#anyway. happy birthday week to one of two men who matter to me at all

[preseriesdean]

You think I'm bad? Wait 'til you meet the other one.

SAM WEEK 2023 6.22, “THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH”

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 3

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

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Warnings: a tiny bit suggestive content if you squint

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Sunday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 3: Happy Birthday Captain!

Chapter summary: It was the first time in 3 weeks that Law decided to surface the Polar Tang to dock at an island before heading into the New World. But as soon as he hops off the submarine, you launch your biggest and most exciting plan yet: hosting a birthday party for your dear captain Law! But for your plan to work, you need to avoid and distract him before the party!

Notes: I created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it! I flew back home today and wrote this on the plane lol. Also, this is more of a fluffy chapter hope you guys enjoy it!

PS. I also made changes to the previous chapters, now saying Law was 25 instead of 26 so that it can fit in the story lol

wc: 5.3k

Penguin and Shachi were sitting in the boiler room. They just finished patching up the damage they made from a week ago when you and the two men were playing ice water poker. It was insanely hot in the boiler room since it was below the submarine, so Penguin and Shachi had their boiler suits unzipped and tied to their waist by the sleeves. 

Shachi fell to the floor and slumped on the nearby wall. "Man, I am so tired. I'm also bored, and I hope the captain decides to surface soon to dock at an island," he complained.

Penguin looked down at him and nodded his head in agreement. "It's been 4 weeks since we surfaced. It's starting to heat up like crazy in the Tang and if we don't surface soon we'll be boiled alive here." he sighed. 

Before Shachi was going to continue the conversation, the two men heard stomping that was coming near them. Then suddenly, the door of the boiler room burst open. It was Bepo.

"Penguin! Shachi! Get up!" the Mink said with urgency.

Shachi scrambled to get up while Penguin looked at Bepo in confusion. "Why did you lug your big ass into the boiler room like that? What happened?" Penguin inquired.

The bear shamefully put his head down and muttered an apology.

Shachi pinched Penguin's butt. The poor man yelped in surprise at the unusual action of his best friend. "You shithead! What was that for?"

Shachi grunted and ignored him. "Bepo, is something the matter?" he asked.

Bepo's head suddenly perked up. "We're going to surface in an hour! And we're docking at a nearby island!"

Penguin and Shachi started jumping in glee. "Finally! I missed going to bars and hitting up ladies!" they both chanted.

However, their cheers were suddenly interrupted. "You will not be doing that," you called out behind Bepo. You suddenly stepped out and presented yourself to your crew-mates who had no idea about your presence. 

The three of them screamed in shock. Bepo screamed the loudest.

"(Y/N)-SAN!!! DON'T FRIGHTEN ME LIKE THAT!" the bear screamed.

You let out a hearty laugh and waved your hand. "Sorry sorry." you apologized. You felt a glare being sent your way. You turned your head to see that Shachi and Penguin were staring holes into you, clearly agitated that you scared them. You rolled your eyes and huffed.

"Anyways, you will not be going to bars, nor are you hitting up the ladies when we surface." you declared.

Shachi huffed in annoyance and Penguin made a sour face. "And why would we not do that? You're not our captain so don't tell us what to do!" Penguin angrily retorted.

You glared back at them. "Did you forget that the captain's birthday was tomorrow?" 

The two men stood still. "Aw shit we almost forgot! The captain is turning 26!" Penguin said in realization. 

"We're terrible friends, I've known him since he was 14 and I forgot his birthday?" Shachi sighed.

Your eyes suddenly gleamed with mischievousness. Bepo shivered at the sight. He knew your look; it meant you were up to no good. 

"Exactly, so you better help me with this huge party I'm planning to throw for our dear captain." you cheekily replied. 

Bepo looked at the two men in front of him, and they both returned eye contact. It seemed like they were silently coordinating their answers. Then Bepo suddenly turned around and glanced down to face you. 

"Okay (Y/n)-san, we're in. What do you need us to do?" Bepo asked.

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The Heart Pirates were gathered at the dock of the Polar Tang. They were rapidly approaching the land of destination, which was apparently, according to Bepo who was the navigator of the crew, a tropical island. Law was displeased since he hailed from the North Blue where it was constantly cold and snowing, but for the sake of restocking supplies, he decided that it was best for the crew to settle for the night before heading into the New World. 

Law stood near the bow of the submarine dock. He was donning his signature spotted hat that was shaped like a cap. He discarded his usual floor-long black coat and opted for a white wifebeater with spotted blue jeans, along with his usual black shoes. He had his arms folded while he was instructing the crew on what needed to be done. 

"Alright everyone, we are docking here and staying for the night. It's been 3 weeks since we last surfaced and we need to restock on supplies. Ikkaku and Bepo, restock on medical supplies because SOMEBODY," Law quickly glared at you before continuing, "ran our month's worth of medical gauzes dry."

The crew broke out in a small fit of laughter. You rolled your eyes as you muttered; "Whatever."

"Shachi, assist (Y/N)-ya in gathering food and ingredients. And please, try not to buy flour or bread," he asked. 

Shachi, who was standing next to you, elbowed you mischievously. You winced in fake pain and attempted to snatch his orca-shaped hat from his head, but he stuck out his hand to shove your face away. 

Law witnessed the quarrel and shook his head. He sighed and continued to speak to the crew. "Hakugan and Penguin, I need you two to take the rest of the crew minus Jean Bart into the nearby city and search for other supplies. No pillaging and attacking civilians unless there are Marines. Jean Bart, you're coming with me, we have some other business to attend to."

"What other business do you have?" Hakugan pipped up.

"I will be searching if there's a log pose I can take or a Poneglyph I can find." the captain answered.

You were puzzled. This was just some random small island, so there was no way the captain could find a Poneglyph nearby and he should know that. But you brushed it aside because he probably knew something that you didn't know. 

Law turned away and waved his hand. "You are all dismissed," he announced. 

"Yes, captain!" you and the rest of the crew said. The whole crew dispersed, continuing their activities. You started walking inside the Polar Tang with Ikkaku.

"Now Ikkaku, did you make sure the captain doesn't know about this plan?" you whispered to her.

Your crewmate and close friend gave you a thumbs up. "No one has said a single word about it to the captain!" she confirmed.

Bepo caught up to your pace and lowered his head to talk to you. "(Y/n)-san, the rest of the crew is gathered in the dining hall," he said.

You turned to your right and gave the polar bear a thumbs up. The three of you made your way into the dining hall where the rest of the crew was standing. They were all excitedly talking about what they were planning to do once they set foot on the island. You walked to the centre and the chatter started to die down as you started to speak.

