’re too out of it to care, wave after wave of nausea leaving you a coughing, gagging, crying mess.

You feel lightheaded, only managing a moment to catch your breath before another wave hits.

It feels like you’re suffocating.

It’s in your throat, in your mouth, in your nose, in your hair.

It feels like it’s never stopping and you’re doomed to spend the rest of your days submitting to the horrors of throwing-

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” warmth, against your naked back.

It’s a nice warmth, not like the one that has you covered in a cold sweat.

There’s a soothing motion over your skin.

Up, down, up, down.

You try to follow it, match your breathing to the tactile comfort.

“That’s it, baby,” cool air meets your neck, the hairs that stuck to your skin now pulled up and pushed back. “I’m right here, I got you.”

Eventually, all that’s left is the burning of bile at the back of your throat and the dull ache of eyes gone raw with tears.

You’re pulled into a solid mass, naked chest pressed to naked chest as you go slack upon the bathroom floor.

You’re exhausted, and covered in your own sweat, tears and vomit.

Javier doesn’t care, pulling you tighter against him and whispering sweet words you don’t quite pay attention to.

“Woke up and you weren’t there, corazón. Don’t do that again,” even in his attempts to chastise, he’s gentle, brushing the remaining strands of sweat-slicked hair off your face. You must be an awful sight, yet his expressions don’t give way. “You wake up, you wake me up too. ‘Specially if you’re gonna hurl, okay?”

You glance at him, swallow back a lump and deal with the realisation that dawned upon you ten minutes earlier, as you sat hunched over the toilet’s bowl.

“Javi,” he smiles at the way you call his name.

You feel sick all over again at the thought of that changing, everything changing, as you build the courage to speak.

He calls your own name back to you.

“I’m late.”

You await the sharp inhale.

And the unwinding of arms.

You imagine he’ll stand up, pace the floor.

Run his hands through his hair, rant over every thought he has.

Ways to get rid of it, the dangers of your dad finding out.

Then he’ll turn the blame to you.

That’s what men do, right?

He’ll ask why you weren’t safer, why you forgot to take that morning-after pill, why you played so fast-and-loose with your body.

None of it arrives.

He stands, yes, but only to pull you up with him, tired limbs leaning into his strong build as he drags you both under the heat of a warm shower.

You watch the remnants of your own vomit wash down the drain, and question how he can stand there, not disgusted with you.

He dries you off, delicate drags over your skin.

He’s rougher with himself, scarcely drying properly before he’s carrying you back to his bed, a replay of hours earlier as he lays you down, crawls in behind you and tucks you both under the soft comfort of his worn-out sheets.

Only, this time you’re wide awake.

He so easily nestles himself behind you, dragging you back against him and committing himself to the role of big-spoon.

His hands have always felt large, their touch always electrifying, but nothing compares to the feeling of him splaying one across your lower stomach, a subtle press into where part of him could be growing within you.

“Javi,” you whine, fighting off the sleep your overwhelmed body so badly needs. “I’m sorry.”

You say it because you feel obligated, like it’s your place to be apologetic.

After all, the blame is yours, surely.

“No seas boba (Don’t be silly),” there’s a fresh set of tears already sliding down your cheeks by the time he replies. “Don’t need to be sorry, baby.”

“But I-”

“But, nothing,” his tone feels final, one that tells you you’ll get nowhere arguing against him. “You’ve done nothing wrong, corazón.”

You fall asleep, eventually, soothed by his gentle breathing and the repeated motion of his thumb stroking over your belly.

Yhe next time you awake, there’s a crack of sunlight creeping through his blinds.

Javi’s still in bed, only he’s propped up on his elbow and staring down at you.

His smile stretches a little wider when he spots your open eyes.

Lips press against your own, soft and subtle.

A quiet greeting, a wordless goodmorning.

“I gotta go, corazón,” is met with a protest from you, rolling over to curl into his solid chest.

Expecting it, he wraps you up tighter in his arms, presses an array of chaste kisses to your head.

You don’t want him to leave this bed.

Or this apartment.

You don’t want him out, in the real world, where the hours you’ve spent cooped up together become more scandalous than the peaceful nature of them.

“I know, I know. Don’t wanna go either, baby,” you wonder if you spoke your thoughts aloud, or if Javi simply knows you so well.

Eventually, he peels himself away from you.

You watch him dress.

Tell him which tie to wear.

Help him tie it, the comforter pooled around your naked waist as you sit criss-cross-apple-sauce and Javi’s at the side of the bed, legs bent at the knee.

He thanks you with a kiss, then asks you to pass him his cologne.

It’s on the other side of the bed- his side of the bed- and you lean over to grab it.

You don’t bother handing him it, spraying it directly onto your own wrist and dabbing it into the skin of his tanned neck.

He lets you, a gentle smile on his face and eyes that pull you in for a hug, burrowing himself between your naked breasts.

He presses a kiss between them, hums in enjoyment.

“You’re gonna smell like me all day, cariño (darling),” he tells you.

“Good,” you reply.

Another hum, this time of approval, and a squeeze to your hip.

When he pulls back, he looks even more reluctant to leave.

Reality rears it’s ugly head, but he pushes it out your mind with the pressing of his hand against your stomach, the same spot he’d held onto all night.

Leans down, brushes his lips against it.

Your hands instinctually curl in his hair, and you like to think you leave it a little messy, enough to ward off any of the women he works along side, hopeful eyes hoping to get a taste of the handsome, unmarried cop.

“Stay,” he mumbles against your skin, as if you’re the one who’s about to leave. “Don’t go, ok? I’ll call around lunch.”

He keeps his word.

Calls you, a few minutes past two, interrupting whatever daytime TV you were pretending to watch.

Answering leaves you feeling lightheaded, like you're trapped in a daydream.

Listening to him croon down the line while your finger anxiously tangles in the phone’s wire as you stand in his apartment, it feels domestic, like you’re waiting for him to come back home, a place you share together.

The thought has you pressing a hand against your womb.

“How bout you, corazón?” He knows how to make you melt, picturing him smiling at his desk. “Have you ate yet?”

With a grimace, you admit you haven’t.

“You need to eat, baby,” you don’t like the fact he uses that pet-name, not right now. “There’s plenty in the fridge. Could make yourself a sandwich, or some toast. Might even have some of that pasta left over. You know, that one you said you liked? Oh, wait, maybe don’t eat that, don’t think uncooked salmon is good for pregn-”

You don’t want him to say the P word, so you cut him off.

“I’ll probably just have toast.”

He says ok, then you hear him take a bite of whatever his lunch is.

The call goes on a little longer.

It’s mostly him talking.

He tells you a quick story, something about one of the younger guys accidentally stapling his tie to an arrest warrant.

That rouses a laugh out of you, makes you forget all about the massive P word he almost said.

“I’ll be home soon, okay?”

That sounds nice coming from Javi.

Home.

Not his home, just home.

A place he feels his soul at rest.

A place he’d begged you to stay this morning, safe and tucked away.

“Was thinking we could drive out to the clinic, find out for sure if we’re pr-” he cuts himself off this time, like he knows you’re not ready to hear that word. “Then we’ll take things from there, okay? Whatever you decide you wanna do, corazón, you call the shots.”

He keeps his word, again.

Comes home barely three hours later.

He walks through the door and welcomes the way you coil yourself around him, humming in delight as he peppers a few kisses over your face.

“Still smell like me,” he says it with approval, takes a purposeful whiff at you as he pulls you tighter against him.

You still smell his cologne on him too, buried beneath a few layers of sweat and cigarette smoke.

Near clinging to one another, it’s a miracle you two make it out his apartment and down the elevator.

An arm around your waist, he guides you over to his car.

Pulls the door open for you, stops you from bumping your head on the way in.

He practically runs round the car’s hood, jumping into the driver’s seat and thrumming the engine to life with the turn of a key.

“You remember to eat?” He asks as he pulls out onto the street.

You nod, then audibly reply.

Tell him you did in fact eat toast, leave out the part where you spewed your guts again twenty minutes later.

The drive is quiet.

Not uncomfortable, just relaxed, with the radio playing gently and his window rolled down enough to let in some air.

At some point, his hand slides over the console and rests against your thigh.

You welcome it, covering it with your own.

As you watch out the window how he drives past the turning for the local hospital, he must catch your questioning gaze.

“They, uh,” he clears his throat, rings his hand over the steering wheel. A small stain of sweat marks it. “Know your dad pretty well in there. And me. Figure you’d rather he not find out about us like that.”

He’s right.

So you relax back into your seat, accept the fact you’re both driving out of town together.

At some point, the beginning notes of your favourite song play through the stereo.

You instantly perk up, sitting up straighter in your seat and tap your foot a little to the beat.

Javi says nothing, simply peels his hand off you to turn the volume dial up.

Seconds later, he turns his head and throws you a look just asking if he’s done good.

You smile, and thread your fingers between his own.

A soft squeeze before he pulls them up to his lips, eyes back on the road.

The clinic is bright.

And squeaky, each step you take making you a little more nervous than the last.

Javier, by all accounts, is solid as a rock, signing you both in, picking up a few pamphlets, buying you a can of soda, all while you curl up in some plastic chair and just focus on not spewing your guts out.

You only relax once he’s sat beside you, helping you get a sip of the sugary drink and wrapping a protective arm around you.

You don’t mean to but you fall victim to sleep, the past 24 hours getting the best of you.

You come-to likely not much later, but to the sound of a childish giggle.

Cracking one eye open, just slightly, you notice you’re slumped into Javier, head on his shoulder.

There’s a giggling little girl in front of you both, in purple overalls and with two pigtails to hold her curly hair.

One of her hands is on Javi’s knees, using him to keep herself standing.

“First time?” You snap your eyes shut as a stranger’s voice fills the quiet bustle of the clinic.

A confused sound leaves Javier.

“Yeah, could tell from the look on your lady’s face,” the man continues. “Same one my own wife had during our first visit.”

You want to pay attention to Javi’s response, but you’re a bit busy dealing with the fact he’s not correcting the man, telling him you’re not his lady nor his wife.

His thumb soothes over your hip, and you wonder at what rate you’ll melt away into a pile of nothing thanks to his soft touches.

“You hoping for a boy or a girl?”

You tell yourself to try harder, to actually pay attention.

You succeed, catch as Javi replies, “a girl.”

“Yeah?” the stranger seems genuinely invested, it almost makes you want to open your eyes, see him for yourself.

But you don’t want to ruin the moment.

“Wanted a boy, myself,” that same little girl giggles again and you can’t fight the temptation to peek once more, catch as she crawls into her faceless-father’s lap. “Doc told us it was gonna be a boy, too. Then this one came along and, wouldn’t ya know, not a boy.”

“Surprise!” the little girl squeals, and you feel Javi’s shoulder shake under your head.

God, you want to look at him, see if he’s looking at her with the same adoration that’s festering in your heart.

“Yeah, baby, you’re my little Sarah-Surprise,” the man coos and, despite his rough accent, it suits him. Like he was only ever meant to speak with gentle words and a soft heart, all for his precious daughter. “It’ll get easier, on your lady, just so ya know. Less scary, more exciting. ‘Bout to welcome our second one, and I’ve never seen my wife so happy.”

Javi’s still not correcting him.

It makes you nauseous for a whole new reason.

“Mr. Miller?” A voice calls out.

A nurse, you imagine.

A chair squeaks as pressure is taken off it, the stranger standing.

You peak your eye open in time to see him picking his daughter up, her little legs dangling off his hip.

He takes a few steps, till Javi interrupts him.

“What,” he clears his throat, and you wonder if it’s of emotion. “What are you hoping for this time?”

“A girl.”

Eventually, it’s your turn.

You’d pretended to wake up to Javier’s coaxing.

Shuffled into some room, reluctantly separating from Javi.

A smiley nurse handed you a cup, talked you through what you needed to do for your tests.

Took your blood pressure, complimented your earrings, and stepped out the room to give you privacy.

A short while and a reunion with Javi later, you sat in a doctor’s office, both a nervous wreck as you clasped each other’s hand.

“Mrs. peña,” again, Javier does not correct the doctor. And you realise it’s because he filled out the forms, he signed you in. He wrote you down as Peña. “You and your husband are not pregnant.”

What should have followed was a sigh of relief, from both of you.

But all you felt was led drop in your stomach and Javier’s grip tighten on your hand.

“You are, however, displaying symptoms of acute food poisoning, likely salmonella.”

The doctor continues on, detailing a prescription you’re being given.

But it falls on deaf ears, the world around you gone blank as you wrestle with conflicting emotions.

You’re not pregnant.

You should be elated. Jumping, and cheering, and dancing all over the place. Instead, you’re silent, letting yourself be guided back into the car by Javi.

This time, the drive is silent.

Not quiet.

Silent.

You watch him drive past the turning into your street.

He doesn’t explain that he’s taking you back to his place.

Getting you back in his bed, switching off the lights, he curls himself in behind you and splays his hand over your stomach.

Over your empty womb.

For some reason, you find yourself sobbing into your pillow, unaware of the tears from him that stain your neck as he tries to hush you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” the irony of him repeating those very same words last night is not lost on you.

It’s hard to move on, when every month there’s a stabbing pain in your abdomen and a trickle of blood staining your underwear to remind you of April.

And so you keep it locked in it’s box, slapping another caution tape over it’s lid as you groan and roll out your own bed, trudging your way into your bathroom to check if the wetness between your thighs is your monthly visitor.

You played a game But I run the table

You’re avoiding your dad’s calls.

It’s not because he’s done anything to warrant your rejection, but, rather, it’s the forthcoming actions he’ll be guilty of.

See, you know why he’s calling.

Your mom let it slip, over brunch and a few too many glasses of wine.

He’s hosting another poker night.

He wants you there, as always.

Some baseless theory of you being his good luck charm.

Or, at least, that’s what you were until the last poker night he’d hosted, way back in March.

He slips away, phoned by your tipsy mother and obligated to drive three towns over to go pick her up because she misses him.

“Fill in for me, will ya, kiddo?”

It was less a suggestion, more of a pleading, his hands already scraping the seat back and awaiting you to plop yourself down.

He leaves you with his hand, his winnings so-far, and a kiss to the top of your head.

“Watch out for Peña,” he whispered, as if you hadn’t been keeping an eye on the agent all evening, clouded by his own cigarette smoke and sitting looser each sip of his whiskey, no ice. “His poker face is dangerous.”

He turns out to be no threat.

None of the officer’s are, really.

Rounds end and rounds start, and you father’s pile of winnings grow more and more.

It’s an ego boost, taking money from these cocky men who look at you as though surely you have no clue what cards you’re holding.

But, taking from Javi?

That’s something else, entirely.

Each time you win, he gets more agitated.

Flinging down cards, muttering curses, shoving his cash across the table.

All whilst glaring, at you, eyes black with ire.

And intoxication.

And something else.

Something you know all too well on Javier.

Lust.

Nearly an hour’s past since your father left, someone else leaves the table.

Says he needs the toilet, you point him in the direction of it.

You all call for a break, and then you graciously offer a refill on drinks.

It’s what your dad would’ve done, kept them all drinking and lowering their inhibitions, their focus disappearing alongside it.

“I’ll help!” One of the officers exclaims.

He’s on the younger side.

Practically a rookie, it’s only the second poker night he’s attended.

He’s sweet, with his large-framed glasses and his nervous smile.

You both make your way out of the basement- refurbished to be your dad’s man-cave- and head towards the kitchen.

You open the fridge, grab however many bottles of beer you need.

He heads to the liquor cabinet, pulls out a bottle bourbon.

You beat him at grabbing the whiskey, an unvoiced need to be the one who refills Javi’s glass.

Maybe, he’ll offer you a sip.

Conversation flows naturally between you, in spite of him being a near stranger.

He asks about college.

You ask about working with your dad.

You both agree on the fact he’s a pain in the ass.

He tells you about a new bar, downtown.

You tell him where to go to get the best club sandwich.

It’s light, it’s easy, it’s friendly.

You’re enjoying his company.

nNeither of you can tell who causes it, but one of you mispronounces a word and you both wind up in a pile of giggles, falling over yourselves and banging into counters.

His hands grip his sides.

You’re clutching your chest.

Through wheezes, he repeats the phrase that left you both in this state.

You laugh harder, louder, warn him to stop before you lose control of your bladder.

Something thuds in the hallway, your eyes shoot up to the kitchen entry and you swear you see Javi’s retreating figure.

Blink a few times, realise there’s no one there.

You both gather some decorum.

He grabs as many of the beer bottles he can manage, and looks at your empty hands in question.

You tell him to head back without you, that you just need to go to the toilet.

Parting ways, you find the both the downstairs and upstairs bathrooms occupied.

Sigh in frustration, only to remember your parents en suite.

It’s empty, because of course it is. No one would feel comfortable enough invading the privacy of your parents' bedroom.

You do your business, wash your hands, fix yourself in the mirror.

Decide your lipstick needs a little touch-up, your clothes need straightening out.

And, when you’re done and ready to head back down to the poker table, you hear a thud.

Pull open the bathroom door, expect to find your father struggling to put a tipsy, giggly, clumsy version of your mother into bed.

Instead, there is only a brooding look and disapproving grunt.

A firm grip, on your arm, dragging you right back into the bathroom.

The door slams shut, a little harsher than you’d like, the sound of it surely reaching the ears of those regrouping for the next dealing of the cards.

He doesn’t pounce, like he so usually does when he’s wearing that look of frustration.

He’s simmering in it, teetering on the edge of boiling anger as he smooths a hand over his chin, visibly clenching his jaw, swallowing back whatever it is he wants to say to you.

He takes one step forward, and you go one back.

Then two steps, which you also match.

Your hip smacks into the sink’s counter on your fifth step backwards and it’s enough to finally put his hands on you.

He tugs you right into his chest, one hand soothing over where you’d banged your hip.

It’s alarmingly gentle for his stoic features.

When he speaks, you nearly melt into a puddle, the heat of him invading your space, face inching close to your own, enough to have you questioning the sanctity of your parents en suite.

“What’s going on with you, huh?”

“Could ask you the same thing, officer,” you make the fatal mistake of giggling, but you’ll blame it on the fruity cider you’d helped yourself to.

He clearly finds no humour, not even as you fiddle with the top button of his shirt and shoot him your best look of innocence.

“Think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you?” His hand, warm and imposing, grips a hold of your face.

It’s almost painful, but you like it, squirming a little at the blunt stab of his nails and the way he smooshes your cheeks, forcing a pout onto your lips.

You try shake your head, his grip won’t let you.

“Sitting in a room full of men, making yourself the centre of attention,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, and you can’t help but compare him to an angry dragon.

He’s worked up, frustrated, angry.

And it’s hot. A turn-on.

“What’s the matter, Javi? Jealous you’re not the centre of all those men’s attention?” You’re poking the dragon, teasing him, and it’s an act that may leave you burned and scarred.

Or, as you’re hoping, it’ll win you the ride of a lifetime.

He doesn’t even grace you with a verbal response.

No, he scoffs, as though he’s in physical disbelief at the words you’re saying.

Spins you around, pins you to the sink’s counter, tugs your hair till you’re forced to stare at your reflection.

He’s right behind you, seething in anger, fire in his eyes.

His head dips between you neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your pulse point.

“Not all of us are attention whores like you,” it’s fleeting, and he’ll deny it if you dare mention it, but he smiles.

Just a second, but you feel it, see it even though he tries so hard to turn his face into your neck.

It’s what lets you know he’s playing, teasing, egging you on to push him over the edge.

“I’ve been with real whores, corazón,” he confesses a sin you already know, eaves-dropping one too many times on your dad fishing stories of Colombia out of him. “Fucked them so often they started doing their nails in colours they knew I wanted to see wrapped around my cock.”

Involuntarily, your back arches, brushing your ass against him and providing him the perfect access to wind his hand up between your heaving breasts, all the way up till his fingers curl round the base of your throat.

In the mirror, the image is one of ownership, of Javi seizing your bodily autonomy. A whore and her gentleman caller.

It’s arousing to think about, Javi and his whores.

You wonder what positions he put them in.

How many rounds he lasted with them.

How often he made them cum.

“And not one of them took half the money you’ve taken from me tonight.”

Oh.

So that’s what this is, his pretty ego, bruised at the hands of you?

Poor Mr. Javier Peña, humiliated in front of all his peers round after round, hundred bill after hundred bill.

You almost taunt him for giving into the temptations of the fragile male ego, but you’re stopped in your tracks.

By him, hands squeezing at you a little tighter as he grinds the unmistakable outline of his hardened cock against you.

That single action changes the game, entirely.

Because this isn’t about you stealing his money and his ego.

No, this is something far filthier, that has your panties growing wetter beneath the skirt of your dress.

“I’m worth every dime though, aren’t I, officer?.”

The grip tightens.

He shoves you harder into the counter, so hard a tub of your mother’s moisturiser topples off.

The hard outline of him is still there, ever-present.

“‘S that what you like, huh, taking my money? Wanna be Javi’s personal little whore?”

Every ounce of feminism evaporates within you.

Who could deny such a tentative offer?

Certainly not you, reflection mimicking the way you eagerly nod, teeth biting down on your bottom lip in a failed attempt to hold back a grin.

Javi notices- of course he notices- and takes his victory, hips rocking even deeper into you.

There’s too many layers between you, a feat on which you both agree, yet neither of you do anything about.

You just savour the friction, instead, pushing and pulling one another to the axis of pleasure.

Your panties, soaked.

His jeans, tight.

“What’s it gonna cost me to get you bent over and stuffed full of my cum, corazón?” One hand leaves your body. The mirror snitches on him, exposing how he’s reaching into his back pocket. “This?”

He smacks something down, into the bowl of the sink.

It’s his wallet, and you watch the worn leather of it shine with the residue of water on the linoleum.

The hand at your throat pulses a squeeze, his knee nudges you from behind.

“C’mon, don’t be shy.”

His mouth, right by your ear, lips tickling you with the subtlest of brushes against it.

His hand guides your own, down into the sink, flipping the wallet open and putting it’s belongings on display.

Bills, some placed neatly, others stuffed in forcefully, edges spilling out the pockets. There’s less in there than when he arrived, courtesy of you.

There’s a few miscellaneous cards. A library card, an ID slip you’re sure he uses for something in the sheriff's station, a loyalty card to some record store.

The picture of his mother sits centre stage, radiant smile and loving eyes grabbing the attention of any who dare open it.

He has his mother’s eyes, you notice.

And then you notice something else, peeking out from behind his mother’s picture.

You dive into temptation, dart your nosy fingers over to tug at the object, till you realise it’s another picture.

A picture of Javi, and you.

Taken on a polaroid you found under a box of his belongings, you remember the day clear as ever.

The two of you had messed around, captured your sins on film with the promise of destroying it after. It would be too risky a thing, to allow image evidence of the intimate ways in which you knew each other’s bodies.

Javi’s fingers on your skin, your nipple in his mouth, his cock’s outline bulging within your lower abdomen.

There was no point risking your father ever finding it.

But this picture, this one you do not remember.

Fully dressed, eyes fixed on his television, your head lays in his laps while his fingers card through your hair.

It’s captured from above, as if Javi’s own eyes had made a permanent record of his view.

The sweetness of this living on, of Javi taking something sacred for himself to keep hidden in his wallet distracts you for a moment.

He does good to bring you back into the room.

“Take how much you think you’re worth, corazón,” whispered into your ear, as he rips a few of the notes out his wallet.

They sit in the sink, growing wet.

And you are too, frozen on the spot.

You glance down, count over the different bills.

Five dollars.

Twenty dollars.

Hundred dollars.

With each bill you count, your internal price shooting up within your head, you try picture his reaction.

In the mirror, he’s watching.

Not the sink bowl, no.

You, your face, looking at your expressions in a way that reminds you it’s his job to read people.

You decide to be bold, dig into his wallet and, even though your insides twist in anxious turmoil, hold up your hand to present him with your answer.

Resting neatly, between your fore and middle finger, a shiny credit card.

The gleam in Javi’s eyes just about match it, blackened and blown out with lust.

The card is plucked out your hand.

The hand on your neck leaves, in search of your waist.

The fabric of your dress bunches, wrinkling and creasing as his fabric-straining grip inches it’s hem higher and higher.

You feel sexy like this, face heated and breathing heavy.

It’s an effect he has on you, has had on you, forcing you to look at yourself in new lights, in new angles, admiring every out-of-line trace of you for what you are.

Desirable.

And attractive.

And pretty.

And smart.

And every other word under the sun that Javi whispers into your skin with innocence as his body commits sins within you.

At the bottom of the mirror, you watch as the white cotton of your panties comes into view.

Wet, as you both expected, the thin fabric now turned almost sheer, exposing the delectable view of your cunt hugged cutely by the cotton’s tight seams.

Javi hisses, muttering something to himself.

There’s a strain to his voice, one that would have you worried he’s in pain if it weren’t for the way you’re watching as his face contorts with lust.

His eyes are dark and you study them like he studies his card, contemplating something.

A few seconds pass. 

Tension is puffed out his chest with one exhale, through the nose.

You feel the air tickle your skin.

He nods curtly, to himself, and flickers his gaze back to meet your own in the mirror.

It’s unwavering, even as he brings the black plastic down and smacks it against your mound.

You squeal, he hushes, and you both know he doesn’t mean it at all.

He likes when you gift him noise, a private aria only he has tickets to.

Just as easily as the first time, he snaps the card against you again, a jolt of pleasure shooting straight through your clit.

Just as loudly as the first time, you squeal, a jolt back into his warm, steady, hard embrace.

“What’re you running from, hmm?” His face turns, burrowing itself in the tresses of your hair.

A shallow sniff, and you wonder if he notices the smell of his shampoo on you.

There’s a pressing of lips, against your scalp, and it’s far too gentle of a juxtapose to the imagery of his fingers pulling your panties to the side, exposing your pussy to the bathroom’s cold air and the two pairs of hungry eyes in the mirror.