"Everyone! As you know, tomorrow is the captain's birthday," you announced.

The crew started to cheer loudly, but you quickly hushed them. "Quiet you guys! This is going to be a surprise party! Now, we're going to check out the local pub and see if we can hold a celebration there. What I need everyone to do is help me the captain. Now I know he said he was going somewhere else but for some reason, I have a gut feeling that he's not telling the truth." you preached.

The crew grunted and nodded in response. You continued. "Now the main objective is to keep the captain away from us as we run our errands! I'll give everyone a heads-up of which tavern we're going to be meeting at. Also, don't forget to buy a gift for our dear captain! We want to make sure he has an awesome day for his birthday." You said.

Hakugan raised his hand. "But (Y/n), why are we celebrating tonight instead of tomorrow on his actual birthday?" he inquired.

"Think about it, you know the captain hates celebrations like this right? Usually, if we hold his birthday in the Polar Tang, he will go to his room and not come out. However, if we hold his birthday party outside the Polar Tang, he has no choice but to attend the party!" you explained.

Ikkaku piqued up as well. "But he can also just 'ROOM' himself back to the ship, no?" she argued.

The crew started muttering amongst themselves. "That's true," you thought. "How are we going to make the captain stay if he's just going to teleport back?"

Bepo slowly raised his paw and spoke up. "What if we used sea prism cuffs on the captain?" he asked.

The room suddenly fell silent. Shuffles can be heard as the entire crew turns around to face Bepo. The poor mink would've turned red from embarrassment if he had any skin. He muttered out a soft sorry and lowered his head.

However, you thought it wasn't a bad idea, and Ikkaku seemed to agree. "Wait! Bepo is right," she called out, breaking the silence. "Let's find one and cuff our captain so he doesn't escape."

The crew broke out into conversation again and seemed like the people were divided regarding the proposed solution. 

"That seems like a reasonable idea."

"Cuffing our own captain?! That sounds crazy!"

"How else are we going to prevent him from using his powers?"

"He's going to throw us out of the crew!"

You stepped up on a nearby table. "Everyone quiet!" you shouted. The room fell silent once again, and everyone turned to face you in the centre of the dining room. "I know that it may seem like a ridiculous idea to cuff our beloved captain on his birthday. But I believe this to be for his own good! Let's celebrate our captain tonight!" you said with enthusiasm. 

Penguin suddenly stepped up on a chair, "Yeah, let's party tonight for the captain!" he cheered.

"For the captain!" everyone cheered.

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It was now 3 pm and it was sweltering hot on the island. You and the crew arrived two hours prior and proceeded to carry on with the errands that Law ordered. Shachi, who was assisting you, left to find Penguin. You just finished buying some mochi powder for the captain's cake. He may hate cakes, but you weren't going to pass up on an opportunity to bake him a cake for his special day so you opted for a mochi substitute, hoping he would like it. With a sack full of food ingredients over your shoulder, you proceeded to make your way back to the Polar Tang. However, a small shop to your right caught your eye. The sign on top of its door read "Books and Toys".

You hummed in curiosity. "They might have some copies of Sora here. I know the captain is looking for the first edition copy of volume one. If it's here it would be the perfect birthday gift!" you thought. You and Law were reading Sora, Warrior of the Sea together (as punishment). But you found yourself liking the time you spend with Law, and you swear he used it as an excuse to hang out with you (he would rather die than admit that). 

The bell on top of the door rang as you pushed it open. A teenage boy with tanned skin and blond hair greeted you on the counter. "Hello! How can I help you?" he asked. 

You quickly walked up to the counter. "I'm looking for a limited edition of Sora, Warrior of the Sea volume one. Do you have one in stock?" you inquired. 

The boy quickly looked around, making sure no one else was in the store. Then he leaned in to whisper; "I got one in stock. You really want it?"

Your eyes started to gleam in excitement and you nodded at the boy. "Yes, please! How much are you selling it for?"

He leaned back and crossed his arms with a smirk. He eyed you up and down. "For a pirate like you? Two thousand berries," he said.

"Shit," you thought "I forgot to take off this stupid boiler suit before I stepped foot out here."

"Well, since now you know I'm a pirate I can easily rob your store hm? Unless you want to lower that price for me, yeah?' you teased. Your left hand lightly hovered over your pistol, signalling to the boy that you were not bluffing. But you were, the captain would be very mad if he found out you robbed a toy and book store out of all places. 

The teenager started back up. "H-hey now, I was just kidding! I'll sell it to you for 500 berries! How does that sound? Just please don't kill me!" he stuttered in fear.

You put your hands on your hips and pretended to think. "Hmmm, alright kid. It's a deal! And make sure it has one of those plastic sleeves, I want it in mint condition!" you said.

The poor boy whimpered as he bowed and rushed to the back to fulfill your request. In two minutes he came back out with the book, wrapped in a box.

"H-here you go, ma'am! It-it was nice doing business with you!" he fearfully said while handing the box to you.

You cheekily grinned at the boy and handed him 500 berries in a bag. "Thank you! Have a good day!" You proceeded to walk out of the store with the sack of food and the box in your hand.

Satisfied, you broke out in a grin and made your way back to the Polar Tang. As you were walking, Bepo suddenly rushed up in front of you.

"(Y/n)-san! (Y/n)-san over here!" He called out to you. The bear halted to a stop to catch his breath.

"What's the hurry Bepo?" you asked as the mink in front of you was catching his breath.

"Captain is back!" he exclaimed. "He's coming into the town and we need to distract him!"

Sweat started to form on your forehead. "Okay, this is what we do! I have to head to the Tang to make the captain's birthday cake! Find Penguin and Shachi and lure him into this store called 'Books and Toys.' Try to keep him there for at least an hour."

Bepo rapidly whipped his big head around to make sure that no one was listening. Then he lowered his head to your level. "But (Y/n)-san, he's looking for you! I overheard him say to Jean Bart that he was going to discuss something with you urgently!" he whispered. 

You groaned in frustration. "That can wait! Distract him as long as you can! We cannot let this surprise be ruined!" you hissed.

The bear looked up and saw that Jean Bart was entering the town. That meant that Law was there too. "(Y/n)-san! You need to leave now! Captain is already here!" he exclaimed.

You quickly gathered the stuff that you were holding and wasted no time. You ran into the alleyway on your right and swerved around as fast as you could to head back to the submarine. 

A few minutes later, Jean Bart and Law saw Bepo in the nearby distance and walked up to him. 

"Bepo-ya, where is (Y/n)-ya? I need to talk to her," he questioned the mink.

The bear started to fidget. "Captain! Good to see that you're back! I haven't seen her in a while." he said nervously.

The doctor squinted in suspicion. "Alright, I will head back to the Polar Tang then." he declared.

"NO! I mean no captain! The Tang is off-limits for now! The- uh- shipwrights are fixing something in there- yeah! They're fixing the boiler room because Shachi and Penguin couldn't fix it entirely!" Bepo lied. He attempted to put his paw out as a way to prevent Law from passing by him.

"Bepo-ya, you should not block your captain." the tattooed doctor said darkly.

The poor bear started to shake in nervousness. "I'm sorry I can't-"

"CAPTAIN!" Penguin suddenly called out behind Jean Bart and Law. "Captain wait for us!"

"Yeah, captain! We have something to show you" Shachi hollered. 

The two crew-mates ran in between Law and Bepo. The mink's face relaxed in relief. The captain looked at the two men and started pestering them with the same questions. "Do you know where (Y/n)-ya is?" he asked. 

The orange-haired man shrugged. "I have no clue, I haven't seen her all day. But we found a comic book store!" Shachi proclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah!" Penguin agreed. "Let's head there right now!"

Law raised his eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, it doesn't seem a bad idea to visit there after I talk with (Y/n)-ya," he said.

Penguin shook his head. "You better visit now captain. The stores close by 6 pm and after that, only bars and pubs are open," he suggested. 

"I agree with Shachi and Penguin captain. You work so hard for the crew that it won't hurt to visit a comic book store here." Jean Bart added on. 

Law sighed. He had a feeling that you were avoiding him, and it seemed like the crew was helping you avoid him. You were probably up to no good again and he was honestly tired of it.

"Alright fine, let's visit this comic store." he finally agreed. 

Jean Bart, Penguin and Shachi started grinning and quickly ushered their captain to the comic book store. While Law had a neutral face, he couldn't help but wonder what you were up to.

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It was now 6 pm and you finished the mochi cake. You carefully placed the cake inside of the box and closed it. Sighing deeply, you wiped your sweat off your brow with your forearm. Shachi told you that the crew found a local bar where they could celebrate. You knew that by now most of the crew was there finishing preparations. 

Gathering the cake and gift for Law, you set out to head back to the town. You opened up the Polar Tang’s exit only to find your captain standing right in front of you. You yelped in surprise and quickly hid the two items behind your back. 

“Captain! What a surprise! What are you doing here!” you said, trying not to sound suspicious. 

Law warily looked down at you. “What am I doing here? This is my submarine if I remember correctly,”  he said. 

You let out a nervous laugh. “Of course of course! But what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Shachi and Penguin?” you nervously asked. 

The doctor raised his eyebrow. “I have been looking for you since this afternoon. Also, how did you know I was with those two?” he inquired. He stepped towards you and you took a step back. 

You started to sweat bullets out of nervousness. Looking to the side and pouting your lips, you let out a loose-lipped lie, “Oh you know, you always hang out with them so I guessed that you were with them.”

“Is that so? Well (Y/n)-ya, it’s really obvious that you’re lying, you have a terrible poker face,” he said smirking. 

“Shit, he got me,” you thought. 

“Why have you been avoiding me all day, (Y/n)-ya? What are you hiding this time,” he asked. He lowered his face near yours and looked into your eyes. You started turning red from the contact and started fidgeting with the items in your hand. 

“I wasn’t avoiding you… it was just we were both busy that’s all!” you nervously explained. You refused to meet with Law's eyes in an attempt to hide the secret if there was any left. 

The tattooed doctor peaked over your left shoulder. “What are you holding there on your back?” he curiously inquired. 

You attempted to step away from your captain but he halted you by grabbing your right arm. Trying to break free from his grasp, Law only tightened his grip on you. He attempted to get a full view of what you were holding behind your back, but you stepped to your right to prevent him from doing so. 

“Captain, I’m afraid that I cannot let you see what I’m holding,” you affirmed. 

“Nonsense, as your captain I command you to show me.” Law shot back at you. 

“That’s an abuse of power.” you retorted. 

“We’re pirates (Y/n)-ya. Normal laws don’t apply in pirate life. You’re lucky you have me as your captain.” he argued. 

The struggle to be free from his grasp continued. Then you suddenly remembered that you managed to get ahold of some sea prism cuffs thanks to Ikkaku. They were just sitting in your left back pocket. 

You patted your left back pocket and attempted to fish out the cuffs. You successfully pulled it out with your right hand, all while you were holding the gift in the same hand. 

The doctor started to get agitated. With his right hand occupied with holding your forearm, he attempted to use his left hand to snag whatever you were holding with your right hand. However, instead of grabbing the item, his hand was automatically shackled and he felt his energy drain rapidly. 

“What- What did you just put on my wrist!?” he exclaimed in surprise.

You grinned as you pulled up his hand that was now bound to the cuff you were holding onto. Law’s face colour drained as he saw that he was cuffed with sea prism stone. 

“(Y/n)-ya! What’s the meaning of this?!” he angrily yelled at you. 

You giggled. “Sorry captain, you are my hostage tonight,” you teased. 

The two of you suddenly went silent, processing what you just said. The captain turned completely red for the first time, realizing what it meant. You also turned red once you realized the suggestive nature of what you just said. 

“N-not like that! I mean like not that I wouldn’t mind that but this is for a surprise! From the crew! Yes, the crew and I have a surprise for you!” you tried to explain. 

The captain’s eyes narrowed at you. “Not that you wouldn’t mind?” he repeated. 

Your eyes widened and your face turned even more red. Then you proceeded to stomp your feet in frustration. 

“Argh! Never-mind! You are coming with me right now and you have no choice because your powers are neutralized.” you spat. 

“Now wait a minute, where are you taking me?” Law questioned as you pulled him out of the Polar Tang and off the submarine. You ignored his question and continued to direct him into the town. 

Five minutes later, the two of you arrived at the bar. Glancing back at the captain, you saw that he warily looked at the sign above the door. 

“You dragged me into a bar (Y/n)-ya? You could’ve done this without the sea prism cuffs.” he sighed. 

“No, I don’t think so. You would try to escape once you find out why,” you muttered. 

You pushed the door open and went inside with Law. The entire room suddenly burst out in a cheer. Law’s gaze softened to find out that the crew and you threw a surprise for him. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAPTAIN LAW!” The crew cheered. 