“You say that this is what you’re worth, and then you don’t want to take it?”

The third spank of the card against your bundle of nerves is harder, louder, echos in the confined space. A moan, minuscule and muffled, slips past tightly shut lips, a look of fear flashing through wide eyes.

Javi’s quick with his reassurance, gentle with his comfort, a hand stroking over your collarbone.

“Don’t worry, no one’s gonna hear you. You just be as loud as you need, hermosa, they’re too busy encouraging that boy-cop to ask you to dinner.”

There’s a tint of jealousy to the way he says boy, and you’re reminded of the image of him in the kitchen doorway.

Smack!

The card strikes down, once more, this time eliciting an open-mouthed gasp. 

He doesn’t let up, repeating the action twice more.

It hurts, in a way that makes your core throb and your toes curl, squirming aimlessly in a grasp he knows you don’t truly want to escape.

But he mocks you, with a hushing noise in your ear and gentle it’s okay, corazón, Javi’s got yous against your neck. His thumb swipes through your folds, coating it in your wetness and dragging itself up to your clit, soaking it in soothing rubs.

His gentle nature lasts mere seconds, his wrist flicking back only to smack the credit card down again. This time, it’s a pattern of three, repeatedly crashing down on your sensitive nerves one after the other.

In the mirror, you watch him observe as he twiddles the card between deft fingers, contemplation on his mind.

The room’s quiet, apart from your shortened breaths and his deep inhales.

You hear a cheer.

From the basement.

It must have been a loud cheer, for you to hear them all the way up here.

And, suddenly, the stakes feel higher than when you were sat at the poker table, counting Javi’s coins with every passing round.

If you can hear them, they could hear you.

This doesn’t seem to cross Javier’s mind, who merely twists your head away from the bathroom door and back to the mirror, to where his hungry eyes await.

All contemplation is gone, he’s decided in what he’s going to do, and so you watch as he takes the card and swipes it through your cunt.

It’s not a pleasurable act, in itself.

In fact, it’s rather uncomfortable, the solid plastic hard on your delicate skin.

It’s the arousal of him doing it that gets you weak in the knees, to have him perform such a mundane act- the swiping of his credit card- in such a crass, dirty, wrong way.

Like he’s paying for you, committing a physical transaction in exchange for your body.

It doesn’t matter that he could have you for free, has had you for free.

He wants to pay, wants to reward you in a way that aligns with the capitalistic world.

“Javi…” You whimper, softly, head lulling back against his shoulder as he swipes the card again.

Your eyes, slowly slipping shut, shoot right back open as you feel the rounded corner of the card prod at your opening, as if trying to notch itself within you.

“Think she could take it, corazón?” Javi bites at your ear, teeth clamping down and pulling at it’s lobe. The card sinks in, not even an inch. You nudge back into, your cry circling the room around you both. “I know, baby, I know. It’d be a wide stretch, but ain’t that all pretty whores like you are good for, hmm?”

It’s automatic, the way you bend to his every whim, head nodding without direct orders from your brain, every part of you, conscious or not, ready and willing to prove you could fit his card inside of you.

For him, you can do it.

“Fitting big things in your little pussies?”

Surprisingly, the hand between your thighs retracts and you watch as he brings the card up to your mouth, glistening with your arousal.

“Open,” the directions are unnecessary, your mouth already dropping open for him in an act of muscle memory.

He hums approvingly, yet his eyes are still fury filled as he slots the card between your lips, lathering your tongue in your own taste. 

“You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you, corazón?”

The statement rings true, both ways: as much as you’ll take anything, he’ll give anything.

You don’t tell him that, though, finding it much easier to rest your palms on the countertop, backing your sopping core into him, enticing him with the wiggle of your hips and whines from your lips to take you already.

“Shh, shh, don’t you worry that pretty head. Javi’s gonna feed this greedy little cunt, ok?”

The unbuckling of a belt.

The unzipping of teeth.

The shucking down of-

Something smashes, in the basement, and it’s enough to have you flinching.

Javi’s touch soothes you, a hand running over the curve of your shoulder as he presses yet another kiss into your neck.

“S’okay, probably just a beer bottle.”

He doesn’t move another inch, not till he sees you nod, melting back into him.

You hear, more than you see, the way he tugs his trousers down, just enough to free his hardened cock from its jean-clad confine. The risky business of a quickie in your parents’ en suite calls for clothing moved aside, and not removed.

Much to your annoyance, his all-encompassing warmth drifts away as he moves back, hands clamping down on your hips. 

He tilts them to the angle he wants, the angle he knows gets him brushing all your sweet-spots.

He tugs the skirt of your dress up, and then readjusts your soiled underwear.

You hear him draw a deep breath and watch his eyes in the mirror, glued to that spot between your legs, entranced.

The drag of his cock over your folds is familiar, the way he smacks the head of it against your clit is welcomed.

He spears you no gentle coaxing, no stretching around his fingers first, coming undone just for him to fill you right back up, this time with his cock.

No, this is a vengeful touch, the kind that’s meant to display his irritation, his fury, for reasons you’ve yet to confirm yet you’re more than willing to accept.

A man like him, so unfairly selfless, taking something in this world for himself, how he wants to and how he likes to.

You’ll be his vice, so long as he grants you his virtues.

Javi fills you with a single thrust, grunting low into your ear as you feel the way the air is physically knocked out both for your lungs.

He’s still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he works on steadying his breathing, giving you time to adjust to the delicious stretch.

You whine out some version of his name, feel yourself pulse around him.

A hand, reaching up to cup your cheek.

A kiss, gentle and longing against your mouth.

He’s making you wait for it, you think, torturing you with an impending paradise.

He’s savouring the feel of you, he thinks, taking advantage of the few moments alone he wins with you.

"Javi,” he barely lets you part from him to speak, chasing a trail of kisses down your jaw. “This isn’t the time to develop patience.”

The snide remark earns you a bite, his teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. You squeal, try remind yourself to be quiet, only to squeal louder when his hands tickle at your waist.

“I’m a very patient man, corazón.”

You scoff.

“Just not when it comes to you.”

His hips roll back, slowly, but it’s better than nothing, better than when he wasn’t moving at all.

Still, he makes you squirm a little longer, moan his name a little louder.

Only then does his fake resolve snap and he’s fucking into you at a brain melting pace in the blink of an eye.

Javier does his best to keep quiet, at first, biting down on his lip and your neck just to contain all those melodies he usually makes.

You can’t say the same for yourself as, despite your efforts, broken moan after broken moan tumbles out your mouth and into the sink, filling and filling and filling it in sync with how Javi your cunt.

You wonder how long till it all spills over the edge.

“Joder (Fuck),” he groans as you unconsciously squeeze him tighter, pulling him deeper into your walls. serves him right, for the teasing and the torturing. “Tienes el coño más lindo en todo el mundo. (You have the prettiest cunt in the whole world.)”

You feel lightheaded.

Warm, sweaty, covered in the fingerprints of a lover you shouldn’t be with.

The bathroom fills with an array of sounds. The slapping of skin against skin, the broken cries of an agent’s name, the mindless rambling of a man drunk on pleasure.

“So good to me, baby. Always so fucking good to me.”

“Gonna stay here forever, fuck. That sound good to you, corazón, hmm? Full of my cock always?”

“Look at yourself… Pura belleza (Pure beauty).”

He consumes you, mind, body and soul.

There’s no worrying about the happenings around the poker table, no listening out for your father’s car pulling in the driveway, no worrying about your tousled hair or sweating skin.

There’s just Javi.

Beautiful, gorgeous, deserving Javi.

“Please, please, Javi-“ The words all melt together, pleads becoming his name, his name becoming pleads.

You’re not sure what you’re begging for.

It’s okay though, Javi always knows what you need.

“I know, amor (love), I know,” he murmurs into your skin, butterfly kisses so gentle you wonder how they come from the same man that’s pistoning his hips into you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get. “Let go, c’mon. Show me how much you love this cock, how much you love-”

He’s cut off by his own groan, you cunt fluttering around him as you inch closer and closer to the edge of euphoria.

Hands hurry off your waist, slipping between your thighs. 

It brings a welcomed cushioning, shielding you from repeatedly bumping against the marble of the countertop.

Your legs part further, eagerly, an easy pathway for his yearning fingers to seek out the wonders of the female body as they brush over your clit.

The gentle tactile that he strokes over your bundle of nerves, partnered with the repeated brushing of his cock against that spot that makes you weak in the knees, drool out your mouth, it’s becoming too much.

Eyes glancing in the mirror, you wonder if yours is the same image of the whores who’d warmed his Colombian nights: sweat soaked skin, hooded eyes, messed up hair, wrinkled clothing.

He tilts your hips, a deeper angle to fuck into you that has you perching up onto the tips of your toes, fighting with the chance of losing balance.

He’d catch you, if you fell.

Wrap you up in an embrace that’s more familiar than your own.

“I’m gonna- Fuck! Corazón, need you to cum. Now, please. Please. Need to feel you-”

He’s babbling, losing composure and revealing the side of him you pray he never showed those other women: the side that needs, the side that longs, the side that begs to see you cum before he allows himself to, before he’s able to.

“Javi,” it’s a struggle to speak, but you endure, fighting off your orgasm and holding back tears. There’s something you need from him too. “Cum with me. Wanna be full of you, all of you-”

“¿Sí? (Yeah?)” He pleads back, thrusts already getting a little sloppier, hands a little shakier in the way they touch you. Much like his poker face, you know how to read the face he wears moments before he falls apart. “¿Eso es lo que quiere mi corazón? (Is that what my sweetheart wants?) Want me to cum in you, hm?”

“Yes, oh god yes! So bad, Javi, I want it so bad!”

“Ay, bebesita, no llores. (Aw, baby girl, don't cry.)” He coos, a condescending lilt to his words that has you falling into a bigger mess. “Shh, don’t worry, baby. Gonna fill you right up, so my cum’s dripping down your thighs when that poor kid asks you for your number. Thinks he’s got a shot with you cause he made you laugh, poor boy wouldn’t know how to deal with all the noises I get out of you.”

Javi divulges into a spine-tingling rant of burning hot jealousy, the kind that leaves your cheeks burning and your heart scorching, lit under a flame of your desire for more of him. To have him, equal parts physical and emotional.

You try warn him of the bubble that’s about to burst, the feeling in your loins building and building till it’s seconds way from toppling over. 

“That’s it, baby, squeeze my cock. Lemme feel it,” He urges, heart pounding out his chest against your back, hands tightening their grip on your hips. “Need to feel you cum, ‘s all I want.”

You both crash and burn, together.

You fall first, a chaos of unfinished words, crying out for Javi.

He follows close behind, body pressed against your own like he’s willing you to fuse together, to become to entangled in one another that all possibilities of separation become void.

“Take it, cora-” He’s in your ears, in your head, in your heart. Inside of you, consuming you, as eagerly as he’s willing to be consumed by you, fingerprints on hips and teeth-marks in necks. “Take it, take it, take it.”

Arms envelop you from behind, crossing over your chest to pin you back against him.

He’s nearly stagnant, nothing but the twitch of his cock and the shallow thrusts he fucks you deeper with, filling you with another, another, another pump of his cum.

“So good,” Javi’s voice persists, teeth gritting as he bites back the need to be loud, to be heard, to lay a claim on you so blatant no one could deny hearing it. Your relationship with your father is the only thing that holds him back. “Good to me, baby. Always… Good… Díos. (God.)”

Craning your neck to the side, you manage to pull him in for a kiss.

It’s something he accepts easily, lips parting and melting into a dance against your own.

One of his hands falls over your jaw, twisting your face even closer to him.

The kiss dies slowly, with each of you refusing to truly part, pecks being splattered messily against the other’s mouth.

“Was I,” Javi interrupts you with another kiss, his free hand smoothing up and down your side, his hips still slowly rocking into yours, a delicious sting of overstimulation biting at your core. “Am I worth it?”

He pulls back, tired gaze warm as it takes in your messed features.

With the smile that stretches over his lips, however, one would think you were the prettiest creature in all the world.

He calls your name, calmly, slowly, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of it on his tongue. “You’re worth everything I could give, and more.”

There’s something behind the ways he says it that makes you believe him.

With little will to do so, you peel apart from each other, his hands moving quick to adjust your underwear as his cum starts to leak out onto your folds.

He exits the bathroom first, a final kiss placed on your cheek before your left alone, forced to confront the wrecked version of you that will never see your parent’s en suite in the same light.

Your dad arrives back just in time to see you slipping back down to sit at the poker table, no seat left for him to take but the one between his sweet daughter and his loyal best friend.

If only he knew he was placing you both where you most wanted to be when he suggested Javi give you a ride home, waving you both off through the car window with no idea Javi's cum sat dripping out your cunt, staining the car seat.

Your phone buzzes to life in your hand, slipping you out of your memories.

Your father’s contact name reads clearly on the screen.

Hitting decline one more time, you roll over and try ignore the gathering slick between your thighs.

Damn Javi and all the memories he haunts you with.

Mr, I don’t want a label You made me a little miss unstable (And it)

Days grow colder.

Nights grow longer.

You change your bedsheets, stuff a comforter back inside.

Pick out a tree, synthetic, and lump the box up the countless stairs to your apartment.

Try not to think of how he would’ve insisted on helping, refused to let you carry it.

Even if it culminated in him doubled over in pain, clutching his lower back.

Lights, baubles, action.

The tree’s smaller than you expect, barely reaching your hip, but it’s green, tree-shaped and festive. It’s enough.

Your decorations are minimal, a few inconsequential things you picked out your parents’ stash. There’s a Santa hat, frayed with time. A few cracked baubles, with string so thin you suspect they’ll snap off. A gingerbread man ornament, a glass snow-flake. A crooked star, missing one of its points, tops the tree.

A homemade snowman, one you’d gifted your parents after a busy day in nursery. Neither of them had the heart to tell you you’d made its nose a rather phallic shape.

And then there's the red phone-box, nestled somewhere in the middle, an etching of LONDON brandishing it as a reminder of your trip.

You’d picked it up in a tiny bookstore, right next door to The Distillery Club.

The winter season has never felt so lonesome, tucked away in your grown-up apartment. 

There’s no fireplace to warm your hands, no hot cocoa boiling on the stove. No cheesy hallmark movies to laugh at with your mother, no racing past your father to grab the last slice of dessert.

It’s just you, alone, with only your wandering mind as company.

Sometimes, more often than not, it wanders to him. To if he’s alone.

To if he’s filling his heart as easily as he fills his bed.

To if he’s finally bought a second seat for his dingy balcony.

“Is this some tactic of yours?”

He hums, brows furrowing, lips pouting, smoke dragging into his lungs.

The cigarette sits perched between two fingers of the hand resting on your knee, his other curled around your waist.

“Some what?”

“Tactic,” you repeat. Watch him blow a puff a smoke, taste his ash at the back of your throat. “Only having one chair, so pretty girls have no choice but to sit in your lap.”

He lets his gaze wander away from the streets below and up to you, sitting pretty in his lap. Like a cat, draped over his thighs.

Nothing but his own rumpled, inside-out shirt to cover your skin.

Bare legs, messed hair, smudged lipstick.

Fingerprint bruises littering your hips, bitemarks etched into your collarbone.

“I gave you a choice,” he speaks with a reservation he didn’t have before, when he’d offered you a ride home from the bar. There’s an etching of something that’s diluting his expressions, sinking him deeper and deeper into his own pensive mind. “You were the one who insisted on sitting on me.”

“You weren’t complaining earlier.”

Nails pinch at your thigh, causing a squeal out of you.

A few birds fly off a nearby wire, a head or two turn in the street below.

They don’t see you, or Javi, or the lack of clothing that sits between you.

“Neither were you. In fact, you were a little busy fucking my fac-”

“Stop!” Your sudden modesty feels unearned, yet that does nothing to stop you from placing your hand over his mouth.

He licks at it, you grimace, he licks again.

Then takes another breath of nicotine, as you wipe the remnants of his spit onto his naked thigh.

When he offers the cigarette your way, you hesitate.

Picture your father, disappointed to see you smoke.

The whiff of Javi’s post-sex smell- muted cologne, matted sweat, burnt ash- steals your senses, reminds you you’ve already done enough to disappoint your father, a cigarette can’t do much damage.

So you let him hold it up to your mouth and inhale it’s poison.

You and Javi were never meant to happen.

Sure, the line had already been crossed weeks ago.

But that was supposed to stay in Vermont, tucked between snowy slopes and wooden cabins. Existing in a timeline separate from your reality, where you are your father’s precious daughter and Javi is his trustworthy colleague and friend, that is where it should have stayed.

And it had, for two weeks. Sixteen days, specifically. 

You’d returned to classes, to sharing lunch breaks with your father in his office, to slowly moving more of your things out the family home and into your new apartment.

And Javi, from what you heard, had returned to keeping civilians safe, to sharing a drink or two with your father at the end of the work week, to flirting with every secretary within a mile radius.

Neither of your crossed paths and, when you nearly did, the other made the effort to turn a corner, shut a door, hide behind a wall.

Until tonight.

Until you ditched your mediocre date, some lame excuse of having a last-minute paper due.

Until you’d gone to console yourself over your failing love life, unknowingly sliding into a bar stool right next to the most desired cop in town.

Until he’d turned to you, tilted his head, and asked “d’you wanna get out of here?”

He’d offered to take you home.

The drive was quiet, tense, until his hand drifted over the gearstick and you dragged it down onto your thigh.

He squeezed.

You inched it further up, till the tips of his fingers brushed at the edge of your dress.

He took the invitation, took a turning towards his own place.

Brought you into his apartment, drowned you in his fountain of kisses, begged you to sit upon his face. He’d made you see stars beneath a roofed sky, eyes rolling so far back they threatened to get stuck there.

With barely a moments recovery from a third blinding orgasm, he dragged you down the expanse of his body, sat you down on his cock and refused to help your overstimulated, puddle-brained self ride him, grinning cunningly with his back pressed against the mattress as you struggled through shaky legs.

Eventually, he tired and launched himself, arms tangling behind your back, feet planted flat behind you, hips fucking up into your battered cunt until you both came to a haltering crescendo.

He’d layed you down to rest, cleaned you of any mess, and then wandered out to his balcony, inviting you to join him when the feeling returned to your legs.

Which brings you here, fifteen minutes later.

“...wouldn’t have to be serious,” he’s speaking, finishing off a sentence you don’t quite catch the start of.

“Huh?”

“This. Us. It could be casual, y’know?” Another puff of smoke slips right through his lips. “If that’s what you’re worrying about… your dad, and all that other stuff. I don’t need a label, not if it means I get to have… We could keep it casual, if that’s what you want.”

It takes a few moments for you to fully register his words, and then a few more to formulate a response.

“Is that what you want?”

He shrugs.

Pulls in another breath of his cigarette.

Stubs it out on the arm of the chair.

And says nothing.

You assume it’s a yes.

Because what else could Javier Peña, notorious womaniser, want with you if not a casual, no-strings-attached permit to sleep with you, as many times as he sees fit, without the risk of losing his job or, worse, his best friend?

Silence falls upon you both.

You twist in his lap.

He tightens his hold.

Within a half’s hour, he’s got your hands white knuckling as they grip the metal bannister of his balcony, his own hands busy pulling your hips back to meet each of his desperate thrusts, not even the cool air of the night enough to soothe the flaming desire that burns between you.

Your stomach twists, your mouth dries, your eyes water at the thought of him out on that balcony now.

Somebody else, some new body sat in your spot, upon his lap as they exchange smoke rings and warm mouths.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think i’m alright

The Laredo sheriff’s department is known best for three things: its lack of parking, its swoon-worthy ex-DEA agent, and its office holiday parties.

Each year, it’s the same.

The station, decked out in decorations.

A Christmas wreath, mistletoe hanging from every doorway, egg-nog and mulled wine.

It’s not just Christmas.

It’s menorahs, and ficus trees, and a statues of different gods.

Each piece of culture, tradition, holiday that makes up the people that inhabit the station, day in and day out, behind desks and in cop cars, filing paperwork and fetching coffees, represented in some way, celebrated.

Each member of staff is encouraged to bring their friends, their family.

Their spouse, their mothers.

Anyone, and everyone, is welcome.

Then there’s the gift exchange, a Secret Santa system, optional for each member of staff.

It’s the part you look forward to most.

Crowding your dad the minute he gets home on the first of December, poking and prodding till he lets it spill who he’s got.

Fishing out a pen, some paper.

Drawing up a list, made of details and anecdotes your father remembers of his target.

Dragging your shop-avoidant father down to the mall, for a day of gift hunting and sweet-tooth indulging.

Getting to watch your father’s coworker open their gift, eyes lighting up as you once again knock the ball out the park and gift them something perfectly tailored to them, winning your dad the spot of top gift-giver year after year.

This year, there was none of that.

No list of pros and cons for each gift option.

No trying to crack just what exactly your dad should gift his person.

No waiting with baited breath to watch them open it, heart racing with that little fear of them not liking it, of you failing.

No, the moment that name fell from your father’s mouth, you knew what he needed to get.

Hinted at it, slightly.

Claimed you’d smelt it on a friend, thought it would be a good idea.

Sipping on some wine and picking at the buffet, you watch him pick up his gift.

Hold it up to his ear, shake it.

Look down at the box, confused, then tear into the wrapping paper.

The whole room stops.

Not really, but it feels like it does, as somewhere across the room Javier Peña holds up a bottle of that damn cologne.

And, when his eyes instinctively find yours, it feels like everything else fades away.

Fades to grey.

It’s just him, and you. The only two within the room, holding a secret too heavy on the tongue to ever speak it aloud.

He knows.

Of course he knows.

Knows you’d watched him spray it on his skin, day in, and day out.

Knows you’d worn it on your own, sunk it deep into your pores after intertwining your souls upon wrinkled sheets.

Knows you’d watch its contents decrease over time, time you’d spent with him.

That bottle of cologne reminiscent of a timer on you both, that morning before the hospital trip becoming the last few sprays he got out of it.

Colour returns to the world that surrounds you as your dad steps into view.

He’s hugging Javi, pathetically tipsy and ignorant to the lipstick stain on his cheek, no doubt ingrained to his skin with how hell-bent he is on having your mother kiss him beneath each mistletoe.

They’re exchanging words you don’t hear, slapping one another on the back.

You turn on your heel, insides twisting as nausea overcomes you at the scene.

The next time you see Javi is hours later.

You’re trying to leave, tempted to take the good old Irish exit and just slip out a back door.

But your parents- ne, your father- are so busy show-ponying you around the room, that you fail to take a single step that goes unnoticed.

“There she is!” Your father calls out, somewhere behind you, as you slip your hand into the arm of your coat. This act sparks outrage, a frown birthing onto his face. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving too.”

You say you’re tired.

He boos, loudly, like he’s not the chief of police and a whole grown adult.

Grabs at you, lovingly, trying to pry the coat out of your hands.

The effort is minimum, and you know he’s only messing around.

You can leave, if you want to, even if he’d rather you stay.

“It’s not even midnight and you two buzzkills are leaving!” He wails, all the while he’s reaching around and helping you slip your other arm into the coat.

That’s when Javi’s face comes into view, over the arch of your dad’s shoulder, sporting a smile and a pair of keys dangling off one finger.

You try your best to counter his smile with your own, though your throat feels dry and your cheeks feel tight.

“I can’t believe I’m being betrayed like this by two of my favourite people!” The smile slips before you can catch it, eyes widening at your father’s words.

Words you’d spent months agonising over the thought of hearing. Picturing the circumstances in which he’d find out. Imagining the horrendous fallout, a red slash over Javier’s reputation. Swearing you’d quit it, quit him, and then winding up tangled in his sheets again, head pressed to his chest, eyes closed in the soundest of sleeps.

Javi plays it cool.

Nudges your dad’s shoulder, shakes his head and tells him to “quit the dramatics, viejo (old man).”

“I gotta head out to my pop’s first thing in the morning, he’s wanting me to help him rewire some of the fences.” Comes out as his excuse, one your dad can’t really argue against.

He knows better than anyone that Javi drops everything for his dad.

Well, better than anyone but you.

Your excuse, however, falls a little short, a consequence of the last minute conjuring of the lie.

“I’ve, uh, got an early class. Don’t wanna flunk out in my last year, right?”

Your dad stares at you.

Your mum stares at you.

Javi stares at you.

And that’s how you know you’re screwed.

“Class? I thought you were on winter break.”

Javi takes the momentary distraction to shrug his coat on, over those broad shoulders.

Shoulders that twist with the rest of him, as he makes space for you in the doorway, nodding you over. Here, he’s saying without really speaking, escape with me.

So you do, tiptoeing past your parents as though, the slower and quieter you move, the less they’ll notice your approach to the exit.

“Oh! Yeah, I- Sorry, I meant that I-”

“The library, it’s still open for the graduate students,” Javi swoops in effortlessly, dragging the spotlight off you.

He takes hold of your jacket, too, slipping the zip into place and dragging it up the length of your torso, over your chest, till it rests snuggly at your sternum.

A little too snug, making each new inhale deeper, harder, practically heaving the air into your lungs.

At least that’s the reason you give yourself.

You don’t get to dwell on it too long, fortunately, for your mother lets out a gasp.

She points, eyes a little widened by excitement, at the both of you and nudges at your father.

“Look!” She tells him, and you watch in confusion as he displays her same reaction, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Then comes the laughter, straight out the depths of your dad’s belly and right to your weak heart, a melody that reminds you so much of easy Sundays and curling up next to him on the sofa, watching kids’ shows that seemed to entertain him more than you.

“Oh that’s just,” he takes a laugh break, doubling over slightly, his own finger joined in pointing at you two, beneath the doorway. “Too perfect!”

Before you can inquire on either of your parents bizarre reactions, Javi’s eyes are staring into your own and pointing upwards.

Wrapped with a red bow and barely hanging onto the door frame with a single strip of tape, a mistletoe stares down at you, two white berries like mini eyes.

When you glance at the agent once more, it’s hard to read what he’s thinking.

His shoulders are tense, his lips are pursed, his brows are furrowed. But, his eyes.

His eyes burn you with an unspoken intensity, a look he should never possess in front of your parents.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You mom, camera in hand, urges you both, a wide grin cast upon her face.

You dad is in no better state, rushing forward to squeeze you both closer, one hand clasped over the back of Javi’s head.

When the once-agent exhales a nerve-striken breath, the warmth of it, of him, hits your neck.

“Dad, c’mon, stop-” you’ve never imagined yourself stuck like this, your mother and father both urging you to kiss a man you spent months tossing and turning in bedsheets with behind their back.

The creatively deviant part of your brain tells you this is how it could be, maybe, in some other life.

Some other life, where Javi’s not a cop, you’re new in town, and you both bump into each other at the grocery store.

Both of you reaching out for the same apple, or box of cereal, or bottle of milk.

Your hands, brushing.

Your eyes, meeting.

He’d charm you, easily as he always has.

Get your number and then, the next day, a date.

One date leading to two, three, four, more dates.

Till you bring him home to meet your parents at last, squeezing his hand tighter when he tries to pry it away as the door opens to your father’s stern face.

It would take a while, you reckon, for your dad to see past the difference in years.

Your mother wouldn’t care, wouldn’t spare a second thought to it, not when she notices how much he makes you laugh and how he can’t keep his eyes off of you in any room you occupy.

This could be your first Christmas together, your parents begging for one sweet photo of you under the mistletoe, before you both head off to spend the rest of the holiday season with Javi’s father.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“C’mon, it’s bad luck not to!” Back in the present, in reality, your dad’s found his way over to your mother’s side. “Peña, just kiss the girl on the cheek for Christ sake, I ain’t gonna bite your head off for it this one time!”

His lips brush your cheek like an autumn breeze.

Gentle, a hint of warmth, a tickle from the wisps of his well-groomed moustache.

“Get a bit closer, you’re not fully in frame!”

The flash goes off on your mother’s camera, and the two give a little cheer, and Javi wraps an arm around your back, squeezing you a little closer.

When all is said and done, your mother’s forcing you both to stare at the camera screen, a perfect picture of the most doomed couple to ever grace this Earth.

Such dramatics in your thoughts reminds you of the copious glasses of prosecco you’d downed throughout the night, and of your intentions to get yourself home before you done something stupid.

Like stand under the mistletoe with your former casual lover, the very same man your father calls for golf matches and March Madness debriefs.

Javi offers you a ride home, an idea your father approves of.

“I’m heading that way anyway, gotta pick up a few things before I drive out to the ranch.”

A part of you thinks he’s lying, wanting any excuse for a moment alone with you, but then that’s the kind of delusions you shouldn’t be feeding into.

You and Javi don’t spend time alone anymore.

You and Javi do not exist together anymore.

Maybe you never did.

“It’s okay, I already called a cab.”

You part ways at the door, your father watching you from inside.

Javi calls your name, before you can take more than a few steps.

For a second, he just looks at you.

Then his arms are pulling you in, and he’s got you right against his steady chest, and he’s resting his head atop your own, arms squeezing tightly at your sides.

“Get home safe.”

He walks away before you can tell him to do the same, the door slamming to his car the last thing you hear as you pull out your phone and call a cab.

It takes twenty minutes for it to appear, in which the rain starts and your clothes get soaked, but all that and the fifteen dollar fare are a cheaper price to pay than the torture of letting Javier Peña drive you home.

Crawl up the stairs, unlock the apartment door, drop your clothes onto the floor.

You find sanctuary under the shower, soap suds and boiling water, a dynamic duo that scrub off any remnants of his skin against yours.

Even as you step out, fully cleaned and towel wrapped around yourself, you catch a hint of his cologne, the very same one you’d made sure your dad picked out for him.

And as you pick your coat off the ground, a distant voice that sounds much like your mother scolding you for leaving such a mess, you notice it.

First, just a little extra weight.

Then, scratchy paper as your hand dives into the left pocket.

The wrapping is haphazard, with an uneven bow tied atop it, but that’s not what matters.

You tear away at it, let the paper fall to the floor at your feet.

Then you’re met with a small box, which you tear open too. 

And find it sitting neatly among balls of yarn, the prettiest, most delicate looking glass bauble.

It’s ribbon a deep green, and it’s centre an image of mountain slopes, backed by a green forest and a valley full of wooden lodges.

It shakes in your grasp, and you spy the snowglobe-esque white foam that dances around within it.

In it’s centre, in bold, italic and green, Vermont.

One more glance in the box.

There’s a note, tucked at the bottom.

You fish it out in one breath, hold it up to read what it says.

Corazón, For your tree. I hope there’s still space.

[alyswritings]

High School Fight

JJ Maybank x daughter!reader

Summary: Y/N gets into a fight at school.

Warnings: mentions of fighting, mentions of groping

a/n: got this from a comment on this post. so it's kind of a part 2, but not really. loved the idea, thank you to the commenter! hope y'all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

JJ is working on his car, just doing a routine check up. John B is over with his 5 year old son, the boy playing in the yard with whatever he can find while the two adults talk.

JJ's sentence is cut off as his phone rings. He quickly wipes the grease off his hands on a bandana and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He frowns at the number, answering it.

"Hello?" He asks.

"Mr. Maybank?" A woman asks.

"Yeah." He says.

"Hi. This is Alexandra Harrington. I'm the secretary at Y/N's school." She explains, though JJ already knows. "We need you to come down to the school and pick up Y/N."

"Why? Is she okay?" JJ immediately grows concerned.

"That would depend on the definition of okay." Alexandra remarks, only worrying JJ more. "She got into a fight and is facing suspension."

"What?" JJ scoffs.

"Please, just come down to the school." Alexandra tells.

"I-- yeah. Yeah, I'll be right there." JJ says before hanging up.

"Everything good?" John B asks.

"I don't know. Y/N got in a fight at school." JJ informs.

"Ooh. Mini Maybank strikes again." John B grins.

"Shut up." JJ rolls his eyes. "I'll see you guys later."

"Later." John B bids, the two doing the pogue handshake. "Come on, buddy!" He calls out to his son.

---

JJ walks into the school, having quickly changed into clean clothes so he wasn't covered in grease. He finds Y/N sitting outside the office, slouched in her seat, her arms crossed over her chest.

There's a boy and girl on the bench next to her, both quietly talking to each other. He notices the bruises and scratch marks on their faces.

"Hey." JJ calls making Y/N sigh. She doesn't respond, which slightly annoys JJ. "Y/N." He sternly calls, putting his hand on top of her head and forcing her head back. He freezes at her black eye, split lip, and the cut on her cheek. "What the fuck?" His tone immediately changes to anger as he cups her chin, moving her head to inspect the injuries better.

"Dad, I'm fi--"

"What the fuck happened?" He questions.

"The principal will explain it." Y/N rolls her eyes. "Stupid bitch." She grumbles under her breath.

"I want your side." JJ says before he goes into the office.

"Mr. Maybank. Wish I was seeing you under better circumstances." The principal says.

"Right. What the hell happened?" JJ questions.

"Your daughter's a little psycho." The mother of the girl sneers.

"Excuse you?" JJ glares at her. "You better watch it, lady, or you're gonna match your kid out there." He threatens. The woman's jaw drops in offense, giving the principal a look.

"Mr. Maybank, relax. Physical violence is not the answer." The principal quickly intervenes.

"Your kid is the one going around and beating up innocents." The father of the boy says.

"No. No, I know my daughter, she's always got a reason. So your kids are the fucking problem." JJ argues.

The other two quickly retaliate, throwing insults about Y/N, the three adults getting into an argument.

"Enough!" The principal shouts, effectively shutting the three up. "Now... we have two stories. Y/N's story and then Jason and Ashley's story."

"Y/N's a little liar." Ashley's mother states.

"You really don't wanna piss me off, lady." JJ seethes, his hand clenching into a fist.

"We don't have any evidence of which story is true, only our beliefs." The principal says. "Jason and Ashley's story is they were trying to talk to Y/N, make plans, and she just lost it and starting hitting them."

JJ scoffs, his eyes rolling into the back of his head out of disbelief.

"And these idiots believe that shit?" JJ asks, pointing to the two parents.

"Excuse you?" The woman glares.

"You wanna say that to my face, pal?" The man sneers.

"Didn't I just do it?" JJ retorts.

The three teens listen from the outside, Y/N's lips quirking up at her father's remarks.

"Calm down." The principal orders. "Now, Y/N's story is Jason was hitting on her and wouldn't leave her alone even after she told him no. She says she didn't throw the first punch until he grabbed her bottom."

"He what?" JJ fumes, using all of his strength to not go beat up the little boy himself.

"She says Ashley was there with him and taunting her, calling her a bitch and insulting her home life along with constantly tripping her and tugging on her hair." The principal explains.

"I'm gonna--" JJ seethes, his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth could break.

"You won't be doing anything, Mr. Maybank. Unless you'd like to go to jail." The principal warns. JJ takes a deep breath, burying his anger.

"So what? She gets in trouble for defending herself?" JJ asks. "That's fucking stupid."

"Defending herself from what?" Jason's dad scoffs. "Jason didn't do anything wrong."

"He disrespected her boundaries. He touched her ass, that's pretty fucking wrong, you dumb fuck!" JJ's voice raises near the end.

"He was being persistent. She was playing hard to get." The guy argues.

"She didn't want him in any way, whatsoever! No means no." JJ states.

"Ashley did no wrong." Her mom insists.

"Aside from being a fucking brat." JJ scoffs making the woman give him an appalled look. "She should also be old enough to know that she should keep her hands to herself. Plus, that golden rule parents are always so insistent about. Nothing nice to say, shut the fuck up. She should learn that rule."

"You do not talk about my daughter that way." The woman sneers.

"She hurt my daughter. I'm not gonna stand for that." JJ says. "Or for your son being a little prick."

"He was just trying to get her attention." The man protests. "Little ass grab never hurt anybody, especially if the girl's a hottie."

Ashley's mother screams when JJ's fist connects with Jason's dad's cheek. The three teens jump at the noise, turning back to see the chaos.

"Mr. Maybank!" The principal yells, rushing over. "Enough! That is enough!" She gets between the two men before they can start a brawl.

"All three children are suspended for two weeks for violating the rules. And unless you want them expelled, I suggest you three take them home and try your best to avoid each other for the rest of your lives. Or at least until these kids graduate."

"If they all graduate." Ashley's mother rolls her eyes.

JJ starts to charge for her, but the principal holds him back.

"I especially advise you to leave, Maybank. For you and your daughter's own good." The principal says.

"No. No, I'm leaving for their own good." JJ points to the other two parents. "Cause if I don't, they're going six feet under a little younger than they anticipate."

The principal sighs as the other two parents start to complain about the threat.

JJ leaves the office, rolling his eyes out of frustration and anger.

"C'mon." He motions for his daughter to get up. He grabs her backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. Y/N gets up, JJ placing his hand on her back to lead her out.

"You're a little bitch, Jason." JJ calls back before the two exit the school.

They get outside and JJ manages to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"You okay?" Y/N asks, looking up at her dad, not sure if she should be amused or concerned or both.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." JJ runs his hand over his head, messing his hair up. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't jeopardize your school like that."

"Not jeopardizing it anymore than I am." Y/N chuckles. "Plus, school system sucks anyway. Don't give too many shits."

"Are you okay?" JJ asks, his concerned father side overtaking him as he observes the injuries on her face. He brushes her hair back to get a better look at them, thumb lightly grazing over the black eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. They look worse." Y/N grins.

"Yes, they do." JJ proudly laughs.

"So, am I grounded?" Y/N asks.

"No. No, you're never grounded for standing up for yourself." JJ reassures. "Ice cream?"

"Rocky road." Y/N immediately lights up making JJ softly smile at her.

"Rocky road it is, princess." JJ promises, kissing her on the head.

He opens the passenger door for her and she climbs in, JJ shutting it after she's in. He throws her backpack into the bed of the truck, going over to the other side and getting in, starting the engine.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @mrvlxgrl @star-wars-lover @champomiel @ironmaiden1313

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓹𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝓫𝐨𝐲 ˚⊹♡

good boy!jake x bad girl!reader content(s): angst, suggestive, jake is called as puppy, reader and jake both fall but jake falls harder, (y/n) is a bad influence but not mean, jake is horrendously down bad to a concerning point, like man’s an actual emotional manipulator too type: oneshot word count: 3.6k

inspired by enhypen’s track, ‘blind’

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ synopsis: in which jake will do whatever it takes to win her heart—even if it means ruining himself ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

(y/n) and jake have that relationship that people don’t really see in real-life but people do write about. they’re a popular trope—though it usually falls in the taboo category. forbidden romance and whatnot.

jake, the university’s heartthrob with astounding grades and cordial personality, always open to making new friends despite his adorable bashfulness.

and then there’s (y/n), uni hottie infamous for her salacious stories on how she beds about anyone she wants both from campus and night clubs across korea, how she shows absolutely no interest in making any real personal connections and rejects all advances. she makes her own rules, carries her own beliefs and does whatever she wants. a maverick.

and yet, jake can’t help but fall for her.

true, he avoided her at first. all those rumours circulating her only scared him, pushing him further away from the girl but fate is funny—and it lead to him crashing on his butt after slipping on a sheet of ice outside the uni and (y/n) was the only one around.

“jake, you cut your palms!” she gasped while holding his hands in hers, gently caressing her thumbs around the fresh wounds.

he winced at the abrupt pain that came only after realizing the existence of the injuries and yet her touch relaxed him, even more so when she blew on them as an attempt to rid off any dust.

“you know my name,” jake murmured and she looked at him, bewildered almost, before she let out a titter.

“in this place, it’ll be weirder if i didn’t.”

and at that very moment, hearing her laugh, seeing her genuine smile, jake felt something shift within him. petals seemed to flutter around her as the air slowed, noises muffled and pink tinted his vision.

it’s love at first sight.

and it grew more and more as they exchanged greetings in the hallways until eventually, he managed to find a place beside her. she never lets him mingle with her crowd though, always keeping him at a safe distance.

but it doesn’t matter to him, not when the only one he wants and needs is her, and only her.

—

“i’m bored,” (y/n) groans as she rolls onto her back on jake’s bed, head hanging off the edge while her legs fold so knees point to the sky.

the owner of the room grins. he glances over his shoulder to look at her before focusing back on his assignment sitting on the desk. “yeah? how about you play my games? or paint your nails? i bought some new shades i think you’ll like.”

“really?? you’re so sweet, puppy!” she exclaims and lands a surprise peck on his cheek which makes his heart explode and gears malfunction—now unable to think for his work.

he watches from the corner of his eye as she takes the pretty storage box he got just for her and filled it with things catered to her liking.

“hey, how about i paint your nails?” she then, suggests and he turns his face fully towards her right as she does the same to him. “you okay with that?”

jake bobs his head, already excited, evident from the big grin on his face and shortly after, they’re both sitting across one another on the bed. a mini study table is unfolded between them with the nail polish box and his hands resting on top.

“so, what colour does my client want today?” (y/n) asks, suddenly playing as a nail artist and jake chuckles.

“what does the artist suggest?”

“hmm~ judging from your cute face and sweet personality,” she starts and throws in a wink, unaware that that one gesture sends his heart jumping. “maybe something bright but not neon! like, sunny yellow or sky blue. some sparkles maybe?”

the customer ponders over her suggestions before making a choice. “black. i’d like to have my nails painted black.”

“black?” (y/n) echoes with confusion. “that’s the complete opposite of what i told you.”

jake shows off his pearly whites cheekily. “black matches with everything.”

“alright. what the puppy wants, puppy gets,” the girl shrugs and takes out the chosen shade. a comfortable silence embraces them as he stares at her like a lovesick boy—which he is.

he loves everything about this moment, especially the part where her attention’s all on him—well, his nails but still, a part of him. he also loves how he can admire her for as long as he wants without getting scared of being caught.

seeing how her lashes flutter at the movements of her eyes, how her brows knit slightly at every mistake and how her lips pucker and roll between her teeth from concentration.

jake’s eyes linger on her lips, breathing starting to slow and deepen as he watches her tongue dart out to leave a sheen on the soft skin.

his breath hitches and faster than he can even think, he leans forward to steal a kiss. (y/n) whips her head up at him when he pulls back, surprise painted across her face before she breaks out into the loveliest smile he’s ever laid eyes on.

it’s a familiar smile, one she always wears whenever she’s pleasantly amused, which is often with jake. and yet her smile keeps getting prettier and prettier, more endearing and breathtaking than the last.

“is that payment? i haven’t even finished painting,” (y/n) comments as she finishes the last nail on his right hand and closes the polish to keep it fresh.

jake nods his head, going along with her script but instead of replying, he leans in once more, eyes flickering from hers to her rosy nubs and who’s she to deny his kisses?

he smiles against her lips and easily discards the barrier between them, sliding the small desk aside before wrapping his arms around her figure. their tongues collide and he moans quietly as his blood rushes with excitement.

he tightens the hold, effectively trapping her before gently lowering her to his mattress. he pulls away just as he moves his hands to her sides, propping himself up to hover the girl who’s pinned underneath him.

(y/n) instantly brings her hands up to his hair—combing his overgrown bangs away from his face to see him gazing down at her with pure endearment and tenderness swirling in his eyes. “your hair’s getting long, huh? gonna cut it?”

“no…” he says quietly and nuzzles into the crook of her neck, taking in that sharp yet alluring fragrance of her perfume. “i’ll keep it long so you can play with it.”

she almost snorts at his reasoning but settles with pecking his cheek. “yeah, right. like it’s not because you’re the one who actually wants me to.”

jake giggles, hot breath against her skin making her shudder and he revels in the effect he has on her.

he wants more.

licking his lips, he starts peppering wet kisses on the side of her neck before gradually traveling to the other side and lower. small breathy whimpers emit from the girl whose heartrate quickens at the abrupt shift in mood.

the tension in the room is thick. both of them tangled on the sheets, panting with desire searing through their veins like molten lava as jake continuously laps on her skin like a parched man—pressing himself against her impossibly closer, wanting to feel everything of her.

“jake…” (y/n) breathes out before gulping thickly and her fingers involuntarily curl around his dark locks when he suddenly nips at her collarbone.

a groan rumbles through his chest, eyes closing at the pleasurable sting on his scalp as he quickly swipes his tongue on the bitten spot. “i love you, (y/n). i love you so much.”

his abrupt profession instantly slaps her back to reality and she yanks his head back, eliciting a whine from him as a shiver runs down his spine. she meets his gaze that’s transfixed on her, half-lidded and dazed like he’s intoxicated as he lets out ragged breaths.

“i have to go,” she curtly says before pushing him off and he sits on his heels—following her with his eyes round and confused as she moves in his room.

“wait, (y/n). y-you haven’t finished my nails,” he tries to get her to stay as he climbs off his bed to tail after her.

she shakes her head, refusing to turn and face him. “i’ll do it some other day.”

“s-still. stay longer,” he mewls, voice airy and cracking as it dawns on him that her sudden departure is probably due to his advances.

she doesn’t want him. he knows that.

whenever they make out, it’s always her taking the lead, always her holding the rails and deciding when to start and stop. and even then, she doesn’t let anything go too far—always stopping whenever he starts to want more, leaving him craving and in need.

leaving him feeling empty when he sees her with her lips on that freaking rich boy yoon-oh who’s uselessly molded like a freaking sculpture.

pouring salt into his wounds when she starts slipping her hands below yoon-oh’s shirt and letting him do the same to her—giggling so cutely through it all.

jake can only watch from afar with fists tight and jaw clenched before he walks away with nothing but a dry feeling in his throat, chest heavy and constricted that it’s hard to even breathe.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do it again,” jake quickly apologizes, voice small as he circles around her to block the door. his hands tremble as they reach up for her shoulders but he promptly retracts them. “don’t leave just yet…please.”

(y/n) halts and finally looks at him. “jake, this was all a mistake. i have to leave.”

“mistake?” jaeyun repeats as the colours on his face drain.

“you’re not supposed to like me that way. whatever between us is meant to be casual, no strings attached. so, i’m leaving,” the other elaborates and tries to push him aside but is halted by his hand that wraps around her wrist.

it loosens just as quickly as he grips, not wanting to push any more boundaries. “…don’t. please.”

he starts off quietly, pleadingly, and chews on his bottom lip before continuing. “then, let me be the one to love you. y-you don’t have to do the same—you don’t have to be mine! just let me be…yours. yours, to you and let me love you. can i not?”

drop!

(y/n)’s eyes shift to the tear droplet on his tile, watching it glint under his fluorescent light before focusing back on his face to see streams below his eyes carrying the same gleam.

“don’t cry for me. it’s useless,” she hisses and instantly feels an agonizing tug within her, demanding her to repent day and night in every second, every breath, for hurting such a sweet soul such as jaeyun. “we never should’ve met.”

her last comment comes out as a low whisper, almost incomprehensible but the other catches it perfectly. and the pain that follows after is excruciating—tearing whatever spirit is left of him and he sobs.

choking on his own breath, he inhales and exhales heavily, chest heaving as he shakes his head side to side.

“i’ll never regret,” he claims, nothing short of conviction, although his voice shakes at every syllable and he roughly wipes his eyes with a single swipe of his sleeve. he wheezes raggedly as he swallows forcefully. “at least…tell me why. why not me? i thought—thought you liked me.”

(y/n)’s own tears threaten to burst seeing him so tattered as he struggles to speak between his violent breaths. but she needs to make this clear. final.

“you and i, we’ll never work out,” she begins and takes it a step further by grabbing his face tightly and dragging him down. her brows knit seeing him flinch at the rough motion but she doesn’t stop—only putting on her facade of indifference once more. “people like you are too…good. and i hate that. i liked you for your face, for your naive, foolish obedience but i don’t intend to keep you. i loathe people like you.”

her statement makes him gasp, eyes widening instantly as his chewed, swollen lip fall from between his teeth, finally halting himself from abusing it any further. it’s like the world has turned completely still. his ears deafened, noise in his mind silenced, his breaths hitched as all he can see and comprehend is (y/n)’s scorn and furthering figure.

by the time he’s collected himself, he’s alone in his room that feels significantly empty, tranquil, and yet…bleak.

—

“it’s her. she’s back,” one whispers.

“dang, she’s as hot as ever,” another whistles quietly.

(y/n) frowns and rolls her eyes. ‘what is this? high school?’

she just took a year off, hoping that her absence will make jake’s feelings for her to fade but she didn’t expect for people to gossip about her like she’s some new meat. she’s old news, it’s not like people don’t already know her.

“should’ve just stayed away honestly. she’s just gonna be a bad influence,” another hisses and their friend scoffs.

“look at what happened to jake.”

at this, (y/n) freezes completely and head turns to the speaker, eyes fixed solely on the pair of friends as she strides to them. “what do you mean? what happened to jake?”

and as if on cue, a door opens and students come filing out excitedly, ready for lunch and among them is a strikingly handsome man with dark hair grown to almost reach his lower neck, half of them tied up in a ponytail while bangs part in the middle and frame his face beautifully. its center part pulled to be a part of those tied back.

adorning his eyes are grey contacts and right down the center of his bottom lip rests a silver lip piercing that caters to his habit of sticking out his tongue—letting him play with it.

he’s dressed in all dark—black and dark grays—and baggy clothes that only add more appeal to his skin tone and his face is radiant.

yet at the same time, he’s unrecognizable to (y/n). his aura is vastly different although, she can’t quite tell from his appearance alone. she might just be dramatic. maybe he found a different taste in fashion?

she must’ve been staring too long, hypnotized, because jake suddenly stops in his tracks, ignoring his friend to instead turn towards her direction—eyes widening when seeing her.

and he instantly starts approaching with large, calculated strides. his gait so confident and sharp that others naturally part for him until he stands in front of the girl who almost gawks at him.

now closer, the sentiment is more vivid. the aura he emanates is…him and yet at the same time, an enigmatic undertone is present. something more…dangerous. is that the right term to call it?

“(y/n)?” he asks, eyes wandering on her face and figure as if to make sure she’s not a figment of his imagination. a sick image his brain’s pulled up just to mess him up further and deeper like it has been in the past year. but from the look of shock and perplexity on her face, he knows it’s her.

a grin of both unbridled relief and excitement stretches on his face, ear to ear before he crushes the girl in his arms.

“you’re back! you’re finally back! i knew you would…i knew it,” he whispers into her hair as his hand gently holds the back of her head while the other’s tight around her waist.

(y/n) remains frozen, a sense of nostalgia flooding within her but she quickly shoves him off just to shoot him a sharp look. others might think she’s angry, but jake knows better. she’s concerned and puzzled. “what are you even talking about? i left you!”

“yeah,” he replies chirpily, hands in his pockets as he tilts his head at the girl with a beam. him and his cute face. “and you came back. that’s all that matters. ooh! come! i have to show you something!”

she’s dragged away to an empty lecture room before she can even refuse and jake backs her against the wall before pulling down his bottom lip. her eyes widen the moment she sees her name tattooed on the red, wet tissue and she looks up at him, incredulous.

“are you insane?? why would you get that? that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever seen, jake,” she chides, voice laced with fury as glare stares daggers yet, the other only watches her with hearts dancing in his eyes. “you’re so… ugh. you know what? it’s passed. did it hurt?”

jake nods, pouting and lowers himself so his forehead rests on her shoulder, rubbing on her. “like craaazyyy~”

(y/n) gulps, trying to restrain herself from just melting at his cute whine, knowing full well that’s exactly what he’s aiming for.

“but you know, after you left, nothing really felt like anything anymore…” he murmurs melancholically and she feels a tightness in her chest yet, she remains stoic—until she feels his teeth grazing the side of her neck before a soft nibble.

she flinches, holding his shoulders but doesn’t have the heart to push him away. “sim jaeyun! what on earth are you doing??”