You excitedly let go of the cuff and placed the items on the nearby table. You opened up the box and took out the black and white mochi cake you created. It was shaped like Law’s fluffy cap, and the words on the bottom read the number ‘26’ with a candle on top of each number. Holding the cake, you walked up to the captain and presented it to him. He glanced down at you and although his face was still neutral, his eyes were expressing gratitude and another emotion that you couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Happy 26th birthday Captain Law. Thank you for being our captain, and for accepting me into the crew” you said, beaming up a smile. 

Penguin and Shachi suddenly popped up beside their captain and wrapped their arm around his shoulders. “Let’s celebrate!” Penguin shouted with glee.

“Let’s drink and make a toast to our awesome captain!” Shachi agreed. 

The whole room burst out in laughter and cheers and Law, seeing how much effort he was put into celebrating him, couldn’t help but smile. 

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The party went on late in the evening. Everyone was starting to pass out either because they drank too much or from partying too much. Penguin and Hakugan were trying to out-drink each other, while Bepo tended to a sleeping and drunk Ikkaku. On the other side of the room, Shachi was trying to hit up the hostess of the bar, while Jean Bart was talking with the bar owner. 

The captain of the Heart Pirates looked around and decided he was going to head outside for fresh air. He discreetly walked out of the bar and leaned up against the wall of the establishment. Taking a deep breath, he looked up to the clear skies of the night and pondered on the day’s events. He heard the entrance to the bar open and turned to see you walking out with a package in your hand. 

“Hey captain, fancy seeing you out here.” you greeted him. 

Law nodded at you. Over the past two weeks, he has gotten closer to you, from reading Sora with him to your ridiculous behaviour on his submarine. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you. Of course, there was no way he would admit it since having biases amongst his crew would create rifts but alas he couldn’t help but notice how you reminded him so much of his father figure in the past. 

You placed yourself in front of your captain and sighed. “I just wanted to apologize to you captain. I didn’t mean to hide from you the whole day and to take you hostage.” you apologized, laughing at the same time. 

The man in front of you chuckled. “I can only accept this behaviour from you (Y/n)-ya. At this point, I think I’ve grown immune from it.”

The two of you broke out into a small laugh. It was the only thing that could be heard in the small town, along with the crickets that were chirping into the night. 

You fiddled with the package’s string nervously, then presented it to Law. “I wanted to give you this for your birthday captain. I wanted to give it to you tomorrow on your actual birthday, but I think now’s the best time to give it to you.” you shyly said. 

The tattooed doctor’s eyes slightly widened in surprise. “You already made a cake for me, which was by the way, really delicious. You have another gift for me?” he asked. 

You pouted and shoved the package into his tattooed hands. “Just accept it damn it. I went through some trouble trying to get this for you,” you muttered. 

Law chuckled and started to unwrap the gift. He found himself holding onto a limited edition first copy of Sora, Warrior of the Sea volume 1. He caressed the front cover and looked at you with surprise in his eyes. 

“Y-you…?” he couldn’t find the words to speak. 

“Yeah, I managed to find one this afternoon while I was running errands. I know you have been looking for this for a while, I hope you like it.” you quietly said. You were scratching your cheek in slight embarrassment. 

However when you finally met his eyes, your cheeks flushed into a light pink colour. He was genuinely smiling at you, and his eyes gleamed with appreciation. The bright moon shone on both of you as you and Law shared the touching moment. 

“Thank you (Y/n)-ya, this was very thoughtful of you,” he said with sincerity. “I also have something for you too.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “But it’s not my birthday,” you argued. 

The captain pushed himself off the wall and dug into his back right pocket, fishing out a small white item. You looked closer and saw it was a kitchen timer shaped like a white polar bear. 

You gasped and Law glanced up and held out the gift. “I found this a while ago while walking around the town. I lied to all of you when I said that I was looking for Poneglyphs because my true intention was to find you a gift,” he admitted. 

Taking your left hand with his tattooed ones,   he looked down and gently placed the kitchen timer on your hand. “I saw this… and it reminded me of you. I just wanted to thank you for being the cook on my ship and for tolerating my ridiculous food requests. And you even made a mochi cake for my birthday, knowing that I hated regular cake. Just know that the crew-“ he suddenly paused and looked up at your eyes. “I really appreciate you (Y/n)-ya.”

His cheeks tinged a light very faint pink once he finished with his confession. Your mouth gaped open as you stared at the gift in your hand. The pulse in your heart started to quickly pace as your eyes started to well up with tears. Overjoyed by your captain’s words, you suddenly threw yourself at him, wrapping him in a hug against his chest. 

Law was stunned. He didn’t expect you to react the way you did. He looked down at you and felt his ears starting to heat up. Hesitantly, he patted your back with his left hand. 

“Captain, this was the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me! Thank you so much!” you cried out. 

The doctor let out a nervous chuckle. “Not at all, I was just showing appreciation for a valued crew member such as yourself,” he said, trying to convince himself. What he really felt was the appreciation of you as a person. 

With your arms wrapped around the man, you glanced up gave him a big grin and pierced his heart with your next sentence:

“I really appreciate you, for everything that you are. Happy Birthday, Captain Law.” 

Trafalgar Law, one of the notorious Seven Warlords of the Sea, was completely taken aback. Both of his ears were suddenly cherry red and he struggled to speak. His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. 

Suddenly, he remembered his father figure‘s last words to him. “I love you Law!” 

The once isolated and lonely heart that beat in Law’s chest suddenly swelled. Dropping the last of his stoic facade, he bore his eyes into yours with softness and affection. He put his hand on top of your head and gently patted it. 

Corazón was the first to notice the pain in his heart, but you were the one who was slowly opening it up again. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was enough for him to know that he could start to trust you with his once-damaged heart. 

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Bonus Scene:

“Shhh! They’re talking right now!” Hakugan hissed as he peeked through the window. You and Law were talking outside, and the entire crew was crammed into the tiny window of the bar. 

Ikkaku pushed Hakugan’s head down in an attempt to get a better view. She gasped when she saw that you suddenly hugged the captain. “Oh my god!” she squealed. 

Seeing that you were hugging the captain, the rest of the crew broke out into wolf whistles and small cheers. Penguin groaned as Shachi said something along the lines of “cough up that 100 berries.” 

It was a joyous night for the Heart Pirates. Pirates filled the bar with rowdy laughter. The night sky was clear and two growing hearts were sitting side by side with one another. It was one more celebration before they headed into the New World to further pursue their dreams and adventures.