“you abandoned your puppy for so long, he’s upset. he’s mad,” jake grumbles and nips at her skin, earning him a gasp and his tongue darts out to soothe the spot. but the emotions quickly flood in again, which prompts another bite and lick. and this goes on and on with his emotions in a constant tumultuous cycle.

“jake,” (y/n) feebly says as her fortitude begins to crumble and finally pushes him back to an arm’s length. she expects to see him pouting, maybe frowning in disagreement and yet, what greets her is a giggly jaeyun with a loopy grin. she breathes in, about to retort at his behavior but stops at a familiar smell. “are you drunk?”

“noooo,” he drags his word and lets out another giggle as he pecks her nose, finding her rounded eyes and lips a cute expression on her. “maybe…i had a teeny sip.”

a scoff of perplexity escapes the girl. jake’s never drank before. even when she ordered chicken and beer, he never drinks—always having a separate non-alcoholic beverage for himself. and yet now he’s drunk?? on a school day??

“this is unbelievable,” she mutters underneath her breath before holding his hand to drag him to the door. “we’re getting you sobered up. how did no one notic—”

“i’m not going,” he stubbornly says and wraps his arms around her—a secure yet most soft of holds that even his fingers occasionally hover her skin as if she’d shatter. “if i do…you’ll just leave me again.”

(y/n) frowns at his defiance. “what?”

jake’s reticence shines through, especially so with his attempt to divert her attention by brushing his lips against the side of her head but not bold enough to lay them yet. “you’ll only stay if i’m hurt. just like the first time we met and even now. you’re worried about me, afraid that i’d get in bigger trouble.”

his observation is spot on—something that even (y/n) didn’t notice beforehand—and she swallows dryly. “that doesn’t mean you can walk around campus all drunk.”

“you made me this way!” he raises his voice although it merely comes off in a choked sob. his eyes wet the fabric on her shoulder as he rests himself there. “i thought i was your puppy boy…and i always will be. look, i even grew out a leash for you… my hair will be so much easier for you to grab a-and, it will be so much better to play with.”

as he continues his excruciating desperate pleas, (y/n) can only think of three recurring thoughts.

‘he’s right.’

‘i made him this way.’

‘i…ruined him.’

and it is with these credos that she finally realizes that jake can never be restored to how he was—not without her. her one year absence have lead to vast changes already. if she is to spend longer…the thought itself frightens her.

his wispy whispers halt with an almost unheard gasp when he feels her fingers play with the hair on his nape before they travel up to gently grasp on his small ponytail.

pupils dilate instantly as they make contact with her face and the sight of her smile makes his heart race as he sees hope—rekindling his excitement for life especially now, a life with her.

“okay. be my loyal puppy, she surrenders quietly and his pearly whites appear at his beam. his face glows and arms squeeze around her shoulders as he pulls her into his chest.

“thank you, (y/n)! i’ll be your most loyal, most loving pup!” he exclaims—nuzzling his cheeks against the side of her head. “i love you so much.”

those three words that previously struck her like a knife to the chest are now bearable. desirable and sweet even, and they will her to reciprocate.

“i love you too, jake.”

her unforeseen reply brings tears to his eyes once more and he presses his lips onto her crown, a gesture that lingers and leaves a pleasantly burning warmth as he practically buzzes with relief and delight.

he's going to make sure (y/n) won't need anyone else beside him anymore. he agreed with being her pup for now but sooner or later, she'll realise how much better he is than anyone else, how strong and reliable he is. he can take care of both him and her, and he's going to convince her one day that he's not the weak-willed, goodie-two-shoes guy she thinks he is.

he’ll make sure of it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ bambi (heeseung ver.), you, a lucid dream (jongseong ver.), skater boy (sunghoon ver.)

𝜗𝜚 disclaimer: i do not condone any reckless behaviour portrayed in this work. this is entirely fiction and does not depict the member's real personality. if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog—they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[obsessedelusional]

Bella’s Streamer Girlfriend

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x fem!reader

summary ✦ Bella is exhausted from their constant travel for work. As her partner who just so happens to be a famous streamer you suggest they move in with you. What happens when Bella accidentally goes live showing you streaming? this is a request

word count ✦ 2,202

authors note ✦ hope y’all enjoy appreciate everyone one of you ilyyyyyy

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

“Why don’t you just move in with me?” You suggest, a thought you’ve had for several months now just now finally making it out into existence. Bella had been fretting over how tiring all the travel has become.

“What?” Bella asks.

“Well we’ve been dating for two years and you’re always here anyways so..” Your voice trails off thinking you’ve said too much.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I mean there’s not much room but we’ll figure it out. We can move my stream set up into the guest bedroom.” Bella doesn’t respond fast enough causing you to panic. Before you can ramble some more or even worse take it back she responds.

“Yes.” Bella says nodding her head.

“Yes? Like yes you want move in with me?”

“Yes.” She grins softly realizing what she’s just agreed to. Bella closes the distance between you two throwing her arms around your waist. Hugging you, slightly elevating you from the ground emitting laughter from you.

“How wicked? I get to live in LA with my beatuiful streamer girlfriend?”

—

Bella was the first to make a move two years ago. After finding out they got the role of Ellie in The Last of Us tv adaptation they poorly attempted to play the game. After failing the first part several times they opened YouTube. Your video of you playing the original game long ago is the first one.

Their attraction to you is immediate. Binging your videos lead to a follow on instagram. No idea who Bella Ramsey was but you followed back anyways seeing they were verified. Finding them attractive and your beliefs aligning with theirs so proudly displayed on their profile. Bella is silent with their crush on you until one fateful day.

An interview after Bella’s announced to play Ellie:

“Fans are so excited to see this iconic game come to life on television. Did you know anything about the game before your audition?”

“I knew of it. Like I had heard about it before but I never played it myself.” Bella responds to the interviewer.

“Have you played it yet?”

“No. I tried to but I’m not really a gamer. I played the first twenty minutes before giving up and watching gameplay.”

“Gameplay?”

“Yeah uh this girl on YouTube. Her name is Y/N. Shout out to her cause I watched her play the game. She’s a twitch streamer. She was so good at the game and she’s really…” Bella’s stops talking mid sentence as they realize they’ve said too much.

—

It’s an late night as you live stream. Just chatting with viewers before you hop into the lobby when your feed gets flooded with comments about Bella talking about you.

“Bella Ramsey? Sounds familiar. What did they say?” Your busy scrolling through chat and racking your brain trying to connect the dots.

“It’s Ellie Williams in the tv adaptation.” You say out loud reading a chat. One of your mods sends you the link so you can react to it live on your stream.

“Should I watch it? Everyone’s saying yes. Okay I will react to it.” The link opens up to a YouTube video of a zoom meeting type interview. As the video plays you recognize the short haired brunette as the random famous person that followed you on instagram months ago.

“There’s no way. I didn’t know they were playing Ellie.” You smile watching your screen not paying much attention to chat. It gets to the point where Bella mentions watching gameplay instead of actually playing the game.

“Yeah uh this girl on YouTube. Her name is Y/N.” Bella says in the video.

“That’s me!” You shout, pausing the video. Pressing play when you’re done freaking out.

“Yeah uh this girl on YouTube. Her name is Y/N. Shout out to her cause I watched her play the game. She’s a twitch streamer. She was so good at the game and she’s really…” Bella doesn’t finish their sentence, eyes go wide and their the one to quickly change the subject.

“And really what? What am I Bella?” You pause reading chat. People letting you know all the things you are.

“User2643556 says I’m beautiful, sexy, and amazing. Am I Bella?” You tease, your tone innocent yet flirty.

“Oh what about this Justin says I’m a stupid wanna be gamer. Plus a few other bad words I won’t be reading.” You laugh, watching as your mod kicks them.

“But seriously Bella! And what? What am I? I must know.”

The next day you wake and first thing you do is check your phone, a daily morning ritual. The first notification is from an instagram dm from a verified account, you have to rub the sleep out of your eyes just too make sure your reading it correctly.

Bella: I was gonna say cute but beautiful sexy and amazing works too xx

After your done freaking out you respond with a thank you and a winking emoji. To your surprise Bella continues to message you, you two communicate for a week over instagram dm before Bella gives you their number. The conversation usually flirty filled with getting to know each other. Empty promises to meet in the near future.

—

A handful of die hard The Last of Us fans who all had fairly large followings were invited to the premiere. You being one of them, which came to you as a surprise because you had played the game but there were far more bigger fans out there. You were excited for the opportunity nonetheless. A large part of you more excited at the chance to see Bella.

“We’re so glad you could make it.” The shows social media manager, Victoria who had initially invited you says.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Bella they were adamant on you being here.”

“Oh okay, will do.” You smile, ignoring the fact that if it wasn’t for Bella you wouldn’t be here. Anxiety growing at the thought that Bella wanted you here. How at any moment you’d finally meet her.

After the viewing of the the pilot you are sat with the rest of the influencers invited in the panel room. Cheers notify you that the stars of the show arrived, Bella and Pedro. Your watching Bella as people converse with them. They’re not paying much attention eyes are wondering around the room hopefully looking for you, you think. Smiling ear to ear as they make eye contact with you. Bella had wanted to greet you on the spot but they weren’t aloud to veer from the schedule.

The cast make their way to the stage. Craig and Neil are the first to speak. Thanking everyone for coming and supporting the whole project. Then the cast are asked questions. Too enamored with Bella you don’t touch your food, too nervous to eat. They often sneak a look towards you smiling when they catch your attention.

To your disappointment you don’t get a chance to see Bella. She’s rushed to her table where she eats with the main cast. Then when it’s over she’s guided to somewhere behind the scenes your not aloud. You wait longer than you should have before deciding to book an Uber to take you home.

Your stood outside the building waiting for your Uber, sulking in your own sadness. The night not going how you imagined at all.

“Uber for Y/N?” Your driver speaks breaking your thoughts.

“Yeah sorry.” You walk towards the car ready to just go home and crawl into bed. Before you can open the door your phone vibrates, it’s Bella.

“Where are you?” Bella says as soon as you pick up.

“I’m getting in a Uber right now.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s over. I’m going home.” You hear heavy footsteps, looking back you see Bella running towards you phone up to her ear.

“Then I’m coming with you.” Bella says into the phone only a few feet away from you.

“Are you inviting yourself over?” You laugh.

“Oh fuck I didn’t mean to come off like that I just didn’t want to-“ Bella hangs up on you, now talking to you instead.

“Can’t believe you’d hang up on me.” You cut them off, laughing at the fact that the two of you were conversing over phone while stood so close.

“I feel like a real dick head. I tried so hard to get away from tonight’s responsibilities but they wouldn’t let me. You have no idea how badly I wanted to get away from it all and be with you tonight. I want to make it up to you.” Your cute moment gets interrupted by the Uber driver telling you he’s going to leave if you don’t get in already. When you go to open the door Bella assumes the worst.

“You coming?” You ask, returning the smile to Bella’s face as she climbs in with you. The drive to your place is filled with apologies and sneaking glances at each other. Bella doesn’t leave your apartment till the next morning, up till 4 am just talking. Feelings grow and laughter is shared. Bella is the one to kiss you before they leave making plans to meet again.

—

Bella moving in has been great. It’s only been a week but waking up and going to sleep next to the person you love every night is better than you could of possibly imagined.

You stream five days a week, leaving the weekend for yourself and Bella now. Originally your set up is in your bedroom, using your bed as your backdrop. Moving into the guest bedroom has been great. Creating a whole new look for your stream and having a lot more space. The other half of the room filled with Bella’s miscellaneous boxes.

Bella has yet to get used to your work schedule. Normally when they visited you’d take a break from streaming or do it while they were off working. Now that you live together, you had to work. So often Bella would interrupt unknowingly. Apologizing quietly as they walked back out of the room. Your chat taking quick notice of your smile and lovingly stare as you told Bella it’s okay, wondering who it could possibly be.

—

“Can you hear me?” Bella asks turning on her instagram live.

“Uhh yes it is I see your comments now.” Bella gets comfortable, reading comments out loud. Shouting out people as they asked.

“Ok the whole reason for this live. I just wanted to give some life updates. First I uhh moved to California.” She admits reading chat for a moment before responding.

bellaramzeee13: I thought you hated la

ramseyfantlou: NO Bella’s gonna change ):

thelastofbella: the uk will misss you

“I promise I’m not going to change. Some things just happened and I decide it’s best for me to live out here. Ya know? Closer to opportunities and other things… anyway thought I’d come on here and unpack with everyone.” Bella stands up from where they’re sat thinking your out for the day with your friends. Heading into your steaming room, switching the camera to the back camera ready to show the giant pile of boxes.

“This is where all my stuff is,” Bella is going on not realizing your sat in your desk live as well.

“What’re you doing?” You ask startling her so her phone lands on your just long enough for people to realize it’s you. Bella’s quick to stuff her phone in her pocket live still going.

“I’m sorry I thought you were with your friends already.” Bella’s panic has your worried.

“It’s okay that’s not till later. I’ll be right back guys.” You say to your chat switching to your I’ll be right back screen. You follow Bella out of the room into the living room.

“I was on instagram live.”

“Did you show me?” You ask.

“I dunno.” Bella pulls their phone out it now on the front facing camera, you laugh seeing your reflection on insgram live.

“Bella it’s too late your still live.” Your laughing harder than before. Bella’s worried faced fills the live and your laughter in the background.

bellsram01: YOUR DATING HER???!!

sarabeez: NO WAY

elliewilliams22627: wait why do I kinda ship it

justbellaaaaa: bella I think I actually want your girlfriend more

“Should I get off?” Bella asks you.

“If you don’t want to. It’s okay.” Bella sets their phone down using some clutter on the kitchen counter to created a diy tripod.

“Guess it’s out,” Bella laughs. You move into frame, leaning closer to read more comments. Laughing at all the funny ones, reading them out loud. Answering a few questions about your relationship.

“Well I got to go attend to my steam I was so rudely interrupted.” You sigh dramatically.

“If y’all want more of me I’m on twitch right now.” You smile for the camera.

“Are you trying to steal my viewers?” Bella looks at you shocked.

“Absolutely yes babe.” You tease, before planting a small kiss on their cheek before leaving bella alone in the kitchen. Bella reads more chat as everyone freaks the fuck out.

“I guess you all know the real reason why I moved to the states.”

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

Jeff's Valentine

Summary: Natasha and R go on a Valentine's Day date without Jeff, leaving a very upset landshark in Yelena's care.

Word Count: 3086 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader Warnings: Nat and Yelena threatening each other, some romcom bashing, otherwise it's all just fluff :) A/N: It's been a few months since the last entry to the JFU, but everyone's favourite landshark is back :) I hope you all enjoy and, despite the title, it's quite light on the actual romance part. Also this isn't proofread.

Part of The Jeff Fictional Universe

Jeff mumbled tiredly, finally settled into bed for the night. You’d kept him active all day, taking him to the beach, buying him treats, and giving him all of your time overall which, to Jeff, made your next betrayal even worse.

The landshark hadn’t settled into his own bed that night – despite the plethora of options he had – he’d made himself comfortable on yours, which meant waiting for you and Natasha to settle down before he could go to sleep. He groaned again, but neither of you took the hint, both of you continuing your conversation as if he hadn’t interrupted.

“It’s going to be the perfect day,” Jeff heard you promise. Natasha reached out to cup her hand around the side of your face; since neither of you were even looking at him, Jeff huffed once more and stomped around the bed, clearing the space for him to flop suddenly into a curled-up ball. 

“Just the two of us,” you continued. Jeff faced away from you, if you weren’t sleeping soon then there was no point in him staying up.

“Not even Jeff.” The amphibious creature took some issue at that. Gone was his prior sleepy state and in its place – a whole new readiness to fight. What did you mean ‘not even Jeff’? Where would he be? What day could be perfect without him?

You glanced briefly at the agitated shark, but your attention was soon drawn away when Natasha propped herself up on one elbow. Jeff relaxed too, confident in the belief that his other parent would step in to defend him… until she didn’t. What she did do was turn your head back to face her, then leaned in to kiss you.

“I’ll trust your plans, love,” she smirked, “afterall, it can’t be worse than that Valentine’s a couple of years back.”

“In Paris?” you hummed, “romantic destination at least.”

“For the couples who choose to go there, maybe, not the ones on last minute missions. You almost bled to death.”

“Oh, yeah. Getting stabbed isn’t in the plans tomorrow though, don’t you worry.”

“Mmmm, good. I can’t wait to see what is. Goodnight Y/N, and goodnight Jeff.”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff responded, scathingly, though Natasha didn’t know it. He felt somewhat content in his action of wishing you both a bad night, but still fumed from the end of the bed at the fact you had planned activities without him. He vowed never to forget this betrayal and, as he fell asleep, planned to take vengeance in the morning until you reconsidered your plans.

By morning, all was forgotten. Jeff had never had the best memory, but his anger was about to be reignited.

Natasha prised herself slowly and carefully out of bed, taking caution not to wake you as she did so. Unfortunately, that meant walking further away from the bed than usual on her route to the door, and closer to Jeff's corner bed – which he'd retired to midway through the night.

“Mrrrr,” he grumbled, his sleep now disturbed.

“Sorry Jeff.”

Jeff didn’t forgive Natasha with the apology, but he was curious as to what she was up to, so stood up and stretched before padding after her. After slipping through the door, he continued to follow the assassin as she muttered some sort of recipe; he perked up significantly when he realised her destination was the kitchen.

The land shark bounded to her side, purring and butting against Natasha’s legs to attract her attention.

“I’m making pancakes for Y/N, Jeff, do you want to help?”

“Mrrrr!”

Natasha stared at him blankly. “I’ll assume that was a yes,” Jeff heard her mutter, then he was hoisted into the air and deposited on the kitchen counter. “You have to wash your hands first though.”

The redhead shuffled away while Jeff hopped into the sink, where he sat and nudged the tap on in order to wash his hands and his feet and, well, practically his entire body in the end. 

Eventually, he flipped the water back off and fell back to sit with all four legs stretched out in front of him, so that he could show his clean hands to Natasha.

“Very good, Jeff,” she approved, “you can help now that you're clean.”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff beamed.

“Why don't you just sit there while I finish off the batter, then I'll make you one and you can taste test. Sound good?”

“Mrrrrr!” 

“Yeah, thought you'd like that.”

Natasha hurried around for a few seconds more, whisking the bowl until she felt content. Jeff, meanwhile, grew impatient, so grabbed a saucepan from the side and dragged it along the counter, onto the stove, which he then switched on.

Natasha frowned at the action, while Jeff flopped back into his hind legs and grinned incidentally. “I'm not sure how you know how to do that,” she muttered, “but thanks Jeff.”

“Mrrrr!”

As the redhead got to work, Jeff didn't take his eyes off the batter: from the final bit of mixing, to the pouring, to the misshapen thing in the pan, Jeff knew his mission.

“Mrrrr!” he alerted a few moments later. Natasha had gone off to prepare a tray for you, leaving Jeff worried that she would forget about his pancake and feed it to him burnt. She had previous.

At Jeff's alert though, Natasha came running back over to hastily flip the pancake. She patted Jeff's head in gratitude for his warning, knowing she would have burnt it otherwise. She had previous. Then returned to her set up.

Finally, Jeff's pancake was done, and Natasha served it to him with a wide smile. “Look, it's your face, Jeff!”

Jeff looked down, then back at her, then at his reflection in the kitchen sink. He did not resemble this beige blob, but no matter, he could still engulf it, so he did.

“How is it?”

In truth, Jeff didn't have it in his mouth long enough to notice a taste, but he grinned and gave a thumbs up anyway, setting Natasha into action. She began to pour vaguely heart shaped servings into the pan, which Jeff monitored, as Natasha never seemed to know when to turn them. Together, they produced a good stack of heart shaped pancakes which she carried up to serve you in bed.

Jeff followed her upstairs and hurried around to your side of the bed to stare and beg for food, which you sneakily provided, until it was time for you and Natasha to get up and ready for the day. 

You dressed yourself, picked out clothes for Natasha, and even grabbed some of Jeff's things, giving him hope that he would be accompanying the two of you. The feeling was exacerbated when you called him to the car and strapped him into his car seat. His excitement grew and grew… until he realised that he recognised the roads you drove down; he'd been to this place before.

“My favourite nephew!” 

Jeff wagged his tail politely, but turned to you pleadingly. As excited as he was to see Yelena, all he really wanted was to stay with his parents, which he knew wouldn’t be happening if they’d brought him here; he would be left all day, at the very least. While Natasha thanked Yelena again for taking him, Jeff pulled at the ends of your trousers, drawing your attention just so he could whine and plead to you with wide, watery eyes.

“Jeff, you usually love it here,” you crouched down to his level and whispered. His eyes seemed to be getting larger and sadder by the second, so you ducked your head, knowing any more of this and you’d fold to his wishes. “I’ll be back tonight, I promise.”

“Mrrrr.”

“Nat and I are going to be doing couple-y stuff, and you don’t want to be around that, do you?”

“I wouldn’t”

“We know, Yelena.”

“The land shark is better with me,”

“That’s why he’s here, Yelena.”

You ignored the sibling bickering and turned back to Jeff. “Yelena is right, buddy, you’ll have a great day here with her and Fanny, then we’ll be back to pick you up before you know it!”

He whined again but, with great difficulty, you turned away to follow Natasha out of the door, ready to begin the date you’d spent weeks planning. You could practically feel Jeff’s teary eyes boring into your back, so you didn’t dare turn around, knowing you could never leave that sight behind.

Yelena could put up with a lot – The Red Room had put her through a lot – but this day with Jeff had somehow managed to find and push at her limit. You'd been gone for an hour now, but Jeff still sat at the front door, right where you left him, crying and scratching and howling in displeasure. 

She hadn't seen Jeff this distraught since the day they first met, and that was not an event anyone wanted a repeat of. 

“Can you talk to him?” she asked Fanny when the crying got too much to bear. The dog told her head but, after a pointed finger from Yelena, made her way towards the mopey land shark. She wasted no time and judged Jeff harshly for his attention, before springing forward with her front half lowered playfully to the ground.

“Mrrrr,” Jeff pouted, though already noticeably less melancholy. Fanny barked and jumped towards him. Jeff growled, then sprang up, running in circles around the living room to goad the Akita into chasing him. They played like that for several minutes, while Yelena breathed a sigh of relief and settled back into the sofa, glad the whines had finally given way to playful yaps; they were much more manageable.

The two animals did eventually calm down though and, when Fanny went to lay at her owner's side, Jeff followed, climbing into the Widow’s lap rather than snoozing on a hard wooden floor.

“Hello Jeff”

“Mrrrr.”

“You are happy now?”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff shrugged, He glanced to the door, then back at Yelena, before his features drooped.

“They are celebrating Valentine’s Day,” Yelena told the shark patiently, watching his face for any indication of how he felt about it.

“Means they do lot of romantic things together. Couples do. But they must leave you behind because they are a couple, and you are not.”

Jeff frowned and shuffled on Yelena’s lap until his hands were freed. “Alone,” he signed, then pointed to himself.

“Yes, in a dating sense, but so am I. It is not so bad to be alone.”

“Couple. Join them?”

“Double dates are an option, but-”

Jeff cut her off, signing urgently, “You. Me. Couple.”

“Us?”

Jeff nodded.

“I am flattered, Jeffrey Landshark, but we are too far apart in ages, and different species; I don't date anyone even of my own species.”

Jeff looked down dejectedly, his face downcast as he signed “alone” again.

“One day you can find a nice land shark partner, if that's what you want, but Valentine's is not all about couples. There is a lot you can do, little land shark! Treat it as a normal day, spend time with friends, enjoy the alone time… here, let me show you.”

Yelena nodded her head as she stood up, in a clear sign that Jeff should follow her; he took the hint and leapt gently off of the sofa. Fanny looked up at the movement and decided to trail her owner too. So Yelena paced through the house, her two animals marching in step behind her, until she pulled a box out from a hallway cabinet, half-full with crayons and stickers and pink slips of paper. Fanny sniffed it curiously.

“Natasha and I used to do this every year,” the younger assassin explained. Meanwhile, she'd picked the box up again and led the troupe back to the living room table.

“We would watch funny movies and make each other cards. Look, see, this is from your mother-”

A pink card was shoved into Jeff's hands; adorned with a blood-red heart on the front, Jeff opened it to see Natasha's neat, calligraphic handwriting, not that he could read any of it.

“Mrrrr,” he said.

“Yes,” Yelena replied, not understanding him at all, “she was angry with me that year. I threw her out a window a couple days before.”

“Mrrrr,” Jeff tried again, this time signing “can't read” alongside it.

“Oh, yes, she has bad handwriting, hard to read. I will read it for you.” Yelena beckoned for the paper, which Jeff passed back to her.

“Dear Yelena,” she read aloud, “sometimes I am glad I didn't kill you. Lots of love, Natasha.”

“She is very sincere.”

“Mrrrr.”

“Let's make cards. You can give it to your parents when they pick you up, yes?”

Jeff nodded, and the two of them set to work. The TV was switched on and played a collection of rom-coms that the network has chosen to air for Valentine's day, allowing Yelena to laugh at the tropes and throw popcorn at the TV whenever it became too unrealistic for her to believe. In turn, that kept Jeff and Fanny entertained, as they scrambled to get to the fallen popcorn first.

“Mrrr?” Jeff asked at one point, after Yelena had cut and folded the card for him. He had one hand on the front of the card and a red pen balanced between his teeth, which he hovered just above the page.

“You want to outline your hand?” 

Jeff nodded, causing the pen to lower and mark a red line on his hand.

“Okay, let me do it then,” Yelena stepped in, taking the pen off of Jeff. “You want a full outline? If you move your fingers together it is like a heart.”