[elvenbeard]

OC INTERVIEW - VINCENT EZAKI

(I was tagged by @cybersteal and @arcandoria for this a long while ago, and got real carried away with this idea xD also inspired by everyone else who took the "interview" bit a bit more literally, so yes! :D thank y'all for the great ideas and being an inspiring af fandom!)

Juanita Tseng: V, thank you so much for taking the time today, so happy to have you here! Let me ask, is that your full name?

V: Hah. Well, obviously not, but it’s served me well for many years now.

J: Any special story behind it?

J: What’s not a secret is that most of our viewers only know you as “mystery man” so far, at least that’s how the scream sheets often choose to refer to you. How do you feel about that?

V: Well, nothing I could say against either. I like my privacy and I’m a man, so they got that right at least.

J: Hahaha, that’s fair! Even more so I’m glad we’re getting the opportunity to get to know you a bit better today. As I told you in advance, there’s some burning questions our viewers have, and everyone’s been eagerly submitting them already as we speak. So, without further ado, let’s get to the first one. When is your birthday?

V: It’s in June, but I’d like to leave it at that.

J: Interesting! Gemini or Cancer?

V: Whichever is the one that comes first.

J: That’s fair! Alright, how tall are you?

J: Who is taller?

V: Me of course.

J: Of course! Okay, next question… Ah! Let’s stay on the topic of Kerry for a moment longer. From my last interview with him we know you two met through a mutual friend.

V: That’s right.

J: How did it go? Was it love at first sight, or more of a slow burn?

V: Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to him when we first met. But it wasn’t love at first sight, no, more… curiosity. We crossed paths a few more times, also thanks to that friend, and got to know each other better like that. We just clicked. That’s all there is to it really.

J: Awwww, that's so sweet! Now, it’s no secret that Kerry has led a quite adventurous life and there is a bit of an age gap separating you. So, I gotta ask:

J: Only men?

V: Yup. And now the next question please, cause none of it matters.

J: Hahaha, sorry, I know I’m such a tease! But we gotta ask our viewer’s questions! Speaking of which, one of them is curious about your upbringing and cultural heritage!

V: Now that’s a 180° turn. Born and raised in and by Night City. Can’t say much about cultural heritage, as it’s a bit of a mix of many things.

V: Mh-hm.

J: Let me see… would you be up for some quick shotgun-style questions?

V: Ready when you are.

J: Favourite season?

V: Anything that doesn’t involve sandstorms.

J: Favourite flower?

V: Lotus.

J: Favourite Scent?

V: Clean bedsheets.

J: Average hours of sleep?

V: I aim to get at least 7.

J: Numer of Blankets you sleep with?

V: One or none.

J: Favourite Fictional Character?

V: Oh no, uuuhh… Hmm… No, I can’t just choose one.

J: Haha, that’s alright. Would you say you’re a bit of a nerd?

V: Oh yeah, unashamedly. Me getting started about my favorite fictional characters would be a whole interview on its own.

J: Anyway, that’s right on cue, we’re almost out of time for today! I think we could fit one… no, two more questions!

V: Alright, let’s hear ‘em.

J: What would be your dream trip?

V: Hmmm… Kerry asked me to come along for his tour next year. I imagine that could be fun.

J: Oh, definitely! By the way, dear fans, don’t miss out on buying your tickets!

V: Maybe.

J: It’s been really nice to have you here today, V!

V: Thanks again for the invite.

J: As you know, I like to end my show with a random fact, something fun I’ve heard about in the past week or something about myself! Would you like to share a random fact with the viewers today?

V: I try.

J: Haha, well, I'm glad you found your way to my little studio, too! As I said, would love to have you over again anytime!

########## a few minutes later ##########

##############################

Thank you again for the tags! This was so much fun and really turned into its own thing beyond an OC ask meme XD I did this meme before with some slightly different and/or more in-depth answers for anyone curious [here] cause like stated back then, how Vince replies to personal questions always strongly depends on who's asking. And he might be more or less truthful about the information given or keep it all very surface-level instead, too.

For this lil story here the idea was obviously that the whole interview is basically just a promo thing for Kerry's upcoming tour xD So of course Vince is gonna support his bf if it helps boost ticket sales XDD A year earlier he might not have done it even then, because he was veeery reluctant about having their relationship be known beyond telling their closest friends. But here at this point some time in mid-to-late 2078, he'd feel secure enough with his life, their ilfe really, that he wouldn't mind being seen in the public together like this and also "outing" himself like that in front of a larger audience, for lack of a better word. It's the character growth and support of each other and a love language and everything \o/

Also: not sure who to tag at this point cause I think most of you already did this, but if you're reading this and havent answered all of Juanita's questions for your OC yet, consider yourself tagged!

[sibillascribbles08]

Alright, here's some very sad dad, aka Mr. Song, aka Jase's dad. We're going back to the thing that happened before Jase stopped seeing him for like two years.

And going to give the Content Warning: This work contains some homophobic language and a whole bunch of internalized homophobia. No self harm, but there is something that's misread as self harm. Also some adult/suggestive language near the bottom (these men are sluts what can I tell you) but nothing explicit.

Anyway the first chunk is crunchier than a walnut shell so I'm just gonna go ahead and slap on that read more. Have fun??? Idk

“Birthday was going fine until you called.” 

Jae-Won didn’t know why that sentence drove such a hammer through his chest. It wasn’t the first time Jase spoke to him with such disdain. It wasn’t the first time their phone calls turned sour. 

But it became so frequent now. And this was after Jase said he was too busy to come visit for the week and Jae-Won allowed it because he didn’t want his son thinking he’d try to force him to do anything. 

He just wanted to check in, wish him a Happy Birthday, maybe talk about future plans if the kid was up for it. Why did it have to go this way? 

But he refused to break over the phone. “O-oh? Sorry.” He gave a faint laugh and began to pace around his bedroom. “I guess you’re busy right now, huh?” His fingers looped around his beaded necklace. “I can let you get back to it and check in later.” 

“Why bother?”

His steps halted, the heels of his sandals digging into the carpet. “What?”

Jason raised his voice. “I said why bother? Why do you keep doing this?”

Panic gripped Jae-Won’s throat. “Jase—” 

“Why don’t you just take all your shit and get out of my life already?” 

His hand let go of his necklace. The other one almost dropped the phone. It hung loose in his grip as his limbs went numb. 

What could he even say to that? No? I’m sorry? What would he even be apologizing for, being himself? 

Sorry that I’m like this? Sorry your father’s too queer to ever be normal? Sorry I’m a raging embarrassment to you and the rest of my family? 

Tears burned in his eyes and he clenched his fist to hold them back. No, saying all of that wouldn’t matter. Because he couldn’t change who he was, not now. He needed to think about Jase. The kid was almost an adult, and if he decided he didn’t want to see his father anymore, there was nothing Jae-Won could do to stop that. 

The kinder thing to do would be to let him go while Jase was asking for it. 

“Okay.” He finally forced the words out and cleared his throat to keep his voice from wavering. It barely worked. “If… that’s what you want, then okay. Just… if you ever need anything, you can always reach out to me, okay kiddo?” 

“Yeah,” Jase mumbled. And the silence hung in the air like a guillotine. “Whatever.” 

And that single, uncaring word was all it took for Jae-Won’s heart to shatter on the floor. 

Not that he let it show, but he certainly couldn’t breathe a word. And after another agonizing pause, the line finally cut off. 

Jae-Won lowered his phone to stare at his screen. The words flashing to say the call had been disconnected, right below a picture of his son with the first gundam figure he put together. 

He couldn’t really feel anything. The silence in his room droned on for so long he could hear the faint ringing in his ears. Tears stayed in his eyes but they didn’t fall. 

His phone remained idle for so long, the screen finally went black. 

Jae-Won stared at his reflection. At the eye-liner and eyeshadow on his face, the glitter, the stickers, the pins in his hair that he pushed back, the necklaces around his neck that just barely touched the hem of the sequin top he had on. 

Why was he wearing this? Why was he like this? 

His son never wanted to see him again because of all this garbage. His son hated him. It didn’t matter how much Jae-Won loved him. 

Why did he ever fall into all of this? He could still remember Jason’s delighted shouts when his father would come home from work. The loud demands to “show him more robots” on TV. His rapid tapping on the table as he waited for his father to bring over the tea that they always drank before bed. 

The divorce marred all of that in an instant, and Jae-Won knew he couldn’t just blame his ex for that. He made his own choices. He chose to lean into it. And he didn’t know how to keep his son from shutting him out more and more as the years passed. 

He kept staring at his reflection. He clutched his phone tighter, watching it shake in his grip. 

“You think you’re fit to raise a son if you’re going to go around sleeping with any man you find?” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Song, but this court rules in favor of—”

“You either take this deal, or we’re going to present even more evidence to the court that could easily keep you away from your son for good.” 

“Jae, if you show up wearing something like that to pick up our son again, I’m taking this back to the judge.” 

“You’re so damn disgusting.” 

“How could you turn out like this? Didn’t we raise you better?”

“Do you invite all those men and women over to your house? You better keep them out when Jase is there.” 

“Do you hear me? Watch it. We wouldn’t want Jase turning into a degenerate like you.” 

Jae-Won tossed his phone onto the floor as hard as he could manage. 

He didn’t linger to see if it broke or not. He rushed straight into the bathroom. The second he saw his reflection he gritted his teeth. He had half a mind to just punch the mirror in, but that wouldn’t fix the problem staring back at him. 

The problem was simple. He was too much of a fucking freak to be a father. He refused to believe that for so long, but now even his own son didn’t want to look at him anymore. 

Jae-Won grabbed both necklaces in one hand and snapped them off. His neck stung. The beads clattered onto the tile floor. 

He ripped his top off as well and chucked it to the side before turning on the sink. With a handful of water he splashed it on his face and rubbed as hard as he could. He felt the glitter and the stickers scraping against his skin. His cheeks hurt. But he didn’t let up. He glanced back up at the mirror to find he’d barely gotten the damn shit off, just smeared it around. Fucking sealer. 

Oh look at you. An internal demon that hadn’t haunted him in years suddenly whispered in the back of his mind. Who do you think you’re fooling, looking like that, you fucking freak.

These days he’d always snap back that yes, he was a fucking freak, but now that thought had his legs shaking so bad he collapsed on the bathroom floor. 

Why get so dolled up? It continued. To make you forget what a massive failure you are at being anything society expected out of you? You failed to get the job you dreamed of. Failed to keep your wife. And now you’re a failure of a father to boot. 

“Shut-up.” He tried to hiss past the pressure on his throat. He gripped the side of the sink and pulled himself up, only to be forced to look at his reflection once more. 

Face it. The inner demon’s voice shifted into his own, and he found himself mumbling along with it. “Jase always hated us, he just only now found the courage to say it.” 

That’s the truth, wasn’t it. All those years of week-long visits and Jase wanted nothing more than to get away from him, but didn’t feel bold enough to say it. 

Because Jae-Won Song was a disgusting, slutty degenerate. 

He glanced back up at his smeared make-up, and now his fist did connect with the mirror. The glass splintered, but didn’t break off. His knuckles hurt, but it wasn’t enough. 

Jae-Won jerked the cabinet doors open. He snatched every piece of make-up he could see and hurled it at the wall. Pallets of eyeshadow exploded against the tile wall of his shower into plumes of colored dust. Nail polish shattered and splattered onto the tub. Foundation, eyeliner, mascara, blush, all the stupid little brushes and sponges and his single tube of lipstick. 

He took a second to gasp for air, blinking through the tears. He stared at the mess of paint, powder and broken glass and plastic. Not enough. It wasn’t enough. 

He snatched his trimming scissors out next, ready to try and turn the metal into nothing but a ball of scrap from stomping on it hundreds of times.

“Jae?” 

The panicked shout had him looking back. He stared at Manny—one of his partners—who stared back, more frightened than he had been during any of their horror movie nights. 

Manny’s gaze darted to the scissors, then he rushed into the bathroom. 

Jae-Won leapt away from the motion, but he had nowhere to go. Manny grabbed him in a sort-of hug, pinning Jae’s arms to his sides, and held him close. Jae-Won struggled, panic and adrenaline still surging through his system. Only more so when he fully registered who was holding him. 

Disgusting. Disgusting. He was so disgusting. 

He didn’t realize he was screaming until Manny had to shout over him to be heard. “Jae. Calm down. Calm down for me, okay? Drop the scissors.” 

Jae-Won kept thrashing, kept trying to rip free. No. No. He wasn’t done. He had to get rid of the rest of it. Break it, burn it, so he could never touch it again. Shred it until he had no choice but to be someone normal and respectable and worthy to take care of the thing he loved the most. 

Manny started to drag him backwards into the hall. Boots pounded on the nearby staircase, then Angie’s voice came in. “Manny, what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Manny told her. “Text the group to get on standby and call the restaurant. Then get some water.” 