Jeff tried it, moving his first finger towards his thumb, then his other two towards each other on the other side. Yelena had been correct; thanks to his short, sharp fingers and a rounded hand, it did form a somewhat heart-like shape when traced. 

“There we go. A perfect heart!”

Jeff looked at the paper. The heart was about as perfect as Natasha's pancakes had been that morning, but he considered that maybe the sisters didn't know what a heart was supposed to look like, and he was content to let them live in ignorance. Jeff gave a thumbs up.

Yelena handed the card back and turned to the TV once more.

“Why are they kissing! They just met!” she yelled suddenly, jolting both Jeff and Fanny from their relaxed positions.

“I am sorry,” she grumbled calmly, “they are just dumb.”

Fanny huffed and settled back into her bed, while Jeff went back to colouring in his Valentine's card. And so, they settled into their routine for the rest of the day.

There was, of course, a break for lunch, and then again to walk Fanny (and Jeff, but in his mind he walked the other two). The rest of the time was spent doing arts and crafts in the living room, moving on from the Valentine's card, to friendship bracelets, to Yelena teaching Jeff simple origami.

By the time you and Natasha came to pick up Jeff, late in the evening, the table overflowed with stacks of folded paper, beads, and glitter covered cards; and your landshark blended right in with how much glitter he had spilt on himself.

Natasha gasped and practically ran into the house. You panicked, thinking she would storm in and reprimand Yelena for the mess, but, to your surprise, she headed straight for the table and fell to her knees beside it. “You brought out the crafting stuff!” she exclaimed, in a tone totally opposite to what you had expected, then beckoned you over right before she began to rifle through the mess.

You closed the door slowly, sensing that your original plan to quickly pick Jeff up and head home would be no more.

“What's going on?”

Natasha ignored you, and instead looked up to her sister, “I remember writing this one, you'd pushed me out of a window just before it.”

Your head swung rapidly to Yelena, who shrugged at your expression, “We were only one floor up.”

After knowing the pair of them for years, you knew when it was best to let things slide, and this was one of those times. Further questioning would only yield more questions than answers.

“Y/N, come sit down,” Natasha smiled and pulled you down to her side, “this is what Yelena and I used to do every Valentine's day.”

“Before she met you,” Yelena added.

“Do you mind that I'm joining?” you asked the younger Widow directly, even as Natasha piled heaps of craft equipment in your lap. “I don't want to intrude on a sibling tradition.”

Yelena glared at you for a few seconds, long enough to make you sweat under her gaze, before she eventually broke into a smile and shook her head. “No, no. It is a family tradition, and you are family now. I do not mind. Come, the land shark can show you how it's done.”

With Yelena’s blessing, you shuffled around at the table and got to work making a love letter of your own. The message you wanted to convey came to you quickly, and the page soon filled with your expressions of love. Natasha finished hers at almost the same time, and you all agreed to exchange them at once.

“Three, two, one-”

Yelena pointed Jeff towards you and Natasha, but he shook his head and turned back to her, depositing his card in her lap. Meanwhile you and Yelena had both pushed your cards across the table to Jeff, and Natasha’s to Yelena.

“Thank you, Jeffrey Landshark,” Yelena said earnestly, “I am touched.”

“Hey, I gave you a card too!” Natasha complained, only to be shushed by her sister.

“You are not as special as Jeff.”

Natasha looked to you for backup, but you only shrugged. Though you pulled her into a side hug immediately after, of course, because she might have pushed you through a window if you hadn't.

“This is a bit awkward, huh?” you whispered, smiling against her hair as she rested her head on your shoulder, the both of you watching Jeff and Yelena exchange friendship bracelets and admire their Valentine's day cards. “Put our hearts out there and didn't even get a single card back.”

“You put your heart out there? Oh…”

“Natasha… why does this just say ‘die’?”

Jeff taglist: @unexpected-character​ @wolferine

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 10 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of previous abusive relationship, physical and mental trauma recovery

a/n: happy valentines ig <3 thank you all for your comments and support, here's the final chapter :)

The steady beeps and flow of your breathing through a mask seemed loud in Yelena’s ears as she sat by your side. She had hardly moved in the days you had occupied the hospital bed, even pacing outside the operating theatres for the long hours you spent in there. The blonde had been told by nurses, doctors, Natasha and Kate that it would do her a lot of good to go home and get some rest, that you would be closely monitored when she wasn’t there. Yet Yelena couldn’t bring herself to so much as leave the ward. 

  “She’s stable, but right now our main concern is what her mobility will be like when she wakes up given the damage to her legs and back. It’s hard to predict at this time,” the doctor told Natasha as the pair stood outside of your room. 

  “When will she wake up?” The redhead asked as looked through the window to where Yelena had fallen asleep on the chair. Her neck would be sore when she woke up. 

  “Whenever she’s ready.”

  “Okay, thank you,�� Natasha nodded, understanding that there wasn’t much more they could do for you at that moment in time apart from administering the right medication. The rest was down to you. 

  Natasha winced as she watched her sister suddenly jolt awake from her brief sleep. She rubbed the side of her neck as she brought her chair slightly closer to your bed and examined the monitors for a few moments for anything different. The redhead had been trying to give Yelena some space in the previous days given that she wasn’t accepting anyone's company except for yours, but Natasha knew it wasn’t healthy to let her sister carry on alone. 

  She knocked on the door gently before she entered, giving Yelena a small smile she didn’t get back. Natasha pulled up the spare chair next to the blonde, sitting in silence for a few minutes as she took in your state. You were better, though the damage was still prominent. 

  “Kate wants to come and see her,” Natasha finally said. 

  “No one’s stopping her,” Yelena was quick to say. 

  “You don’t seem to like anyone else being in here,” the redhead commented. Yelena didn’t respond. It was somewhat true. “You can’t shut everyone out, Yelena.” 

  “Why did you not want us to be together?” The blonde asked as she watched the steady rise and fall of your chest. Natasha followed her eyeline, knowing Yelena was going to ask that question sooner or later. 

  “It’s not that I didn’t want it to happen, I just wanted you both to be careful,” Natasha sighed. “You’re new to relationships and y/n’s only seen the bad side to them. That doesn’t make you incompatible but I thought you both would’ve seen the sense in going slow instead of skipping straight to sex.” Yelena listened carefully to her sister, understanding her point. It made sense in hindsight, as most things did, though at the time there had been a part of both of you that knew it too. 

  “And besides, I thought you guys would tell me about something like that. I never expected you to think you had to sneak around and hide it from me. You should never have to keep something like that a secret, especially from your sister,” Natasha explained clearly as she looked at Yelena who nodded slowly. 

  “I wanted to tell you,” she whispered. 

  “I’m your sister but I’m her friend. I should’ve been looking out for both of you,” Natasha admitted. 

  “You’ll have the chance when she wakes up,” Yelena stated adamantly, not allowing anything to shake her belief that you would be okay. 

  “Yeah,” Natasha agreed. 

  “You recognised Ruslana,” Yelena started slowly. “But not from the red room and not by her name. Who was she to y/n?” She asked, the question had been weighing on her since their meeting. 

  “As much as I wish it wasn’t true, she’s who she said she was,” Natasha said honestly. “It wasn’t a healthy relationship by any means, she had y/n do the hacking for the red room - not that anyone knew that at the time,” she explained. 

  “She never told me that.”

  “She never told anyone.”

  “I am glad I killed her,” Yelena said after a steady sigh. 

  “I’m glad you did too,” Natasha admitted. “Even if it was reckless,” she added. Yelena rolled her eyes but her sister didn’t miss the smile that settled on her lips. “I’m going to get you some lunch,” Natasha told her as she stood up. “I’ll get enough for Kate too.” Yelena nodded and pulled out her phone to text the young archer. 

  “I miss you,” Yelena told your sleeping form. “I wish I knew about Rae, maybe it would have helped. But I understand why you didn’t tell me,” she said. You took several supported breaths. “I wish I was more honest as well,” she admitted. “But we’ll have time for all that when you’re awake,” she said adamantly, though the continuous beeps from the machines attached to you worked to dig doubt into Yelena’s mind.

  “Please wake up,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her eyes clouded. “I missed you so much, please don’t stay away much longer.”

*

The light was the first thing your brain registered when you woke up. It was far too bright, a painful contrast to the blanket of darkness you had rested under for the past week. You kept your eyes squeezed shut as you allowed the rest of your senses to adjust and take in your surroundings, the steady beeping next to you being too loud for one thing. The bed you were on was far more comfortable than your last one and the room was pleasantly cool, as though someone knew that was your preferred sleeping conditions. 

  The pain was the next thing you experienced and it made the discomfort of the lights jump to the back of your mind in comparison. It was everywhere and seemed to extend right into the centre of your bones without pity. Your skin felt as though it was tearing with every slight movement and the whimper you gave only scratched at your dry throat as you grasped at the bedsheets and stumbled upon a warm hand resting on your bed. You forced your eyes open just as Yelena did, meeting the grey orbs that you had hardly left your mind in your time apart. Your breath hitched as her features brightened at you. 

  “Hi,” she said as an anxious smile flickered across her lips. 

  “Hi,” you whispered, your throat protesting. Yelena grabbed the jug next to your bed and poured a glass of water, not hesitating to bring it up to your lips to aid you to take the water with steady sips until you had enough to ease the ache in your throat. “Thank you,” you said, unsure of how to even start on everything else you wanted to say. “Have you been here long?”

  “I haven’t left,” she told you. 

  “How long has it been?” You frowned. “You must be tired.” 

  “I’m sure it is nothing compared to you,” Yelena said, noticing your pain. You glanced down at your covered body, unsure if you wanted to see what lied beneath. “I will get a doctor,” she announced but the moment she stood up you reached out for her wrist and held it tightly. 

  “Wait,” you said, not wanting to wait any longer to fix the regrets you had become all too aware of during your last consciousness. “I’m sorry,” you started but Yelena cut you off as she sat back down. 

  “Don’t say that,” she insisted, though it sounded like a plea. “I know you didn’t mean what you said at the party.”

  “I just want to explain,” you winced. 

  “I read the letter,” she told you. 

  “Oh?” You remembered that letter vividly. “Right,” you nodded, recalling how it had ended. You hadn’t written that letter with the intention of recalling it to the blonde word for word, it was meant to be a guide to help you navigate your mind. You hadn’t planned for Yelena to be on that journey with you. So where did that leave you?

  “Can I take you out some time?” Yelena suddenly asked with an air of uncertainty that you weren’t ever going to be used to seeing on her. Despite the pain, you smiled. 

  “I would like that,” you told her and saw her shoulders instantly relax. She shifted her wrist so that she could hold your hand in hers, a gesture that hadn’t lost any of its perfection. “Where do people usually go on first dates?” You asked with an easy grin that Yelena mirrored.

  “I was hoping you would know,” she countered knowingly. 

  “Maybe a cat rescue centre?” You suggested. Yelena rolled her eyes and dropped your hand with a huff.

  “Screw you,” she said, though it was clear she was suppressing a smile. You chuckled at the sight and felt a bloom of pain arise in your chest. “Can I get someone now?” You nodded, letting her go under the certainty that she would return. 

  You rested your head back and tried to focus on anything but the increasing pain across your body, remembering all too vividly how you had come by your injuries. You didn’t want to think about Rae, especially now that Yelena’s role in your life was finally beginning to feel more concrete, but your past had caught up to you in a way you couldn’t have ever anticipated. 

  Rae was a widow and nothing you ever had was real. You were just a means to an end for her to use to support what Yelena and Natasha had suffered from. You frowned, refusing to let yourself fall into that spiral of guilt that never did any good for anyone. Sure, you had indirectly caused harm, but with S.H.I.E.L.D and Yelena, you had played a significant part in helping the heroes and the later acts had been your choice. That was enough. 

  “Miss, l/n,” a doctor greeted as she stepped into the room with Yelena close behind. “How are you feeling?” She asked with a genuine smile. 

  “Bruised,” you undermined slightly in the blonde’s presence, not wanting her to know how bad the pain really was. 

  “We’ll increase your dosage so that you can be more comfortable,” she told you as she read your vitals and the information written out on the board above you. “Your body’s been through a lot,” she informed as she began to explain the numerous operations you had gone through and how your body was expected to recover, given the chance and what condition it was in at that time. “Could I ask you to raise your left leg?” She asked. You felt Yelena shift next to you as you strained to lift the heavy limb and succeeded, after several moments' effort, to get it a few inches above the bed and repeated it with the other. You were unable to raise either of them as high as you could prior to your injuries, but you were well aware of how lucky you were to be able to move it at all.  

  “That’s good to see,” the doctor told you honestly, withholding from the fact there had been great apprehension as to whether or not you would be able to accomplish the movement. “Can you try and sit on the edge of the bed with your feet over?” She continued though that proved to be harder. Your back burned in protest as you twisted it and you had to use your hands to help drag your legs across the mattress until they fell over the edge and you suddenly felt very unsure of your ability to support yourself. You gripped onto the bed as tight as you could while Yelena stood by your side with her arms outstretched ready to catch you should you fall. 

  “Now when you’re ready, see if you can stand up.” You breathed out and peered over the side of the bed with some apprehension. You suddenly felt quite high up. Tentatively, you pulled yourself closer to the edge until your feet hovered just an inch from the floor. 

  “I’ve got you,” Yelena reassured. You smiled at her with little confidence and finally pushed yourself off with a soft pat on the floor. You didn’t let go of the bedrail as you steadied yourself, leaning the majority of your body weight on the bed instead of your own two feet until you let go. You stood for several seconds unsupported until the muscles in your legs gave out beneath you. True to her word, Yelena caught you just as you toppled, hooking her arms underneath yours and immediately guiding you back to the bed where you sat in defeat. The doctor mentioned something about physiotherapy, but you weren’t really listening. Your legs were numb again, but it proved difficult to be too disheartened when you felt Yelena rub soothing circles on your waist as she listened to the doctor intently. 

  “And we’ll monitor your progress to see if you need any additional support,” the doctor said, noticing that she didn’t have your full attention.

  “Like what?” Yelena enquired. 

  “Leg braces can be of great help.” You nodded absently. You didn’t want a brace. 

  “Thank you,” you muttered towards the nurse, wanting the meeting to end. She seemed to take the cue and departed with a sympathetic smile. Once she closed the door behind her, you looked at the blonde and patted the space in the small bed behind you. A smile graced Yelena’s lips as she moved to the other side of the bed and you hauled your legs up again, settling on your side as she slipped in beside you. You didn’t waste a second in stretching your bandaged arms out around her as she did the same. It was easier to ignore the pain when it meant you were able to hold the blonde again and a small price to pay to feel her steady breathing above you. 

  “I will help you walk too,” Yelena told you with a certainty you always associated her with. 

  “Tomorrow,” you replied. “Let's just stay like this for now.” Though Yelena wanted to help you get better as quickly as possible, she couldn’t decline the offer to stay with you in the way she had been craving. Instead, she rested her chin on top of your head until you both fell into a peaceful slumber like you had numerous times before.

*

“Oh my god,” Kate rushed out once she stepped into the room. 

  “Hey,” you smiled at the sight of your best friend and sat up slightly. 

  “I can’t believe you did that!” She exclaimed. “That was so dumb!” She continued, giving you the same frantic look she did after drinking a dozen red bulls in order to get through a twenty four hour stake out. “That was so so dumb and I’m so mad at you,” she told you as she enveloped you in a tight hug and clambered onto the bed beside you. You chuckled with a wince you didn’t want the archer to see as her hands caught the edge of the strike on your back. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said as she held you tight. 

  “I won’t be if you keep squeezing the air out of me,” you told her with a grin. She pulled back with a start and gave you a sheepish smile. 

  “Sorry I just…you scared me,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m so-”

  “Don’t you dare,” you interrupted. “It was my choice to leave. It scared me when I thought they had you,” you pointed out, seeing the comfort Kate drew from your words. “Worthit though.”

  “Really?” Kate frowned as she glanced at the different bandages across you. 

  “Yeah. The way I see it, I tried to save your ass so now you owe me so much pizza,” you shrugged and Kate began to grin.

  “Except you didn’t really save either of us,” she said matter of factly. 

  “I still almost got turned into minced meat for you!” You huffed. Kate was beyond glad that you were still able to make light of something that could have destroyed other people. She knew you were still hurting, but it was good to see you hadn’t been entirely broken by what had happened. 

  “Not just me,” she smirked. “I heard Yelena’s been in here a lot.” You hummed simply, suppressing your smile. 

  “I sent her home to have a shower.” Kate chuckled at that. 

  “Are you guys good?” She asked except the way she was looking at you indicated that she already knew the answer.

  “We’re going on a date,” you informed with a grin that Kate quickly mirrored and launched forwards to give you another, lighter hug. 

  “Finally,” she beamed. 

  “Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed with an eye roll as she pulled back. 

  “I’m happy for you,” she told you with a sincerity that made her eyes glimmer. “For you both,” she added. 

  “Thanks, Kate. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you told your best friend. 

  “Somewhere really lame I bet,” she shrugged and pulled up a chair next to your bed to give you some space. “So I know you’re happy with Yelena and all that sappy stuff,” she began. “But you do realise that as best friends we’re obligated to discuss this latest addition to the whole crazy ex thing.” You knew that there was never any genuine pressure to discuss the most recent events that had unfolded with Rae, but you were done trying to pretend like anything to do with her never happened.

  “Well for starters, she’s a widow,” you said. 

  “Dude, what the fuck?!”

*

“You’re doing well, y/n,” the therapist encouraged once she helped you up from the heap on the floor. You bite your tongue as you clung to the bar to prevent yourself from snipping that it didn’t feel that way. It didn’t feel like you were making much progress at all despite working your leg muscles as best you could in the past few days. “I think we should call it a day for this session and pick it up again tomorrow,” she suggested. You didn’t want to stop. You wanted to keep going but you knew the physiotherapist had a lot of other patients to attend to and you couldn’t take her attention away from them. 

  Yelena emerged from where she had been watching from the sidelines and brought your wheelchair with you to help you into it. You almost swatted her hand away to do it yourself, but you needed the support and you couldn’t brush her off. You went back to your ward in silence as Yelena commented on your progress, apparently sharing the belief that you were making good progress. You still couldn’t walk unsupported and you could only take several steps at a time before falling. Yelena and Kate were amazing for being so supportive, but it had always been Natasha who had taught you skills you needed the most. You hadn’t seen her since that night at the party and you were beginning to believe it would be a while until you would again. 

  “We don’t have to wait until you’re walking, we could go to a restaurant that is wheelchair accessible,” Yelena rambled as she helped you back into the bed. 

  “You’re not getting tired of waiting on me, are you Belova?” You quipped. 

  “I’ve been waiting a long time,” she muttered back with a fond smile. You hummed in agreement. “I’ve done some research to see which restaurants would be best,” she continued. Of course she has. “But I want to visit them myself to fact check,” she told you matter of factly. “Because sometimes it’s not as good as they say and-”

  “I love you,” you said suddenly. Yelena’s eyes widened as she took in your words. “Sorry, you don’t have to say it back and I know you kind of already knew it because of the letter and if history has taught us anything I probably shouldn’t be moving so fast anyway but it just felt right to tell you because-”

  “I love you too,” she cut you off confidently. “I think I have loved you for a long time,” she added. You pulled her forwards slightly and she took the cue to lean down and kiss you softly, cherishing the moment’s intimacy that you had both waited so long to display. It was new territory for you both, yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. “And I would like to go on a date sooner rather than later,” she smiled. 

  “Just don’t stay away for too long,” you replied, still holding her hand as she pulled away. 

  “Never,” Yelena promised, leaving your room with a glowing feeling in her chest that she was allowed to embrace for the first time in her life. She owed that to you. 

  Similarly, you lay with a content grin on your lips for a while as you reflected on every moment you had with Yelena and couldn’t help but anticipate what was to come. Though if she was constantly willing to go the extra mile, you should be too. With that in mind, you dragged your feet over the side of the bed and braced against the sides as you raised yourself to your feet, unaware of the emerald eyes that watched you from the hallway. 

  You took a supported step as you clung to the bed, feeling your legs shake in protest but unwilling to back down just yet. You carried on regardless and successfully reached the end of your bed so you could set your target on the window just two steps away. Two steps was nothing, right? Wrong. The moment you advanced towards the window the numbness took over both legs in their entirety and you toppled to the floor without Yelena being there to help you up. Someone else was though.

  “I thought you were only supposed to do that with a nurse around,” Natasha stated as she appeared by your side. You looked up at her with a badly concealed surprise as she held her hand out to you. You took it, knowing you were unable to get up on your own.

  “As if you would follow that advice,” you muttered, uncomfortable at the tension that filled the room. 

  Natasha didn't reply to that. “They said you’re doing well,” she said instead as she helped you sit down. She didn’t pull up a chair, opting to hover by your side with her arms across her chest.

  “Apparently,” you shrugged, glancing down at your lap. You had never found yourself struggling to make conversation with the redhead before, even though there was something you both needed to talk about. 

  “Yelena said you guys are gonna go out some time.” You kept your eyes glued to your lap as you swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in your throat. 

  “Yeah, is that…yeah,” you said slowly, wanting to ask for her approval but too afraid to hear her reject it. 

  “I’m glad-” she began but you cut her off before you could take in what she was trying to say.

  “I’m sorry, Nat. I know you told me not to date your sister and I never thought we would actually- I mean I didn’t expect that she would even want to- or that we would end up getting so-”

  “Y/n,” Natasha cut off as she sat down next to you. “I had no right to ever tell you Yelena was off limits and honestly, if I had known how you felt about each other before I saw what you did with each other, I never would have stood in your way,” she said firmly. “I would have had some issues with the order you two were working in,” she continued and you finally let yourself smile in relief, “but that’s only because I want the best for both of you. Now I know what that is.” Without another word, Natasha tilted her head to rest against yours and you didn’t waste another second in leaning in to wrap your arms around her, feeling the immense safety that always came from being in such proximity to either Russian. 

  “I promise not to hurt her again,” you whispered. 

  “I’ll spare you the lecture,” she chuckled. 

  “I’ve heard enough of them,” you told her as you remembered the hours Rae had spent at your side.

  “You’re safe now,” Natasha said with all the assurance you needed to hear. “I told you I’d find her.” You hummed faintly.

  “I never doubted it. Now there’s nothing holding me back.”

*

Six months later

  “Just a bit further,” Yelena encouraged as she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You glanced up at the last stretch of the hill, knowing it was going to be the hardest. It would be worth it though. “Do you want to stop for a bit?” Your girlfriend asked as she watched you struggle to persevere.

  “I got it,” you told her even though your legs were burning, adamant on getting to the top without any assistance. Yelena stuck close to your side as Marty peered up at you from the other, giving a bark of encouragement too. “Thanks, bud,” you told him as the last few metres drew closer and you finally hauled yourself up to the top where you collapsed in an exhausted heap. Your burning legs were numb but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you gazed out across the cliff. 

  “Are you okay?” Yelena asked, concern written over her features as she crouched down in front of you. You merely smiled up at her and placed your hand to her cheek, only needing a moment of that contact to ease her worries as she sat down next to you to admire the view and grab some water from her backpack for you all. 

  “It’s even better in the summer,” she commented as you sat up, resting your head on her shoulder. You hummed in agreement and craned your head slightly to gaze at Yelena. 

  “Beautiful,” you muttered. 

  “We should camp out here next time,” she said, too caught up in the view to notice your subtle admiration of her. 

  “I like that idea,” you told her, although what you really liked was the idea that there would be a next time and no doubt many more after. “I think they do too,” you added when you noticed Marty and Fanny looking at you both with great interest. Yelena chuckled and rested her own head on yours. 

  “You think you will be up for it?” The blonde enquired. 

  “I think so,” you said. “I hope so.”

  “You’re doing well,” she told you, knowing how frustrated you had been over your slow healing progress at the start but how, despite the odds, you had made it back onto your feet.

  “So are you,” you said. Yelena kissed your forehead softly, knowing what you meant. 

  “It’s easy loving you,” she said simply. You grinned, feeling your heart elevate in your chest as you wrapped your arms around your girlfriend and sat content under the knowledge that you never had to doubt it. “It always will be.”

The end.

[getvalentined]

I love when folks ask me Fandom Old questions and I get to be like "Yeah, uh, that's from my old online RP group, no it's not canon at all, yes we just made it up, no we did not claim it was canon but the mid to late aughts were a strange time."

It's honestly a shock to realize how often this has happened. I mentioned earlier that Reno's fanon surname came from this same group, but that's not even the half of it. I once made a bunch of screenshot manips based on the most ridiculous ships anyone could think of—someone slapped a random line of text onto one of them and to this day it's used as a "cringe FF7 fandom" meme. I saw it on the twits a bit back and almost fell out of my goddamn chair.

If you've ever heard Scarlet referred to with the surname "West," read about Tseng fighting with metal fans, seen Elena's older sister being called Anna instead of Emma, come across Vincent portrayed as having a PhD in spite of being a Turk, or caught references somewhere to Grimoire experimenting on Vincent as a child, that started with this group. That was us.

One of the funniest examples of this, for me specifically, is that we don't actually know which arm Veld is missing? The fandom generally goes with his left because that's how I drew him in the first picture of the guy ever posted on devart way back in 2005, but it may very well be his right. I've seen people offer "proof" that it's his right based on a scene in the opening cutscene, but you can't tell there either, and with BC's graphics there's literally no way to tell on his sprite.

Hell, this year we found out everyone's assumed timeline of the Kalm fire is wrong, and that's our fault too because we made some assumptions about Felicia's age for an LJ RP that were entirely wrong. She's around Zack's age, not Sephiroth's! She's old enough to run with a terrorist group in BC, but she was a child when Kalm burned, and that happened in 1997—we know this because NPCs in Rebirth literally refer to the fire in Kalm having happened "just ten years ago." Veld has only had his prosthetic for three years when BC starts. (This also implies that, contrary to popular belief, Veld may actually be younger than Vincent. Vincent may have been the senior partner, and that's why he was sent to Nibelheim alone while Veld was left at headquarters.)