Jae-Won thrashed again.

Manny tightened his grip. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Darling.” 

The pet name just made him angrier, even if it shouldn’t, because he started that entire trend. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Alright, done and done. Now let’s take a deep breath and drop the scissors, okay?” 

Jae-Won tried even harder to rip himself free. “Let me go!”

“Not until you drop the scissors. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself.” 

What? Is that what Manny thought he was doing? He didn’t have the space in his brain to figure out how he came to that conclusion. But fine. Fine! If Jae-Won couldn’t turn them into sheet metal he’d just do it later. 

With how little he could move his arms, he could barely throw the trimmers more than a few feet toward the bathroom door. 

Manny immediately relaxed and loosened his grip, but he didn’t let go. “Alright, good, now let’s take a deep breath—”

“Let go of me.”

“Jae, come on.”

“I said let go!”

“Okay, okay.” Manny’s grip finally vanished.

Jae-Won scrambled to his feet. In the process he stumbled into the wall. He could barely see at this point. Between the tears and his contacts everything shifted into blurs of color. He tried to step away from Manny for… some reason. His brain just screamed at him to get away. Get away from the temptation. 

More boots on the stairs just kicked his panic into overdrive. He tried to dart into his bedroom, but his head slammed into the corner of the door. 

“Shit, Jae.” Manny touched his shoulder. “Let’s at least just sit down.”

“No.” Jae-Won tried to shove him off, but then another pair of hands grabbed his arms. Angie, no doubt. “Let go. Leave me alone.”

“Like hell we’re doing that when you’re acting like this.” Angie spat. “What the hell is going on, babe?” 

“I said leave me alone!” He screamed so loud it tore at his throat.

“No!” Manny shouted back. “We love you too damn much for that.” 

Something about that sentence snapped his anger away. All of it vanished at once, leaving him with nothing but anguish. 

His legs gave out, and the only reason he didn’t hit the floor is because both of his partners held fast. They each slid an arm under his shoulders and gently guided him down to the bedroom carpet. 

Jae-Won couldn’t manage to say anything, not that any coherent words even formed in his brain. All he could do was sob, curling up so his face pressed against the floor. It hurt. It hurt. He wished he could just reach into his chest and rip out his heart and let himself bleed out on the floor. 

Manny gently shushed him, rubbing a hand along his back. “It’s gonna be alright, Jae. We’re here, okay?” 

Jae-Won tried to cling to the words, but his brain immediately shoved them away again. Stop. Don’t give in. These people were part of the thing he needed to get rid of. 

But why was he even lying to himself? He couldn’t get rid of that, or them. 

The tears finally slowed down just enough for him to speak. “Why am I like this?” 

“What?” Angie held his hand. “Like what, babe?” 

“Why am I like this?” He forced himself up so he could put a hand on his chest. “Why did I have to be like this? Why couldn’t I just be normal?” 

He still couldn’t see clearly, but the horrified expressions that Manny and Angie exchanged were still obvious. 

“Jae?” Manny reached out and held his face, lightly brushing away tears. “Hey, listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but there is nothing wrong with you.” 

“Did your parents suddenly call you back?” Angie growled. “I told you to block their—”

“Angie, wait until we get the story.” 

Jae-Won shook his head and pushed Manny’s hands to the side. “If there was nothing wrong with me, then my son wouldn’t be so disgusted with me.” 

His partners fell silent. 

So he continued, even if he struggled to get the words out between sobs. “He told me to finally get out of his life. Just how long has he wanted me to do that? Just how long has he been stuck coming over to my house wishing he never had to see me again?” He tried to wipe his eyes, but the tears didn’t slow down. If anything they got worse. “All because I can’t help being anything but a filthy, disgusting, de—”

“Hey!” Manny’s voice boomed through the room. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.”

“It’s true!”

“It’s not.” Manny held his shoulders tight. “I’m sorry, Jae. I’m sorry that your son can’t see what a fucking gorgeous person you are. I know I’m not a parent. I know I can’t even begin to understand how you feel. But you cannot blame yourself for the choices he’s making.”

“Maybe not.” Jae-Won sputtered. “But I can blame myself for mine. If I hadn’t made that stupid choice right after the divorce. If I tried to just stay away from it maybe this rift never would have shown up.”

“You don’t know that.” Angie insisted. “You could have just made yourself so miserable trying to keep all of this under wraps that it would have just created a different kind of rift.”

“I could have tried.” 

“Well you didn’t.” Manny sighed. “You didn’t, and we’re here now. And even if you tried to rip that part of you away and bury it, would anything even change? Do you really think Jase would suddenly change how he feels about you?” 

No. Jae-Won didn’t, but he couldn’t say that out loud. Just the thought of it left him in another fit of sobs. He tried to curl up onto the floor again, only for Manny to pull him onto his lap instead. 

“Sorry,” Manny gently played with his hair. “That was probably a bit harsh. But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself for something you may not even be able to get back.” 

“Besides.” Angie held his hand again. “If he doesn’t love you for who you are, does he really love you at all?” 

Once again they were right, but Jae-Won turned away from the reality that stared him in the face. Not right now. He couldn’t bear to look at it right now. 

His son—the center of his universe, the first thing that made his life stop feeling aimless, a bundle small enough to rest in one arm while Jae-Won promised him the world a hundred times over—never wanted to see him again. 

Jae-Won just kept sobbing into his boyfriend’s leather pants until his thoughts stopped all together.

-------------------------

The first thing Jae-Won was aware of when he woke up was that his eyes burned. They felt dry. He could tell one of his contacts slid out of place. He rubbed them to get rid of the crust and tried to open them, only for that to hurt too much to manage. He then noted the mild headache, like he was dehydrated, and the fact he was in bed.

How did he get here?

Without opening his eyes he sat up and felt around. He still had on his denim shorts, still topless, and his hair was an absolute nightmare right now. 

He got to the edge of the bed and stood. Just how did he get here? What even happened? 

Then his memory came back, and he stopped walking towards the door.

Right. 

Jase was gone. 

His chest still hurt an unbelievable amount, but he didn’t cry. He probably just couldn’t at this point. 

He heard footsteps in the hallway outside and turned his head, even though that was pointless because he still couldn’t see. 

“Oh, you woke up.” Manny said before he came closer. “How are you feeling?” 

Jae-Won didn’t know how to answer that. He could practically hear the screams and wails that echoed from his heart to his ears. 

“Physically, I mean.” Manny added. 