We were really wrong on this! But we were working with what we had. There's no canon evidence for the vast majority of these things (the most notable exclusion here is Vincent being educated) but we weren't claiming there was. We were filling gaps, and canon was so sparse that we had a lot of gaps to fill. So if it turns out that Veld lost his right arm, then I'll just have to start drawing him that way—because losing his left was never canon.

Tragically, there's nothing any of us can do to make people stop assuming these things are canon at this point; there aren't a lot of us still in the fandom, and it's not like any of us have those old chatlogs anymore. People from this RP group have DIED since those days. It's been over 20 years since most of us met, and around 15 since most of us were in a public fannish space together.

"Prove it," people say, and I literally can't. Do you know how many computers I've been through since then? 75% of the platforms we used no longer exist. This all started on a BBCode forum! There is no proof!

But...there's no evidence any of these things are canon, either, so maybe think about that? The Kalm fire, Tseng's weapon of choice, Veld's arm, character surnames—none of these are retcons because there was no lore there to retcon. We made it up for our specific purposes, and it escaped containment in an era when there was really no way to do online contact tracing.

It's just one of the weirdest feelings in the world to see younger folk arguing about A or B point in canon, about X or Y retcon—referencing something my friends and I thought up at like 10 o'clock at night on a now-defunct IM client in August of 2005, because we needed something to refer back to for a specific scene in an RP and the source material had nothing to offer.

Absolutely fucking bonkers.

[cloverdaisies]

⋆⁺.CHRISTMAS LIGHTS ︶꒷꒦︶ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

➸ ⋆⁺. [⛸️] description: the city was lonely, as they say home is where the heart is. as you return to see your childhood friends for the annual christmas get together, old faces resurface unhealed wounds that you wish you could rewind. ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

➸ ⋆⁺. member: juyeon x you

➸ ⋆⁺. genre: angst to fluff

➸ ⋆⁺. word count: 2k+

the moors were covered in a glistening blanket of the whitest snow, the sky overcast with a light grey hue whilst the trees lonely and desolate of leaves hung themselves over the landscape perfectly.

you were nervous, a slight shake in your hands as the cars heating blasted warm air into the passenger seat, driving to the cabin bar where your old friends had organised the yearly christmas get together.

you’d moved away to the city after the last christmas, leaving your small countryside village behind - unwilling to settle for a manual labor job and stay in the country forever. you prioritised your ambition and career over a humble life readily paved out for you.

however, admittedly you’d missed the village, the city was nothing in comparison, the sense of community you’d lost, the friends you’d left behind, life wasn’t the same without them.

or should you say… him.

“we’re here, ma’am.” the taxi driver that had drove you all these miles announced, you gave him a smile and your thanks before telling him to have a lovely christmas as he drove off into the distance of the high street, strung with christmas lights and foliage.

the small pub where you’d grew up was bustling with laughter and joy, the faint melody of “fairytale of new york” by the pogues leaking from the wooden doors.

“y/n!” you heard someone yell your name, a joyful juhaknyeon running out the doors of the pub with a cigarette settled above his ear like a ballpoint pen. he was wearing the flat cap you’d bought him as a joke last christmas, his pint of guinness spilling from the sides clumsily as he was so excited to see you.

“haknyeon!” you exclaimed, running to give him a hug and took in the scent of his familiar cologne, mixed with a strong scent of booze. “i’ve missed you so much!”

“you’ve missed us? we thought you’d forgotten all about us!” he laughed jokingly hitting you on the back, as he walked you into the bar where all your other friends were sat around a large booth towards the back.

you’d greeted everyone with a smile, reuniting with kevin and jacob asking you all about your city life and the things you’d gotten up to since you’d left. the bar was full of old regulars, the floors were carpeted in the same shade of red with gold accents highlighting the room.

“yeah, it’s been a pretty busy year for me.” you laughed, unable to focus on the conversation. you looked around the pub, checked the bar, but he was nowhere to be found.

“you’re looking for him, aren’t you?” hyunjae asked, sat next to you with his new wife chatting away to another one of the boys’ girlfriends eagerly.

“yeah.” you sighed, feeling let down that he hadn’t shown up, which considering how you’d left things last year you weren’t surprised.

“don’t get too down about it yet, he’s missed you, i’m sure he’ll make an appearance at some point.” hyunjae smiled with reassurance, taking a short sip of his pint before chipping into the conversation his wife was having.

“how’s the electrics company going?” you asked haknyeon, taking your mind off the entire thing as he smiled and began trailing off about all of his work dramas.

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

it’d been 3 hours of chatting, catching up and laughter, however he still hadn’t shown up. the afternoon was soon turning evening, despite your belief in your ability to conceal your emotions, everyone noticed your solemn undertones - understanding why you weren’t in the greatest mood, considering the events of last christmas.

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

🎄🕰️: 25TH OF DECEMBER: LAST YEAR

christmas day was coming to a close, you still hadn’t broke it to him yet, the love of your life, that you were leaving the village in the beginning of january.

the boy who’s name was juyeon did everything a boyfriend usually would for you, you were in love in such a way that words couldn’t describe. he was a bricklayer in the town, living his life humbly hoping to give you the best life he could.

on the evening of christmas day, you’d been sat watching christmas films with him sat in his arms guiltily revising the city job offer you’d received just 3 days prior.

“y/n?” the boy next to you hummed “i have to tell you something.”

you looked up at his deep brown eyes with guilt, his white sweater complimenting his gold wristwatch and necklace.

“i have to tell you something too.” you replied exhaling a deep breath, his expression looking at you with so much love you’d almost choked on your words.

“you go first.” his hand gently brushing your spine, running up to your shoulder as you gulped nervously.

“i’ve been offered a job in the city.” you concisely formed the sentence, breaking the news off from your guilt heavy conscience.

“what?- you’re leaving?” his expression changed to an unclear frown, his eyes confused and almost hurt with the sudden news. “what about us?”

“i don’t know juyeon, but it’s an offer i can’t refuse.” you tried to explain your decision and at heart he already knew it was the best decision for you.

“it’s okay. just know if you ever want to come back and live here. I’m here for you.” he sighed, giving you a tight hug, his eyes glancing down to his pockets.

little did you know, there was another offer you wouldn’t have refused lying in there next to his car keys. a small crushed velvet box with a diamond ring, one he could never gift to you - since you were leaving for good. the crumpled speech he’d revised would later be littered with tear drops, his life crumbling apart.

🎄🕰️BACK TO PRESENT DAY

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

you got up to go get another drink from the bar, ordering a beverage to settle the nerves that tangled like knots in your stomach. the feeling of emptiness opening like a dark void in your conscience.

the pub doors opened, a familiar tall figure in a black trench coat stepping inside, the scent of a fresh cigarette lingering in the air, immediately turning your head to the scent of old spice and home.

he’d made it, his jet black hair, beautiful brown eyes all stood before you as he wiped his boots on the welcome matt, his jacket catching flakes of fallen snow.

your heart either shattered, or put itself back together - you couldn’t tell which as it was such an unclear feeling of overwhelming nature you’d never felt before.

he locked eyes with you, just for a few seconds as if he considered saying hello or running back out the door. taking hesitant steps towards the bar where you were.

“it’s lovely to see you again.” juyeon smiled slightly, battling internalised emotions he’d tried to avoid. leaning over the bar and avoiding the contact of your eyes which looked up at his face brightly.

“same goes for you. how have you been?” the confidence you’d tried to assert on your voice leaving only above a whisper.

“i can’t say i’ve been great.” he chuckled in an almost bittersweet way, running his fingers through his neatly styled hair with a sigh.

“that’s not good, i’m sure things will be better for you next year, at least i hope.” you tried to think of a kind response, instead probably coming across as the most patronising piece of shit in the process.

“i hope so too.” he smiled, as you collected your drink and turned around to see every single pair of your friends eyes gawking at the situation.

“can you guys make yourselves any more obvious?” you laughed placing your drink on the table in embarrassment and sitting back down next to hyunjae.

juyeon soon came to sit beside you, the group greeting him briefly and apologising for his lateness. he had work that day, you didn’t know how you’d forgotten being so caught up in your selfish little world.

“how is work?” you asked nervously as conversations resumed around you, the tension between the two of you building intensely.

“i got promoted to site manager.” he smiled, as you congratulating him with a laugh knowing how much he’d wanted to get that position.

“how’s the city?” he scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his you’d picked up after years of knowing him.

“to be honest? not great. i miss home, i don't really have anyone there." you took a sip of your drink, eyes remaining on the polished wooden table with regret.

“well like i said you’re always welcome to come back.” he grumbled, looking around to everyone else’s conversations at the table, his eyes wandering to the christmas tree in the corner - coated in a thick gold tinsel with baubles strung messily across the tree.

“SPEECH. SPEECH. SPEECH.” The boys began chanting all of a sudden, taunting Sangyeon who appeared to be a little more tipsy than the rest his ears tinting a light a pink as he took a sip of his lager.

“Okay. Okay.” He calmed down their excitement before standing up in front of the the large table with his drink in hand. “First of all, I’d like to thank you all for coming this year and I think it’s important to address everyone’s hard work this year. I would like to thank Haknyeon for his persistence to plan this, I know we only all see each other driving past on our jobs but it’s refreshing to see you all face to face. Y/n thank you for travelling so far to see us, although things are different since you’ve been here last. It’s lovely to have everyone together. To a good christmas.” He raised his pint in the air as the boys howled in cheer, taking a sip and sitting back down in his place at the table.

“Thanks, Sangyeon. That was great.” You looked at the man across the table with a genuine smile, his gaze glancing between you and Juyeon before he returned the smile with ruddy cheeks.

As you began catching up with Younghoon, he seemed to bring up how he’d recently done a job for your parents, reinstalling their bathroom. The sound of their names resurfacing the guilt for leaving them.

“You sound like you need to come home.” Younghoon stated as he spotted tears welling at your waterline, quickly moving your hand to dab them away. You felt a hand gently touch your leg, containing yourself from jolting backwards in shock, you discreetly looked down to find Juyeon’s hand gently caressing your leg - something he used to do a lot to calm you down in public if you felt a bit nervous.

“I probably do.” You giggled slightly, a nervous hiccup triggering a laugh of adoration from Juyeon.

“Do it. Come home, I need a copywriter for my company.” Haknyeon looked across the table genuinely, turning heads with the statement.

“Really?” You looked at your phone slightly, (25) missed calls from your boss glowing on the screen since he’d been trying to call you in.

“Of course.” He laughed jovially in reply, sliding his phone across the pub table to show you the post for a copywriter he’d listed on a job site. “The pay probably isn’t as much as you currently make, but it might mean you get to come home and when my company expands I’m sure that will change.”

You smiled at Haknyeon, considering the post in your head. Did you really want to come home? Would you be really losing that much money with the prices of living in the city?

“Honestly-” The bell for last drinks at the bar sounded, as the boys cheered it was time for home, the bar soon closing. Everyone got up to leave, saying their goodbyes with hugs and words of sentiment for each other.

“Well, until next year.” Juyeon laughed, bittersweetly walking you out to the the sheltered entrance where the cab that would soon drive you back to city was parked it’s engine growling, it’s lights brightly shining on to the cobbled high streets.

“I don’t think.. I want to leave.” You felt your eyes beginning to water again, the thought of going back to the loneliness of the city taunting you at the back of your mind.

“Then stay. There’s a job here for you-” Juyeon erratically told you, the cigarette he’d freshly lit falling to to his sides with his arms.

“It’s not that, Juyeon. I got such an amazing opportunity in the city-” You began to argue, thinking of how amazing the job offer was in the city, installed with the false hope of climbing up the ladder and becoming an important figure to a significant company.

“But you heart is here. You want home, you know you do. So don’t waste that opportunity to be here again. Don’t walk out on me again.” He begged you, a strand of his jet black hair falling in front of his face, his eyes sparkling down on you with diamonds of hope glistening in his irises.

“I love you. I still do.” He suddenly came out with the statement, stunning your speech, knowing at heart he wasn’t trying to sabotage your career he just wanted your happiness; he wanted you back.

The mistletoe hung above you ironically, snow beginning to fall lightly the temperature dropping, however the feeling of warmth and comfort keeping you cozy in the small entrance way to the pub. Juyeon looked up to observe the plant hanging above you, before leaning in to touch his lips to yours, sealing a kiss that asserted so much passion almost his final beg to get you back.

As you parted, his hand resting against your cheek, you quickly broke and began sprinting towards the cab looking back at him, he stared in shock and defeat as he saw you looking back with watery tears.

“I’m going back to get my stuff.” You yelled to him, ready to return to the city and bring your things back to the place you belonged. He dashed over to you in the snow, immediately dropping the burning cigarette in his hand to embrace you in the tightest hug he’d ever given you.

“Keep the bed warm for me in the morning.” You laughed, causing him to smile, a singular tear of vulnerability falling down his cheek as he looked down at you with amounts of love you’ve never felt before.

“I will. I’ll start putting the christmas tree up too, ready for you.” He joked back, the smile on his face shining as if he’d never smiled since you were last with him. You quickly jumped to give him a final kiss, a fire relighting in your stomach as if it was the best feeling in the world.

“See you soon.” He opened the cab door for you, closing it as you got in safely, not forgetting to give you a peck on the cheek before gently closing the door.

As the snow fell across the village and street lamps lit up the small high-street stores you grew up around, an onlooker smiled in his flat cap having watched the whole scene with his cigarette and guinness in hand. His plan to bring everything back together had worked and would be reveal it to anyone? Of course not. Haknyeon chuckled, drinking the last of his pint before walking to Juyeon, the two walking the high street home laughing and joking as if everything had never changed.

⋆⁺. ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚

a/n: hi daisies! i’m yet to proofread this so cut me slack for any grammatical errors. this took me so long and i hope you love this little world as much as i do. merry christmas 🤍

[bunnyyamor]

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ haunted house | HAPPY HALLOWEEN COLLAB

you go ghost hunting at an abandoned house. you want to catch it on footage a real ghost for your youtube channel. what you didn't know was that there was a ghost, lurking, ready to make any woman succumb to needy lust

ghost! mahito x f!reader ୨୧ ꒰ nsfw...mdni ꒱ spectrophilia, cream pie, money shot, non-con, small blood kink, tiny knife play, pet-names (such as human, little one, baby, good girl), spanking

pls comment + like + reblog; i would rlly appreciate it (๑˘︶˘๑)

“are you rolling?” you fixed your hair, rearranging your microphone on your sweater to be propped up to receive the best audio. 

“yeah, we’re good,” your assistant put her thumbs up.

“hello crew! today it is the spooky halloween night. everyone is out trick or treating or enjoying scary parties, maybe even staying home, feet propped up with cozy black cat socks on and some pumpkin spiced coffee as they watch hocus pocus. either way, tonights the night. you lot voted! it’s the scary, haunted house! tonight we are going, ghost hunting! that's right, you’ll see an actual real life ghost tonight!” you moved to the left in order to get the house in the shot. it was abandoned, made entierely out of wood. it seemed ancient with all the new houses being built over a street away. it was dark, the wood seeming black even in the night air. it was run down, wet mold growing on the outside. it was two stories, with a porch in the front. in maybe another world this would of been the perfect picket-white fence house, now it was used as an attraction. it was used to showcase the worlds daredevils to see who would have enough bravery to enter its four walls. “me and my assistant are going to get footage of the whole thing! it doesn’t matter what happens.” you howled, really trying to dive into the scary factor of the whole idea of halloween. “but, let’s not keep waiting. let’s go!”

you ushered the camera to come closer to you. “wait, y/n. you think this is a good idea?” your assistant looked around the property. you could tell she was afraid.

“we’re not really gonna meet ghosts. i just want the viewers to think so. i don’t believe in ghosts anyways. we’re going to be fine! it’ll be quick, easy footage. some fake loud bangs and reactions and people will believe anything.”

you both walked up the porch and knocked. “you never know, there could be a drunk inside.” as you waited at the door, no one opened. so you two showed yourself in. “well folks, it smells terrible in here. and it’s extremely cold.”

“y/n, look.” your assistant pointed the camera at the wall. coverieng the wall was old paintings.

“it’s insane they didn’t get ruin by nature.” you gasped as you ran your fingers over the faded, dusty pieces of art. one was a carriage riding in the snow with horses attached to it, the other looked like a canoe or some type of boat in the lake with women inside enjoying a nice day out. there was a painting of this same house, when it was in pristine condition. “get a load of this shot here. look how beautiful this house used to be, what a shame.” your eyes peered over to the biggest painting out of the others. it was a man, dressed in an old fashioned suit, very vintage. he had blue hair, long that was in two loose ponytails. his face looked sad, unhappy. maybe lost. “poor guy. maybe he looks like this cause he got all those scars all over his face.”

“could this perhaps be the old owner of the house?” your assistant pointed out.

you tapped your lip in thought, “you know, you could be right. folks, i read about the old owner of this house. his name was mahito. people said about him that he was a man with a few loose screws in his head. he had his own beliefs about life and society and that he was a man that would let his opinions be heard. i don’t think the town really liked him nor if he was a good guy. either way, thank you for letting us in your house.” you joked as you waved to the painting. “let’s get a move on shall we.”

you showed the viewers the kitchen and the living room. each room had a history and a story. it was almost unbelievable to you that someone used to live here and that many years ago. “people speculate that his death was caused by a murder,” you widened your eyes for the dramatic effect. “maybe his spirit still lives here. waiting in revenge.”

“don’t joke about that stuff,” your assistant pouted.

you loved the creepiness. this was what your whole channel was about. you wanted to show people the mysterious, the unknown so you followed up on folklores. yeti, big foot, the lockness monster, all stories passed down from generations to generations. this year was ghosts. maybe they weren’t real, maybe they were, either way this was the perfect place to find out.

finally, you were in the bedroom of mahito. it looked collected, almost clean. like no had ever touched it after him. “that seems so unlikely that this place wasn’t touched! there had to be some looters or druggies that came in here. the door was unlocked. they must of wanted to steal everything here.”

the bedroom was huge. it had a glorious, chivalry bed in the middle of the room and most things were covered in gold. you could tell mahito had good taste.

“i think we should leave. i’m starting to get a bad feeling.”

you waved off your assistant, “we’re fine. now i’ll make a banging noise with my feet, alright. it’ll sound like a ghost and then i’ll pretend to be scared. good? okay, action.” you stomped your feet and jerked around back and forth. “did you hear that friends? it sounded like a-”

then another stomp and a loud bang. it sounded like something or someone fell. “-ghost,” you finished your sentance with a gulp.

“y/n, was that you?” your friend shook.

“...no…” you were quiet. again the sound! it was a bump, then footsteps.

“that’s it, i’m done.” your assistant propped the camera on the wooden desk nearby. “i am not risking it.”

“m-maybe it’s an animal. yeah. stop being afraid, it’s probably nothing.”

“i don’t care. i don’t like it here. i’m going. you can call an uber. i quit.” your assistant spat, running down the stairs.

“yeah, whatever! i didn’t need you. i can take videos myself!” you shouted.

there were no more noises but you picked up your camera, aiming at the closet. “let’s see what mahito’s clothing looked like in that time.” you opened up the door and what stood there made you jump and scream! “it’s a ghost!”

there, eyes directly baring into your soul, was the ghost of mahito. he had a scowl on his face and his eyes glared at you.”i never allowed you into my house.”

“g-g-g-g-g,” you dropped your camera as you fell onto the floor. scooting backwards until your back hit the bed.

“g-g-g-g-g-what? spit it out.” mahito walked out of the closet, hands crossed.

“ghost!” you pointed to him.

“you humans annoy me. what are you doing in my house?”

you stayed quiet, shocked that this was happening.

mahito tapped his foot then retrieved a long,silver knife from his closet. “better start talking or else.”

“i was doing a video. for my youtube channel. i didn’t know you were here.”

“you didn’t think ghosts were real?” he gave a sliverying smile, almost snake like. “well, my dear, we really are real. i’m as real as you are.”

“y-you scare me,” you shook, hands hugging yourself.

mahito flew to your ear, whispering, “good. you should be scared of me.”

you finally found the courage to stand up. as you did, you hastily ran to the door. you needed to escape.

mahito threw his knife at the door, close to your head, “not so fast human. i didn’t say you could leave. try that agian and i’ll slit your throat from one ear to the other. understand.” mahito laughed. he held his belly because he laughed so much, “you should see your face right now. all the color drained! even your lips quivering.” he stepped in front of you and held your chin. he was cold, ice cold and felt almost like a feather on you. was this how it felt being touched by a ghost? his lips landed on yours. moving quickly and biting your lip. he would have proceeded had you not pushed him away. “get off me!”

“i can feel your heart. turns out, you don’t really have one when you’re a ghost. i wonder how it feels again to have blood pumping through your veins and keeping your heart alive. it must feel warm and covered like a blanket.”

“i don’t know what you want, but you better stay back.” you saw beside your head the knife and pulled it out of the door. you swung at him. “i’m warning you.”

“oh no! the girl’s got a knife,” he feined crying. “whatever am i to do.” he stopped and walked into the knife, it not puncturing him at all. in fact, the knife went through him. “i’m a ghost baby, remember.” he grabbed the back of your head and forced you onto the floor.

“stop!” you kicked your legs. “what do you want from me?”

“how bout this? if you let me do whatever i want to you, i’ll let you live. if you don’t i will kill you here right now and haunt all your friends for eternity. understand?”

he was right. you were shaking. your hands were clenched and your heart was beating uncontrollably. but you had to weigh out your options.

“alright, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“good girl,” he patted your head. “smart at last. well first i want you naked and perfectly seated on my bed.”

your breath quivered and you gulped. you must listen. you hesitantly started with your sweater then your jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. “my, my, my, you really are beautiful, aren’t you, y/n.”

“how do you know my name?” you looked up at him.

he wrapped his hand around your throat, putting pressure there. his eyes fixated on the way your neck looked. “i heard you and your little friend. she’s smart. if i let you live then you can tell her she was right and you were wrong.”

you breathing was being shortened from his strength around your neck. his grip tightening every second. “now, i want you out of that.” he eyed your bra and panties.

“yes, sir.” you took them off, feeling embarrassed. yes he was dead and a ghost but for some reason you still were flustered. “is-is this better?” you looked away. face heating up.

he chuckled darkly, “such a good girl.” his head dipped down and kissed you. his pastel blue hair cascaded over your face. your eyebrows twisted and your hands pressed against his chest, clutching his fabric there. “mmmm,” you moaned as his tongue came out and swiped your lower lip, then intruding into your mouth, not asking, just taking. his tongue almost felt snake like. it slithering inside yours, curling and twirling.

“i haven’t been intimate with a woman in years. i too have needs. and you are going to make me feel good.” he said between kisses. his hands held onto the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. his fingers ghosted over your nipples. “so hard? if you’re so afraid then why are you so turned on, human?”

“fuck,” you moaned as you arched your back, trying to close the gap between you and him. it was your body, it was going against you.

“i want you, little one, to make me feel good. if you can make me cum, i’ll let you leave.”

your mouth was opened wide in shock. how were you supposed to do that? you felt so useless. “yes mahito.”

mahito sat on the floor and you joined him. you helped him take his shirt off and then his trousers. your eyes didn’t leave his chest. he was very well formed. his muscles protruding and his pink nipples already hard. he even had abs, trailing down to his hair above his cock which was also the grayish-blue. you took his cock and started to move your hands up and down, wanting him to feel your fingers around him. your finger nails lightly scratched the skin there. you were surprised to see it twitch a little. he moved his head back, eyes closed as he controlled his breathing. you circled his dick, making a ring with your tiny hands as you picked up the pace.

you felt powerful to have a ghost’s dick in your hand. he was enjoying himself and getting turned on.

you maneuvered his cock so that it rubbed against your cunt.

“oooh, that feels good.” mahito smiled wide. loving how you grabbed his cock and started grinding on it. the side of his dick rubbed against your clit. it was making you wet too.

“shit, fuck,” you groaned as all his veins and grooves hit your clit perfectly. the friction making you hot and a knowing feeling in the pit of your stomach. you could tell mahito was about to cum with the way his cock twitched and was swollen.

curiosity got the better of you. you had always wanted ot know what it was like to fuck a ghost. you took charge and laid mahito back and climbed on his hard dick.

“just like that, sink onto me human. i want you to fuck me so good. i haven’t been inside a cunt for years.” he heaved, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

“fuck me,” you felt impaled by his thick dick. it wasn’t long but its girth was wide. he stretched you out completely. your hands rested on his pecs and you started hopping on his cock. your boobs slapped and bounced with each move. you were riding him. loving how your weight causes him to go even deeper inside you. “that’s it, right there. all hot for me. fucking a ghost. better tell your friend or maybe your viewers how it felt to have a ghost inside you.”

“i feel so full, mahito.” you shuddered. he still felt cold to the touch. perhaps your heat could warm him up. mahito’s big hands grabbed the globes of your ass, squeezing your flesh there and slapping it, urging you to ride faster. “that’s it. ride me, human. ride me faster.” he massaged your ass, dragging you against his cock. his hands left your ass and traveled up to your neck. he squeezed tight. your vision became hazy from the breath reaching you, but you still kept fucking him. your clit was hitting deliciously on his dick. you loved how swollen he was inside you. his face contorted into a look of pure bliss. his lips were plump and swollen from his constant lip biting. you added more to that as you bent over and bit his lip. for some reason you didn’t want this but now your body needed it. it craved it. he hit your spot, over and over. you loved how it felt that he was about to split you in two with how big he was. still you kept gaining height then fell down to take him fully in, all the way to the hilt. you did that repeatedly and noticed cream on his cock, was that yours or his? you could smell sex in the air and could smell him, it was sweet almost, this was ghost cum?

mahito grabbed onto your hair, messing it up as he pulled and tugged it slightly. “that’s it. fuck me. fuck.” he couldn’t find the words. you loved bouncing on his dick, loved the face he made. “ahh, mahito. i don’t know if i can take any more.” you winced.

mahito wanted to finish, he had to. again he grabbed your neck and started annihilating you. with his ghostly strength he started pounding inside you from underneath. your mouth was in a wide o as your screams were silent. nobody has ever fucked you like this before.

“that’s it. that’s it. fuckin take it like a good little human. you know you like that.” he growled in your ear as he held your ass cheeks apart as he would exit and entere you. his cock bobbing up, making his balls slapp your cunt. it jumped up and would hit you. you coated it with your juices.

“fuck i think i’m gonna,” you cried. feeling the rise of it all.

“cum. yes, cum on my cock,” mahito urged you, snarling through his teeth. you moaned as you came. circling his cock and crying. mahito clenched your throat and groaned, feeling you contract around him. “that’s it. keep doing that. fuck.” mahito just continued inside you till you felt him about to cum. he exited and started jerking off. non-stop moaning as he cummed all over your chest and stomach. it was so much and so white. it got all over you. it was sticky and thick but still cool to the touch. that’s what was different about him.

“congrats little one. you get to live. but i’m not done with you yet.” mahito licked his lips. you were still trying to catch your breath when something caught your attention. it was the camera. this whole time it was staring directly at you and mahito and it was still recording.

“so, do you finally believe in ghosts?” mahito smirked.

your eyes shot up as you giggled sheepishly, “you heard that?

angel’s little words - i thought about this idea a while back during summer & rlly wanted to do this during halloween. and then i saw @blueparadis and @munsonsins do their collab & i thought it would be perfect! so ty for letting me enter! also isn’t our assistant so smart ＼(≧▽≦)／she left in the nick of time. i hope u liked this tho i get nervous posting different stuff esp since it’s mahito hehe

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Bloody Beetle | Part Four

Summary: life in the desert with Harrow and his creepy cult

Pairing: another one that’s mostly Arthur Harrow x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: that naughty boy Harrow is lying and manipulating people again, tut tut...

A/N: look at me posting two days in a row, who am I? For the purposes of this story, let’s just pretend Harrow has the ability to give people strength or make them need to sleep… as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Three | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

Egypt is hot. Way too hot. There’s not a single inch of your body that isn’t dripping with sweat as you follow Harrow and his disciples through the Egyptian desert. Arthur keeps you near him at all times, and you watch as the scarab that is floating above his hand directs him through the sands and suddenly points down. 

“We found Ammit. She’s here.” He says quietly before turning to face everyone and shouting in a language you don't recognise. The disciples erupt into cheers and laughs of joy. You just stand and watch them all. You don't understand how anyone could be happy about this. But then Harrow hasn’t managed to brainwash you like he has the rest of these people. 

As they celebrate Harrow is approached by Bobbi, the lady you recognise as the police officer who took you from Steven’s flat. She’s on the phone when he notices her. 

“Marc Spector is in Cairo. He’s tracking us.” She says just loud enough for you to hear, glancing over at you as she talks.

“I know.” Harrow replies quietly, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “She’s here.” 

Some of the disciples get to work on unloading the trucks and setting up huge tents while others begin digging to find the tomb. Wanting no part in any of this you take yourself a good distance away from everyone, finding a rock to sit on. Arthur sees you and comes over, sitting next to you. 

“You look displeased.” He says. 

“Well you're one step closer to freeing the crocodile lady that tried to kill me and wants to kill a whole lot of other people so, yeah, you could say I’m displeased.”

“I wish you saw things the way I do.”

“And I wish you didn’t.” You shoot back and he smirks, but not in a malicious way. He is genuinely amused by you. You look back out at his followers all working like slaves under his command. It baffles you how happy they are to be working so hard in this heat, excited at the prospect of freeing Ammit. “How did you do it?”

“How did I do what?” He responds.

“How did you convince all these people to follow you?”

“They follow Ammit, not me.” 

“But they follow Ammit because of you, right? You told them about her.”

“I guess.” he says, noncommittal, wanting you to keep talking. 

“I presumed it was just that they were lucky enough to be judged as good by her, and that’s what made them follow her. But then I realised that even if she had judged me as good instead of condemning me, I still wouldn’t believe the same thing that she does. I still wouldn’t be okay with killing people just because they might do something bad. And I just don't see how this many people can believe that that is right.”

“Everyone has their own reasons to believe what they believe.” 

“Yeah, but when those beliefs result in murder-”

“Y/N…” Harrow sighs.

“I mean what about kids? What would happen if you tested the scales, or whatever you call it, on a kid. And it turned out that they might do something that Ammit classes as evil in the future. What would happen then?” You ask, but he stays silent. “Arthur?” 

“Don't ask questions that you won’t like the answer to.” 

“You’re even worse than I thought.” You get up and start to walk away. 

“Don't go far. It’s almost time for your daily healing.” He calls after you, but you just keep walking. You need to get away from this man. 

— — — — 

About an hour has passed since your revealing talk with Harrow and the dig is still in full force. You’ve made yourself as comfortable as is possible when in the middle of a scorching hot desert surrounded by unhinged cult members. You find a small mound of sand just large enough for you to lean against and you sit on the floor. Your face up towards the bright sky, eyes closed as you try to take yourself somewhere else in your mind. 

Suddenly you hear a man cry out “Help!” And open your eyes to see the sky turn a dark shade of orange. You sit up right and search the crowd for Harrow. He may be deranged, but for some reason you feel safe when your eyes land on him. He stops digging and looks up at the sky. He doesn’t look worried all. In fact, he looks irritated. 

“Keep digging! No matter what happens, keep digging! Do not stop. I am about to be called upon.” He looks over and gestures for you to come to him. You obey, getting up and running across the sand to where he stands waiting with his cane. As soon as you reach him he lifts the hand that is holding the cane up to the side of your arm, the wooden cane pressing into your bicep slightly. “It’s time.” 

He places his other hand on your head, closing his eyes. Out the corner of your eye you notice the cane glow for a moment and then its over. He removes the hand on your head, using it to call over one of his female disciples. “Y/N is going to need to sleep now. Take her to the tent, stay there with her until I return.” 

“Praise Ammit.” She responds with a nod before taking gentle hold of you and leading you to the tent. She unzips the door for you and before you enter you turn back to look at Arthur, but he is already gone. 

Harrow was right. Once you got inside the tent you suddenly realised how much you wanted to sleep. As the woman charged with staying with you sat on a stool by the entrance, you settled down on one of the two camp beds that are set up in the room and fell almost instantly asleep. You have no idea how long you were asleep for but when you wake, Harrow has taken the place of the woman and is now sat watching you. 

“You’re back.” You say as you sit up in bed. 

“I am.” he replies simply as he stands and moves over to one of the tables in the room.

“Where did you go?” 

“I had to talk with the Ennead council but it’s sorted now. Nothing to worry about.” A small smile appears on his face. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine.”

“Good, good. I’m glad. The healing can make you feel tired for a while after so it’s important to rest.” He hands you a cup of water and sits next to you. He takes a sip from his own cup before talking again. “I saw Marc Spector tonight.” 

“Oh.” you say, trying to sound disinterested and ignore how your heart just skipped a beat at the mention of his name.

“He wanted the Ennead to put me on trial, but they saw through his lies and let me go. When I last saw him, he and Layla El-Faouly were meeting with a black market dealer-”

“Why are you telling me this?” You snap, standing up from the bed and stepping away from him.

“I thought you’d want to know.” It feels like he’s trying to wind you up, make you jealous that Marc is out there somewhere with Layla. 

“Well I don’t, okay? I do not care about Marc Spector.” You say firmly. A half truth. You don't know Marc Spector enough to care about him, but you do care for Steven and a small part of you still believes in him. 

Harrow stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay.” he says quietly before getting up and walking past you, stopping when he reaches the door. “Dinner is being served now. Once you’ve calmed down you may join us.”

He leaves and part of you wants to throw the cup of water in your hand at the door, but you don’t. Another part of you wants to just stay in this tent for the rest of the evening, but the grumbling of your stomach tells you that’s not a good idea. So you take a few breaths, finish the drink and head outside. 

— — — — 

As soon as you got outside with everyone, you wished you’d stayed in the tent. Something about the way the disciples watch you sends shivers up your spine. You get the feeling they don’t like having you around. Hushed conversations suddenly stop as you walk by. You keep catching glimpses of dirty looks and disproving stares being sent your way. If looks could kill, not even Harrow could keep you alive.

Harrow had been deep in conversation with a group of disciples so you walked straight to the food serving table and grabbed a bowl. You thanked the server who splashed a ladle of some sort of soup into your bowl and handed you a bread roll before you headed towards the table with the least amount of people sat at it. As soon as you sat down, the few people that were there got up and left, leaving you completely alone. Which you didn’t mind. At least you could eat your soup without judgement. 

Maybe its just because you haven't eaten a full meal in days, but the soup was actually delicious. You have no idea how they managed to make something so tasty with such few resources, but your empty stomach really appreciates it. A few moments later you notice the shadow of someone stood next to you. 

“May I sit?” Harrow asks, looking down at you with a sympathetic smile.

“Go ahead.” You say as you dip some bread in your soup and he sits next to you. “This is really good.” You say as you take a bite of the now soup soaked bread.

“Yes, Victor’s lentil soup. A favourite of mine.” He waves over to Victor who smiles at Harrow, but then he looks at you and his face drops.

“I don't think these people like me very much.” You try to laugh it off, but your insecurity sneaks through. 

“There are some doubts about you, I admit. Those who believe I’m wrong for sparing you after your scales judgement. But they’ll come around, once they get to know you.”

“They want me dead.” You say, a hint of sadness in your voice as you absentmindedly stir your spoon around your soup. 

“Y/N look at me.” He says and you look up, slightly startled by how close he now is. “No harm will come to you while you’re under my protection. You have my word.”

You just nod at him and he smiles, relaxing into his seat. You finish the rest of your meal in comfortable silence before Harrow offers to walk you back to the tent. 

“We’re going into the tomb tomorrow morning, as soon as the sun rises.” He says suddenly, and you don't really know how to respond. You want to try to convince him not to go, not to release Ammit. But you know there’s no point so you just say “okay” and continue walking. 

“I don't know how long I’ll be down there so I’ll need to do your healing before I go-”

“Wait, you're not taking me with you?” You ask.

“No, you must stay in the tent. I don't know what challenges I will face in there, it’s likely to be dangerous. I need to be able to focus and not be worrying about you.” 

“Why would you worry about me?” You laugh and he stops walking, turning to face you completely. 

“Because I care about you, Y/N.”

“Oh” you're surprised at his confession “Uh, I don't really know what to say to that.” 

“Then say nothing.” He says, reaching his hand out to pull back the entrance to the tent. “It’s time to sleep now. Tomorrow is a big day.” 

You enter the tent and head to the bed you’d slept in earlier. You're surprised that Harrow follows you in, placing his cane next to the other bed in the tent. 

“You're sleeping in here too?” You ask.

“Is that alright? I assure you, you are perfectly safe with me. But if you're uncomfortable I can swap with Bobbi. I’m sure she won’t mind-”

“No, no its okay. I don't mind.” You don't fully trust that Bobbi, or any of the other disciples, wouldn’t just murder you while you slept.

“Very well.” He says, climbing into bed. “Good night Y/N.” 

“Good night Arthur.”

— — — — 

The next morning you when you wake you can hear the sound of voices outside your tent. You look over and realise Harrow’s bed is empty. You get out of bed and creep closer to the tent door, listening to the conversation on the other side. 

“But sir, please, I want to help you!” The voice pleads. 

“You want to help me? This is how you help.” Harrow replies, calm but firm. “She can’t come with us, someone has to stay with her. I’m trusting you with to keep her safe.” He pauses. “Ammit has found you to be worthy enough for this important task. Don’t let her down.”

There’s sigh before the first voice simply says “Praise Ammit.”

You hear movement and quickly retreat back away from the door. A moment later Harrow and one of his disciples, a young lady, enters. 

“Y/N, this is Maya. She’s going to keep you company while I’m away.”

“Nice to meet you.” You give her a small smile, and she tries to smile back but you can tell she’s irritated. You turn your attention to Harrow. “You know I really don't need a babysitter. I’ll be fine in here on my own.” 

“I know. But just in case something were to happen, Maya will be here for you.” He moves closer to you. “Are you ready?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder and you nod. He places his other hand on your head, his cane glows and even though you’ve just woken from a full night sleep you instantly feel tired. He guides you back into bed, helping you settle in. “Sleep now. When I return, we change the world.” He says softly with a smile as you drift back into your dreams. 

— — — — 

The first thing you notice when you wake up is how quiet it is in the empty camp. It’s eery, kind of haunting. For the first time you actually almost miss Harrow and you're actually relieved he didn’t leave you completely alone. You sit up and look over to see Maya sat on the stool at the entrance, slumped against the side of the tent. She’s asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, you make your way over towards her as quietly as possible and sneak past her to the outside. 

Being alone outside sends a shiver up your spine. The camp looked abandoned, but you don't feel like you're alone. You get the same feeling you did at dinner last night, as if everyones eyes are on you. You head over to the food table and are thankful to find there’s still some porridge left over from breakfast in the serving pot. You grab yourself a bowl full and sit at one of the tables. You only get a few mouthfuls before you hear Maya shouting for you. She comes running outside, a look of panic on her face. A gun in her hand, which she lowers once she realises you're fine. She heads over to join you. 

“Why do you have gun?!” You ask in horror. 

“Harrow left it with me, so I can defend myself if I need to.” 

“Defend yourself against who?” You pause, surely not… “Against me?”

“No not you.” She tucks the gun away in her belt. “He just said if anyone shows up and tries to follow him or take you then I have to use it.”

“Who would want to take me…” you don't even finish your sentence as it sinks in. He must be talking about Marc. But if what he said before was true, then Marc wanted nothing to do with you. Maybe he knows something you don't and there are more dangerous people after you. But what would they even want with you? None of this makes sense, but it’s making you anxious. You decide to change the subject. “So, how long have you been with Harrow and everyone?” 

“Not long, only a few months now I think.”

“How did you get involved in all this?” 

“I made friends with some bad people when I was in college. Eventually they got me selling drugs and when my parents found out they kicked me out. I was living on the streets, meeting dangerous people. That’s when I met Arthur. He found me in an alley one night, tested my scales and took me in. He saved me.”

“Wow…” you don't know what to say. Looking at her, she can’t be older than 17. But already she’s been through so much. “I’m sorry you went through that.”

“It’s okay. I’m in a much better place now.” She smiles, this time it’s real. “And once we release Ammit, I’ll be able to bring justice to the people that hurt me.” There’s a few moments of quiet before Maya speaks again. “Please don't tell Harrow that I was asleep.”

“I won’t. But why does it matter?”

“I was supposed to be watching you. If he knew that I’d fallen asleep, and that you were out here alone… he’s be so angry with me.”

“But why?”

Before she can answer you hear the sound of something being knocked over in one of the other tents, startling both of you. For a second she looks panicked while she tries to work out what to do next. 

“Back to the tent. Go!” She whispers as she gets up and ushers you to move with her. She escorts you back with one hand on your back, the other hovering over her gun which is tucked into her belt. Once inside she tells you to sit back on the bed, which you do. You both stay silent as you listen out for any more movement. “I’m going to have a look around. Stay here.” She says and you agree before she disappears back out the door. 

A few more minutes pass by and you see the shadow of someone creeping around the edge of your tent. The shadow of someone too big to be Maya. You get on the floor and shuffle under your camp bed just as someone enters. You clasp your hands over your mouth as you listen to heavy footsteps move around your tent, rifling through items and baskets of papers that Harrow left on the table. Something falls to the floor and drifts down to land in front of you, some paper covered in sort of ancient text. Your heart feels like its about to pound right out of your chest as the intruder moves closer. As they crouch down to pick it up you finally get a glimpse of who it is. He looks at you like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Y/N?” the British voice you didn’t realise you’d missed so much. “Y/N! Oh thank God you’re alive!” 

Part Five

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[heartfeltcierra]

Dude where's my submarine? Part 2 of Isekaied Law X Female Reader

Part 1- Here Part 3- Here

Masterlist

AN- I'm working on the 3rd and final part currently, hopefully I'll have it up sometime next weekend!

Word count 3.5K

!!Dressrosa arc spoilers!!

Warnings/Content- Law almost burns your house down, Light cursing, Angst (Abandonment issues), Modern day content and references, Mentions of violence, Driving without a license (Guess who) , Mentions of suggestive music and suggestive content.

Enjoy ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

 

The smell of something burning jolted you from your peaceful dreams. Oh no. You jump up from the bed and run to the spare bedroom Law was in.

 “Law get up!” You slam the door open only to see the bed neatly made. He’s not here.

 “ROOM.” You faintly Law’s voice.“SHAMBLES.” In the blink of an eye you were in the smoke filled kitchen standing beside an irritated Law.

 “What happened?” There were a bunch of ingredients out on the countertops and a frying pan that had flames erupting from it. “OH HELL.” You grab the pan and run it over to your kitchen sink. More smoke fills the kitchen as the fire is doused by water. Crisis averted. “Law are you okay?” 

 “Yeah, but I can't say the same about the eggs." You could tell from his tone and flushed cheeks that he was embarrassed beyond belief. “I wanted to return the favor since you cooked for me last night, but…” He points over to your laptop that sat on the kitchen table. “I got carried away, I’m truly sorry Y/N.” 

 “Accidents happen, don’t worry about it. As long as you're okay.” You look at the pan and see no trace of egg, just a inciarated mass stuck to the bottom. “I can’t tell you how many times I’d put a pizza in the oven and forget about it. Needless to say, I've about burnt my house down plenty of times. Don’t sweat it.” Law seems grateful that you're not angry with him. “I’ll go out and get us something to make. I need to grab a few more things anyway since you’ll be here for a while!”

 “Mind if I go with you?”

 “Surel. I’ll go get ready and I’ll be right back down.”

~~~~

 “What’s this?” Law points at your parked car.

 “It’s my ‘ship’ so to say. But it’s actually called a car!” You unlock the doors with the remote, causing the headlights to blink. “In this world there are plenty of things used for transportation.  We have trains that can go across the entire country, metros in the larger cities, and even airplanes that can take you just about anywhere in the world!”

 “Wow.” His lips were slightly parted in awe. “What’s its name?”

 “Umm.. The Honda civic?” Law does a few circles around the car, surveying the unfamiliar vessel. He’s so cute. “Wait until you see the inside!”  You get into the car followed by Law.

 “I won’t lie.” Law watches as you start the engine up.. “This is pretty cool.” 

 “It is. Not to mention it's also really good on gas and in this world that says a lot because gas prices are crazy expensive and-” You look over and see Law paying you zero attention. He was too busy playing with the AC buttons to listen to your economic rant.

~~~~

 You drive down the road as Law plays with every button in the car. It was understandable, because if you ever ended up on his ship you’d explore it top to bottom. I’ve got an idea!

 “Let me show my favorite thing about the car.” You click the button that turns the radio on. The familiar upbeat pop song puts a smile on your face. “I love this song!” Word for word you sung the lyrics not caring one bit about the fact Law was right beside you. When the song ended you glance over at him to see his face was red all the way to the tips of his ears. “Law are you okay?”

 “Are lyrics like that normal?” Reality hit you. You had just sung a very suggestive and raunchy song right in front of him. You join him in blushing. I wonder what kind of face he’d make if I played WAP?

~~~~

 “So this is It.” You lock your car door and point at the blue and beige building. “Walmart~This is where you can get just about anything. Food, clothes, hygiene products, gifts, you name it, they got it.”

 “Wow…” He let out a low whistle. You smile at his bewilderment and continue walking in.

 “If you're surprised now just wait until you see the insi--” Your words get stuck in your throat when a car starts to back up right in front of you. It was pulling out too fast for you to react.

 “Y/N!” It felt like your life flashed before your very eyes. The car was inches away from hitting you, but a pair of strong arms pulled you away before it could.

 “Watch where you're walking dumbasses!” The person in the car reaches a hand out to flip you and Law off before speeding away.

 “I’ll kill that bastard.” Law grits his teeth as he holds your trembling body closer to him. It took you a moment to process that you almost got killed. 

 “It’s okay Law.” You look up at him with watery eyes. “I’m a little shaken up, but I’m not hurt and killing people is very frowned upon here.” His grip on you loosens so you can pull back. You wipe the forming tears out of your eyes. “It would be pretty embarrassing for my death to have been in a Walmart parking lot, so thanks for saving me.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood.

 “I’m glad you're alright. Still…..” 

 “It's alright Law. Let’s go on in.” Trying to change the subject, you take a few steps forward but stop when an arm wraps around your back.

 “Stay close to me in case something like that happens again.” Law must have sensed your nervousness, the angry look was replaced by his signature smirk. “But if it does I can’t make any promises on whether or not I’ll let them live.”

 ~~~~

 “This place really does have everything.” You watch as Law soaks in all of the surroundings.

 “It sure does.” You hum. “Feel free to grab whatever you want.”

 You and Law walk around without any rhyme or reason. From time to time he would stop to look at something. Your favorite thing so far is when he saw a one piece t-shirt. You could tell he was a little salty about him not being on it. 

 “Y/N.” Law leans down to grab your attention. “Why are people staring?” You look around the aisle and see that people were indeed fact staring and you knew why.

 “Your really handsome Law so of course people are going to stare.” Crap I said that outloud?

 “So you think I’m handsome Y/N?"

 “Was the shirtless figure and stories I've written about you not enough proof?” You playfully nudge your hip into his side.

 “Oh it was.” His eyes lock onto your blushing face. “But what makes you think they aren’t staring at you?” 

 “When I say this please know I’m not fishing for compliments. But for this world I’m nothing special.” You open one of the freezer section doors to retrieve a pint of ice cream. “I don't think I've mentioned, but the beauty standards in this world are quite high.”

 “Looks aren’t everything Y/N. But I think you're pretty. And weirdly charming.” The pint of ice cream in your hand almost falls into the floor. Law just called me pretty and (weirdly) charming?  “Plus you're a good person. Although I don’t know much about you yet, that much I can tell.” He grabs the ice cream from your hands and puts it in the cart.

 “Thanks.” You have to turn away to hide the giddy smile plastering your face.

 Little did you know Law could see your wide smile thanks to the reflection of the freezer's glass door. How cute

 ~~~~

 The next morning

 You woke up on the couch with Law sitting on the other end. That’s right, we stayed up watching a medical drama. He was looking at  something on your laptop with an evil smirk. What did he find this time?

 “That’s a pretty sinister look you got going on Law?” You poke his leg with your foot to get his attention. He turns his head before spinning the screen towards you.

 “I could watch this all day.” You squint your eyes to read the video's title. ‘Doflamingo getting his ass kicked to dubstep music- 10 hour loop.’ “I wish it was me in all honesty, but I do enjoy seeing that bastard get his ass handed to him by Strawhat.”

 “I’m sure you do.” You refrain from laughing. It was hilarious seeing how satisfied he looked every time Luffy’s foot kicked the side of Doflamingo’s head. “Want to know something kind of funny Law?” He pauses the video and nods. “So there was an episode in the Dressrosa arc titled "Law Dies - Luffy's Raging Onslaught!”. When I saw the title I started balling my eyes out. I thought you were going to die.” It is funny to you now, but back then you were going through all the stages of grief at once.

 “I thought I was going to die back then too.” Law shuts the laptop and places it back on the coffee table. “But, I’m glad I didn’t. It’s not what he would have wanted.” 

 “You're talking about Cora, aren’t you?” Law nods. 

 “Yeah, I am.” A bittersweet smile forms on Law’s lips. “He was my savior. He got me out of a dark mindset. I owe everything to him.” He turns his head to face you. “Did you ever have anyone like that in your life?”

 “Well if I’m being honest.” Not one real person comes to mind. Everyone in your life has left or abandoned you. But there was still someone who got you through some hard times. “As odd as this may sound, It’s kinda you.” His eyes widened at your declaration. “You are my favorite character for a reason. There’s been many times I’ve had a bad day and seeing you would make me feel better. It's weird to explain but someone told me once that humans in my universe can’t tell the difference between real people and fictional people. Our brains process them as if they were real. So it’s probably the reason why…” 

 “Well I am real.” Law held his hand up. His words remind you that the character you adore is literally a few feet away from you in the flesh. You scooch over to him and bring your hand up to his. “See?” You smile feeling his warm hand against yours. “I may not be from this universe, but I’m still real and I will always be.” 

 “Yeah. You're right.” You pull your hand away and wipe a few tears from your eyes. 

 “Are you crying?” Law asked with concern in his voice.

 “Yeah, but I’m okay.” They weren't sad tears, they were more tears of relief and comfort than anything. “Fun fact about me, I cry easily.” You laugh and dry the rest of the tears off with your sleeve. “I’m sorry I dampened the mood, but I do have an idea to lighten it. And I think you’ll like it.”

 “What do you have in mind?”

 “I say me and you go out.” He shoots you a smirk as if to say ‘go on’. “Have you ever had hibachi?”

~~~~

 Seeing how cute you look in the mirror brought a smile to your face. Since you were going out with Law you got a little dressed up for the occasion .You went with a (F/C) dress that compliments your body's shape and a cute pair of sandals. After one last glance over you walk downstairs to wait on Law.

 You walk to your front door only to see Law already dressed and waiting for you. He turns around to face you and Oh my God.. To say he looked good would be such an understatement. He wore the dark maroon button up you got him with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his arm tattoos. He also had on the jeans you secretly wanted to see him wear. They may look like a simple pair of black jeans, but the silver chains decorating his thighs made them stand out.

 “Are you ready to go?” Law waves his hand in front of your face in an attempt to snap you out of your trance.

 “Oh right.” Judging from the smirk on his face, he knew you were checking him out. It’s not my fault you look like a model. “Let’s go.” You grab your car keys and purse before heading out the door.

~~~~

 “Here we are!” You got out of the car with Law and stood in front of the restaurant. “Are you ready?” 

 “Of course I am.” 

~~~~

A few moments later…

 “Y/N why is the food on fire?!” Law leans back in his chair as if the flames were going to get him. I thought you were ready?

 “It’s okay Law.” You place your hand on his back. “I’ll protect you from the big bad onion volcano.”

 “Is he okay?” The hibachi chef laughs seeing how skittish Law was.

 “Yeah he's fine." You laugh and give Law a few pats on the back. "He acts like he’s not from this world or something.”

 “Here.” The chef held up the bottle filled with sake in front of Law. “A little something to calm your nerves.” He hesitates for a moment but opens, letting the chef send the sake right into his mouth. The chef stops once Law’s mouth is full and goes right back to cooking. His golden eyes stare into your soul as he swallows the liquid in one gulp. That was kinda hot. He wiggles his index finger, motioning you to lean closer to him.

 “I hope teasing me was worth it.” His voice was low in your ear. What does that mean? “And the sake in your world sucks.”

 You spend the rest of your (last) meal thinking just what diabolical thing Law was going to do to you. Is he going to chop my body up? Or maybe he’ll take my voice box? Or…

 “Y/N are you ready to go?” Law’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

 “Oh yeah.” You stood up with Law. “Thank you for the food, it was delicious!” 

 “You're welcome. I hope you and your boyfriend have a goodnight!” You and Law look at each with wide eyes, but neither you or him corrected the man.

 ~~~~

 “So did you like the food?” You buckle up and turn the engine on. Please don’t kill me.

 “I did, but don’t think for a second that I forgot about you teasing me.” Your body freezes up at his words. I wonder what kind of flowers will be at my funeral?  “ROOM.” Your eyes slam shut. Goodbye cruel world..  “SHAMBLES.” You open your eyes to see you're still alive and intact, but you are now in the passenger seat. 

 “Law! You don’t know how to drive?” You panic seeing him put the car in drive. “That and you don’t have a driver's license? What if we get pulled over?” 

 “Sure I know how, I’ve watched you do it enough to figure it out.” Law gives the car a little gas. “And what’s the big deal of not having a license and getting pulled over?”

 “Umm I don’t know Law, maybe it’s the fact WE'D GET ARRESTED.” Your eyes watch his every move like a hawk. 

 “Have you forgotten I’m a pirate Y/N? Plus I have the advantage over everyone in this world.” He was right. No one could stop Law with his devil fruit power. “So relax. It will be okay.” You roll your eyes at his nonchalant attitude.

 “Fine. Just be careful.” Law smirks triumphantly and continues driving. Despite your initial fear, Law was actually a good driver. His movements were smooth and calculated, very fitting for his character. He was gentle with the brakes, (And unlike most drivers) he used the turn signals. You can’t help but be jealous seeing how he was a true natural.

 “Aren’t you going to sing?” Law gestures towards the radio. 

 “Do you want me to?” You raise your brow suspiciously.

 “Yeah I do. Maybe something different this time though.” He smirks remembering all the dirty words that came from your mouth the other day.

 “Sure, let me hook my phone up.” You plug your phone in and scroll through your playlist. A smile forms on your lips seeing the title of your favorite slow songs. The soft melody comes through the speakers as you sing. 

 In that moment Law didn’t care if you sounded like an angel that had freshly ascended from heaven or if you sounded like two pieces of metal grinding together. He was just happy to hear you doing something you enjoy. 

So she likes to sing?

~~~~

 It had been a few days since you and Law went out. In that time you’ve grown more comfortable with each other. He’s opened up to you about things from his past, even telling you things that the show never went over. He also told you all the stories from his early years of being a pirate and how he met Bepo and the rest of the crew. With that being said you’ve also been spilling more details about yourself. Everything from embarrassing stories from your childhood, the questionable things you did as a teenager and even a few funny stories from your current adult life. 

  Despite all the fun your having, your heart hurts knowing you only have a little time left with Law.  Having him around reminded you how nice it was to have someone to talk to. But when he's gone… I need to live in the moment and quit thinking about what’s to come.

"You seem lost in thought Y/N." You turn your attention to Law who's sitting at the other end of the couch. "What's on your mind?" You.

"It's nothing." You lie and go back to scrolling through your phone.

"You really think I'm going to buy that?" Law made his way over to you and took your phone from your hands."Talk to me."

"Well." Your eyes stray away from his fierce gaze. "I was just thinking about how boring things are going to be when your gone."

"Way to kill the vibes Y/N." You laugh hearing Law copy your lingo. "But I've been thinking about some things myself."

"What's on the surgeon of deaths mind?"

“I do go back to my world in two days...” His tone turns serious. “And you’ll be alone again and the thought of that has been bothering me.” You frown. I know I will. “With that being said. I need you to promise me that you will go out and try to make some friends." His request floors you. The painful memories of people leaving you and abandoning you come flooding in, but a tattooed hand pulls you out before you can drown. "Things may not work out at first but keep trying. I'm sure there are people out there that are just as weird and dorky as you." Law teases to clear the building tension in the room.

 “Is there something wrong with me being weird and dorky?" You give Law a heavy dose of side eye.

"Actually." Law leans in a little closer to you ear. "I like it." You could feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear. "I like it alot." He blows into you ear causing you to jerk away from him.

You retreat to the far end of the couch while nervously watching him. "Are you done teasing me?" The devilish smirk on his face said it all. His tattooed hand grabs a pillow placing it next to him. "Law what are you doing?

"Whatever I want to." "ROOM." Dammit. "SHAMBLES." Your body takes the pillows spot next to Law. "Now." Your heart felt like it was going to leap from your chest as he lazily wraps a arm around your shoulders. "Do you think you can keep that promise?"

"Yeah, I will. But only if you stop teasing me." A satisfied hum comes from Law hearing your answer.

"Good. And in what way am I teasing you?" Law tries to sounds innocent knowing full well the affect he has on you. "Also you might want to breathe before you black out."

"My breathing is just fine. thank you." I need to calm down.

"Your a bad liar Y/N." You were about to defend yourself but every function in your body stopped working as his fingers ghost around to the side of your neck. "But this tells me everything I need to know." Two fingers tap over your pulse point. "Tachycardia is a very dangerous condition if left untreated, luckily for you I'm a Doctor~"

"Well Doctor, what is the cure for it?" You say sarcastically.

"ASMR videos of people cutting soap should do the trick. " He grabs the laptop from the coffee table and pulls up youtube. "Just so you know my medical expertise comes at a high cost and I expect you to pay in full." You roll your eyes and relax against his chest.

"Just bill my insurance."

[rikeijo]

Today's translation #585

Febri vol. 40, Toyonaga Toshiyuki x Uchiyama Koki interview

Part 11.

((💀This part can be really upsetting, so proceed with caution. In addition to unfavorable interpretation of Y&V relationship, it's also full of Jp brand of homophobia))

-- Hearing your explanation about that scene, a thought came to my mind that it was like a very realistic argument of a couple (laugh).

Toyonaga: Yes, yes, that's right! One person gets very emotional, but at the same time the other person is the opposite, very composed. That's why I think that the way we acted was closer to slice of life shows than anime. For me it was a bit of a shock, like "I see, so this is another possible interpretation, huh".

-- How do you see the relationship between Victor and Yuuri from your perspective, Toyonaga-san?

Toyonaga: Hmmm... From Yuuri's point of view, the Legend that, in the beginning, he was looking up to, tells him that he's going to be his coach, and is so close to him, so for Yuuri it probably felt as if he was dreaming. And from there, their relationship slowly started to be that of a coach and his student, I think. But from Victor's perspective, I think it all started from a surprise, a place of "what should I do next?". So he's using Yuuri quite a bit - or in other words, I think for him it all started from something like: "It will be interesting if I become a coach and make a Japanese skater win, won't it?". But as the story progresses, he starts to get inspired by Yuuri more and more... That's why I don't think it's a relationship that you can describe easily. They are not friends, and there isn't really a hierarchy in their relationship, so it's not really a master and a student relationship either.

-- And they're not simply rivals.

Toyonaga: Yeah. Having said that, to the question if they are lovers or not, I think that no, they are not. If you call that "love", it a deeper kind of love. I think that for Yuuri, as he said, Victor had a bigger impact on him than his family, so I think that they have a stronger relationship than a family usually has.

-- Listening to you right now, I thought that their relationship is close to a relationship of comedian duo...

Toyonaga: Yeah, it is perhaps something close to that. They don't talk with each other that much, and have separate dressing rooms, but they are tied together with an invisible string. And when the stage curtain goes up, they do their job nicely. I think that this is the kind of relationship that they built as the story progressed.

[Notes: 💀💀💀 Jp brand of homophobia, the kind of "why do you need to have what the "normal" people have?", "why do you need to get married like "normal" people do?" + when it's a man and a woman, then it's just "romantic love", but when it's a same sex relationship then "romantic love" is deemed not "good" enough, all of sudden, it has to be more "noble" and "pure" to be acceptable - you can very often see fujos referring to same sex relationships, such as that of Y&V, as "big feelings"... Even though they draw porn of the characters to get off as a hobby, at the same time a lot of fujos still firmly believe that referring to canon relationships as "gay" or "romantic" or "sexual" is offensive. Toyonaga here does exactly the same thing - "they are not lovers and if you call their relationship 'love', then it's a deeper kind of love😊" - I wonder if he has the same opinion of his own relationship if he has a girlfriend/wife - that it's somehow a worse kind of love, because it's romantic 🤔? I bet, he doesn't.

It's just pure discrimination, for the sake of discrimination, "I'm normal, you're not - you shouldn't have what normal people have" - there is no "religious beliefs" involved, for example.

Also why they suggest that comedian duos are not even friends or talk to each other? 💀 I'm sure a lot of those duos are best friends...

This interview was published March 1st, 2017 - there was a lot of talk about backtracking around that period, and you can see it here, too, imo.]

[scarfwrites]

um so (I'm so sorry I'm new to tumblr and I have never asked a question so I don't really know how this works, I apologise if I am doing something wrong) so I was going to ask if you can write a short fan fic iwaizumi x reader (female or gn) basically the reader is insecure and they start overthinking their relationship, iwa reassures them and showers them with sm love but I want it to be a little angsty in the beginning and then fluff, it's alright if you ignore this request, btw I wanted to say that your writing is awesome :)

Enough For Me

❅Genre : Fluff, Comfort, Angst

❅Pairings:  Iwaizumi x Reader

❅Warnings: none

❅ Summary : You couldn’t brush of those thoughts that told you that you weren’t good enough for Iwaizumi. But Iwaizumi reassures you are more than enough for him

❅A/N : I just wanna say thank you for the request! DW you’re doing great! I loved making this (mostly because iwa is my fav hehe) Also thank you so much! It honestly makes me really happy that you like my works 💙💙💙

This also made me slightly tear up 

As you make your way to the bleachers you see the crowds of people cheering for your boyfriends team. From the liveliness you can assume that his team was winning. It made you smile seeing the people cheer for Hajime everytime he landed a spike. The unwavering support your boyfriend’s team gets is something you wish you’d have in your performances.

“To you!” Oikawa sets the ball to the ace to which he spikes, causing their final point and ending the game in their victory.  The crowd's cheering is almost deafening. You hear the people around you talking to each other about the game.

|“Oikawa’s sets are so good!” |

|“No wonder why their team won!”| 

|“Have you seen their ace Iwaizumi? His strength and power are unmatchable to the other team”|

|“They’re all so handsome! Do you think we could have a chance with  Iwaizumi or Oikawa”|

|“Do you see how well they play? Only someone as talented as them would have any sort of chance with one of them”|

That last sentence stung your heart deeply. You’ve always felt like you weren’t enough for Hajime. Before the thoughts could fully cloud your mind you brushed it off as it was time to celebrate, afterall your boyfriend’s team just won. You waited outside the locker room but as you see Oikawa and Hajime walk out they get clouded by a lot of fan girls. You hid behind a pillar in order to not get caught by the crossfire from the amount of squealing the fangirls were making.

“You’re so amazing Oikawa!” A fangirl squealed

“You did so well!” Another fangirl squealed

“Thank you but no need for the flattery afterall I couldn’t have done it without my team” Oikawa said nobly making Iwaizumi roll your eyes which you couldn’t help but giggle 

“So talented and such a gentleman!” the fangirls let out a ear shattering scream

“You did so well with those spikes Iwaizumi!” a fangirl praised which surprised Hajime

“Thank you?” He responded astonished as he wasn’t used to getting compliments when Oikawa was right next to him

“You’re so strong! And so fit! Surely you’ve got a girlfriend!” The fangirl scanned Hajime’s build 

“Uh yeah I do” Hajime scratched the back of his head

“That girl must be as talented as you! They must be so lucky! I’m so jealous!” the girls continued to squealed 

You felt your heart sink again. You were glad of course that Hajime was getting praised, afterall he most definitely deserves it. He’s been open about feeling insecure that he wasn’t as good as Oikawa. But at the same time you couldn’t help but feel that belief makes you unworthy of him. Sure in academics you both would be equally matched but anything other than that you felt below him. Those praises just reminded you of how unworthy you are compared to him. The fog in your head lifts as you feel someone’s hand placed on your shoulder.

“Y/N? Why are you awkwardly standing there? You look so lost” Iwaizumi chuckled to himself

“Oh sorry! I was just thinking of something” you lied

“Is anything bothering you? You can tell me anything” Iwaizumi held your hands a gesture making your heart flutter

“Yeah I know don’t worry” you smiled making Iwaizumi smile back as he looked over to his friend

“Looks like Shittykawa over there is getting too ahead of himself again” Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at the captain surrounded by his fangirls

“When is he not” you joked making Iwaizumi chuckle

“I’ve gotta get going,” Oikawa smiled, trying to leave “Iwa-chan! Y/N-chan! A little help!” Oikawa called out as the both of you look at each other

“Wanna ditch him?” Hajime smirked which you nod mischievously 

“HEY! WHERE ARE YOU BOTH GOING?! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!” you hear Oikawa’s voice echoing as the two of you dash out of there leaving him with his fangirls

Your mind was clouded with all those thoughts about what people said to your boyfriend. Were you really enough for him? You tried so hard not to give in to those thoughts but everywhere you went with him as people stared you couldn’t stop those thoughts from plaguing your mind. As you walk down the hallways you see people all around you staring at the both of you. You try to look away and fight those thoughts but you couldn’t help it with all those whispers in your head.

|“Are they dating?”|

|“Iwaizumi has a girlfriend?”|

|“Isn’t that the same person who follows his team like a dog?”|

“Hey, are you alright?” You both stopped as you look to see Iwaizumi’s concerned face

“Huh? oh yeah! I’m fine” you faked a smile as Iwaizumi reaches one hand to wipe a tear from your eyes

“Y/N you were squeezing my hand and now you’re tearing up” Iwaizumi held your cheek “Hey, if there’s anything wrong you can tell me” Iwaizumi looked you eye to eye as you felt overwhelmed with those thoughts

One side desperately wanted to tell him, another side was convinced of how much of a hassle you were being and confessing to your problems would only add on to that.

“Y/N I’m here for you… If anything’s bothering you we get through this together right?” Iwaizumi spoke softly though as you were about to speak you hear the bell ring signalling that class was about to start

“Oh! We’re both gonna be late!” You panicked as you try quickly to get away 

“Y/N…” Iwaizumi frowned

“Let’s talk later! We can’t be late!” you chuckled nervously as Iwaizumi

calls out to you though you had already ran away towards your classroom making him sigh

Your heart sank well knowing that Iwaizumi is now worrying about you. You really didn’t want to feel more of a hassle then you already were. As Iwaizumi went towards the gym all he felt was distress knowing something was bothering you. You were the type to always be helpful and kind towards others, putting them first and never speaking about your own well being. You were always great comforting him and his team with their own problems but now he couldn’t do anything to find what’s been bothering you.

“Earth to Iwaizumi!” Makki waves a hand at Iwaizumi’s face

“Sorry…” Iwaizumi wiped his face as he stood up

“Something bothering you?” Makki asked as he looked at the vice captain

“Something’s bothering Y/N and they won’t tell me anything” Iwaizumi sighed deeply

“They have been acting differently lately” Makki noted

“Sounds like Y/N alright” Matsun commented

“That reminds me they never spoke about their problems like… ever?” Oikawa put a finger on his chin as he thought

“Yeah unlike you” Makki and Matsun snickered as Oikawa glared at the both of them

“They were slightly tearing up earlier today… Something bad is bothering them a lot” Iwaizumi frowned 

“After school why don’t you talk to them? Or better yet when they come here while we’re on break” Oikawa suggested placing his hand on his best friend’s shoulder as he nodded

Iwaizumi waited and waited for you to come to the gym, but you never came. Even during their break which you usually come with to spend time with the whole team you weren’t present. He wasn’t worried till hometime as you were nowhere to be seen. 

"That’s weird Y/N hasn’t visited us once today" Oikawa said as he drank water

"Do you think they’re avoiding me?" Iwaizumi spoke looking down

"Maybe they don’t want to talk about what’s been bothering them?" Kindaichi spoke his mind out loud

"Y/N always avoids confrontation so it could be true" Matsun nodded 

"Why don’t we all look for them around the school and if they aren’t there we’ll call their friends" Oikawa suggested as Iwaizumi got up and ran out quickly

"And off he goes" Makki said

Iwaizumi looked everywhere for you but you were nowhere to be found. Were you really avoiding him? He was about to give up searching for you till he remembered your favourite spot where you both hung out if you wanted to spend time alone together. He rushed towards the backstage in the auditorium and found you sitting in your room.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Iwaizumi rushed towards your aid as his eyes widened in shock seeing your teary-eyed face 

“H-Hajime? I didn’t know you were all still here!” You tried wiping the tears off your face as you were embraced with a tight hug 

“I’m sorry for not being here Y/N…” he spoke softly as his hug tightened “Please, whatever’s been bothering you… let me be there for you” you hear his voice quiver as he never let go

You felt a rush of emotions overwhelm you. It was a first letting everything out of you in front of someone let alone your boyfriend. You’ve never shown Iwaizumi your vulnerable side, afraid of what he’d think of you. You felt so relieved that you were able to show him that you were feeling bothered after so long. Iwaizumi felt a wave of despair now knowing how much you’ve bottled inside from the amount of tears you poured. You felt his tight hug never let go accompanied with his words to comfort you. You felt all the tension and insecurities wash away and after a while you stopped crying.

“You ready to talk now?” Iwaizumi asked softly as he rubbed your back while you silently nod

“I’m sorry for all this…” you spoke quietly as he gave a sympathetic look

“It should be me apologising… I’m sorry you’ve had to bottle all this up” Iwaizumi expressed his remorse

“No… I shouldn’t have hidden this from you… I knew you wouldn’t hate me but… I didn’t want to be a hassle to you with all this unnecessary problems” you looked down as your eyes start to tear up again

“Don’t say your problems are unnecessary they’re just as important as anyone else’s” Iwaizumi placed his hand on your chin to face him “You’re never a hassle to me” he smiled softly 

“What’s been bothering you?” He looked at you

“Everyone’s always saying how you should get someone as talented as you or Oikawa. No one looks at me at my performances the way people look at you hitting a great spike. It makes me feel that you don’t deserve me and deserve someone better” you explained everything that’s been bothering you making the sadness you felt come crashing back in

“Hey hey, don’t say that about yourself you are more than enough for me” he wiped the tears falling from your cheeks “You aren’t untalented, you can sing beautifully enough to move us all. You are incredibly sympathetic and kind compared to anyone I've ever met. You put all of us first before yourself and you always cheer us up when we're down. If anything that makes you so much more of a great person” Iwaizumi smiled as he described what he thought of you making you blush beet red “You shouldn’t beat yourself up Y/N I don’t care about what any of those people say” he said firmly “You’re not perfect but you’re more than enough for me and I love you for that” He leaned in and pulled you for a soft peck on your lips

“Thank you Hajime…” you smiled softly as you buried your head in his chest making him chuckle

“Anytime, love” he softly whispered to you

[sophieinwonderland]

It could be satire. They could also be someone experiencing psychosis or paranoia. Honestly I think with extreme beliefs, it’s best to not engage in the event that this is a person experiencing a mental illness. Engaging will exacerbate.

Regarding DID without trauma, research suggests a propensity towards dissociation in infants when there’s attachment issues with the mother. A mother doesn’t have to be abusive for this to happen. She could very well be trying her best, but perhaps is having her own struggles, interfering with her ability to connect with her child. And then of course there are cases where the mother is absent, maybe she died during birth or shortly after, or the child was put up for adoption. Another factor is the child’s temperament and how this lack of attachment may play into it. The first few years of life, despite not being remembered, are incredibly impactful for setting the foundation for development. There are so many studies showing evidence of the importance of secure attachment in infancy, not only in humans but other species as well.

Just want to confirm for anyone still on the fence that I'm aware of who anti-lies is, and that it's absolutely satire.

On the whole, I find the attachment theory interesting.

But... I do want to note that I have skepticism of it and may need to look further into it to see what all variables have been accounted for, since correlation doesn't always equal causation.

One thing to always remember is how shark attacks increase with ice cream sales. There's a correlation there. But neither causes the other.

In this case, maybe the issue is that there are specific types of abuse that children are more likely to endure from parents if they had poor attachment to their mother.

To be clear, I'm not opposed to this theory. Just rambling off other possibilities because these are the types of things that go through my head when data is discussed.

And I think that actually could be an interesting find in itself. "Trauma" is vague. But I wonder if there have been studies categorizing different types of trauma most experienced by DID systems in childhood, and comparing those categories to singlets with c-PTSD as controls.

"DID is most often caused by trauma" is a solid start, but what if we could go further and say "DID is most often caused by traumas X, Y and Z?"

...

Yeah, sorry, rambling again..

Hmm... thinking further... I do think the poor attachment theory makes a lot of sense. Like, people theoretically develop a unified sense of self based on observing other people. It seems to use those same mechanisms, right.

But if you aren't attached to people enough, your brain may never make the connection that "I'm supposed to be one single person."

Or...

...

When my host's mom talked about her trauma, one thing I remember is that she described feeling like she had a good dad and a bad dad. That's how she coped with what was going on. And while she's not a system, from what I know, this is a pretty common way for trauma survivors to perceive their caregivers isn't it?

So maybe that's a risk factor. If your brain is perceiving caregivers as multiple people, it learns that it's normal to be multiple? And thus, the multiplicity is emulating how the child sees their caregivers.

...

Yeah, sorry, I'm not sure where I'm going with this.

Some of these posts, I have a clear plan or point I'm making.

Others, I just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

This post is clearly the latter.

This is just a really interesting topic to me, and I like to ramble about it.

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Hey 18-20 year olds? You’ve only just started the hardest part of growing up: learning how the hell to do that and how to be an adult. And yeah, I’m in the same boat, here’s some things that have helped me so far

- a friend who is older than you

My best friend is 7 years older than me, and he’s been able to give me so much advice on personal philosophy, how to work on personal issues, etc.

- a friend who holds you accountable/is very honest with you

having a friend who will take you aside and tell you “x thing you’re doing is actually making y hard/unfun/stressful/etc.” is more valuable than yes men friends. These are the friends who will question life decisions if they seem to make you unhappy, in the pursuit of making sure you’re exactly where you need to be.

- learning how to make accountable apologies

Here’s how I structure my apologies now, and I’ve had not only good reactions and conversations afterwards, but I’ve had to use them in various ways. “I’m sorry about x. Y was happening, and instead of doing x thing I should have done z thing. Again, I’m sorry.” It not only has removed the loathed “but”, but it also allows for explanation and a plan on how to avoid it. I will also sometimes add “I’ll try my best to do z thing” if I know I’m going to need some time to fully erase the mistake if it was a habit, but in general that helps a lot.

- start trying to find who is a small dose person and who’s a large dose person

What is a small dose person? For example: I know someone who I can only be around for maybe an hour when with other people before I become irritated by their presence. Is it their fault I’m irritated by them? No, and they’ll never know I am. Because I’m only around them for around an hour once every few months. That’s small dose. It’s the “you’re not a bad person I just cannot be around you for long periods of time”.

- if things you read on social media/the internet make you emotional, restructure how you spend your time

Here’s a really hot take. For those who were tuned in for the dungeons and dragons drama, I’m about to tell you guys something crazy. The draft that was leaked was actually incredibly lenient (I can’t remember what it was called haha). How do I know this? I could tell I was getting a little heated and sent it to a friend who knows way more about that sort of stuff and asked for his opinion, and he told me about other examples of it that were more harsh but not lambasted. If you read a headline or a post or tweet and get up in arms, take a step back and take a breath. You don’t have the time to get emotional about every little thing, you’re too busy growing up.

- make friends or acquaintances who don’t believe the same thing as you

My best friend is a centrist who leans more right than left. I am more left leaning than he is by a good amount. We both have very enlightening conversations because of that. Here’s the funny thing, I do hold some right leaning beliefs anyways because that better supports the area I live in. I don’t want the government grabbing the land around me because they’ve proven to be incompetent. I’m fine with looser gun control because there have been times where mountain lions just. Appear in my city. We have an overpopulation of wolves right now. A few other ones I don’t feel like sharing. My friend has changed how he views certain issues and so I have I because we talk about what we disagree about. If they respect you, they’ll debate but not argue

- not everything is about you

Building off that last point, not every counterpoint is an attack on you. It can feel like it, because you’re still expanding the telescope you see out of into two working eyes (I’m still getting there too), so being able to say to yourself that this is either a) bigger than you or b) not about you at all can help you get through more conversations more levelheaded

- you’re in puberty

Final thing: your body is still a hormonal war zone. Emotions are heightened, thought processes are everywhere, you are still growing up. Give yourself time. And grace. And kindness.