That was a bit easier to answer. “My eyes burn. They feel dry.” And now his throat did too. He could hear the cracks in his voice. Did he really scream that much earlier? “Guide me to the bathroom?”

“Bathroom? Uh, yeah sure, the sink should be okay.” 

Jae-Won let his boyfriend take his hand and guide him around the walls and to the sink. He didn’t hesitate to run the water and wipe down his face and his eyes. When the dryness subsided enough for him to open his eyes, he took some time to remove his contacts. Getting the one that managed to slide to the side was a trial of frustration and pain, but eventually he managed it. He put them both back into their container and finally tried to look at himself in the mirror.

Hard to do with the cracks that ran along it, but his makeup was still smeared all over his face. He never took out the pins in his hair, and decided to do so now before messing it up even further so it would start laying flat again. 

The clink of glass made him look toward the shower and…

Oh.

Manny was carefully picking things out of the tub. A mess of broken glass and color that extended from the bottom all the way up the tiled wall. 

Jae-Won knew he did that, but his memory of it was so hazy now. Like something else took hold of his brain and piloted him around for a few minutes. 

“Y-you don’t have to pick that up.” Jae-Won coughed from the dryness in his throat. “I can—”

“Jae.” Manny stood and tossed whatever he was holding into the tiny trash can. “I’ve got it. It’s fine. But I should leave the rest for later. Where’s your makeup remover?”

“The vanity in my room.” Jae-Won went to go get it, but Manny moved ahead of him.

But they didn’t reach the bedroom. His boyfriend suddenly stopped walking.

“Right, almost forgot, Angie’s going to go out to get some food. Anything you want?” His soft smile then turned serious. “You are eating something.” 

Yeah, Jae-Won knew that tone. There’d be no sense in arguing. And truthfully, as hollow as he felt, he at least didn’t feel nauseous. “Comfort food, without a doubt.”

“Emalia’s tacos or Smokin’ Andy’s burgers?” 

Jae-Won almost cracked a smile at the nickname. “Tacos.”

“You got it.” Manny leaned over the stair rail. “Hey Angie!”

“Yes Babe?” Angie called from the kitchen. “Is he up?” 

“Sure is, wanna pick up our favorites from Emalia’s?” Manny dug a few twenties out of his pocket. 

“On it.”

“Here, take my cash.” Manny tossed it over the railing and down to the first floor.

Angie huffed. “Throwing money at me like I’m a stripper.” 

“You are a stripper.” 

“Only some nights.” 

Jae-Won could easily imagine her sticking out her tongue. Quite likely since Manny was doing the same. 

“Alright, I’ll be back.” Her boots headed toward the backdoor. “Take care of our darling while I’m gone.”

“You know it.” Manny shouted after her. “Drive safe.” With that he spun back around and gestured to the bedroom. 

Well, Jae-Won’s bedroom. The other bedroom, the guest room, the place where Jase always slept, had its door open still further along the top floor. From here he could see the pixel-like bedsheets, the handful of transformer stickers on the window, and on the desk sat— 

“Jae.”

His boyfriend’s voice was the only thing that kept the pressure in his chest from shattering it all over again. Jae-Won tore his gaze away from the room and stepped into his own. 

He aimed for the package of make-up remover wipes, but Manny snatched it up first.

Jae-Won frowned. “Manny, I can—”

“Sit.” Manny pointed to the chair and pulled one of the wipes out. 

“Manny—”

“Sit.” He repeated.

Jae-Won let out a frustrated sigh and did so, crossing his arms in the process. “I know I’m a disaster and I’m definitely having a crisis, but you don’t have to baby me.”

“I’m not babying you.” Manny gently held his chin and started cleaning his left cheek. “If I was babying you, I’d wrap you up in a blanket burrito and put you on the bed. Then I’d do this while singing some obnoxious lullaby.” 

Jae-Won refused to laugh at the joke. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He tossed the used wipe aside and got another one. This one ran over the eyebrows. “Or is this one of those times you meant to say ‘I don’t deserve your kindness.’” 

Jae-Won’s nails dug into his skin. Damn it. Manny knew him too well after all these years. 

“So I’ll just say what I always say. I don’t give a damn if you deserve it or not, you’re getting it. Because I love you.” 

That word made Jae-Won’s teeth clench. His skin tingled and itched, to the point he wanted to tear it off. 

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting.

Manny stopped cleaning and let go of him. “Hey, you alright?” 

“Sorry.” Jae-Won breathed in through his nose and out of his mouth. Just breathe, don’t spiral. 

“Don’t need an apology. I just need to know if you’re okay.” 

Jae-Won squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Of course I’m not, Manny. You’ll have to be more specific.” 

“Fine, is something I’m doing upsetting you?” 

Yes? No? “It’s not your fault.” 

Manny let out a frustrated sigh. He paced around the room a few times, hands on top of his head. Jae-Won just kept focusing on his breathing before his self loathing caused him to do something else he’d regret. 

“Alright, let’s try again.” Manny stepped back over and knelt down, placing a hand on Jae-Won’s knee. “Can you try to tell me what’s going on in your head?”

Where did he even begin with a topic like that? The question alone prompted a wall of thoughts that he couldn’t keep up with. 

“Right, be more specific. What were you thinking about when you tensed up like that?” 

He let out a pathetic whine and pressed his hands against his cheeks. He could still feel all the powder coating the right one. “I don’t… I don’t know how to explain that without upsetting you.” 

Manny rested his other hand on the same knee before putting his chin on top of them both. “You know what’s upsetting? Coming in here to find out why my boyfriend isn’t coming outside for date night to find him clutching a pair of scissors in a wrecked bathroom like he’s about to stab himself.” 

Jae-Won blinked, his hazy memory clearing up just a bit. “That wasn’t what I was doing.”

“No? It sure as hell looked that way.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself.” 

“I think you are, Jae, just not in a physical sense.” Manny squeezed his leg. "Trying to shred parts of yourself is hurting you." 

He let out a shaky breath. "I know, and I'm trying not to, but it…" 

Another squeeze. "What's going on in your head?" 

Jae-Won clenched his hands together to keep the emotions in his chest from reaching his throat. “Jase is disgusted with me. He probably always has been. I managed to get past the insults from my ex, her boyfriend, and most of my family, but him shutting me out of his life just makes me disgusted with myself all over again.” 

He tightened his grip on his fingers and then relaxed them again, watching the faint wrinkles on the back of his hand. “So every time you’re affectionate with me… my head doesn’t like that. It keeps trying to convince me I need to get away from it before I get any more filthy.” 

Manny let go of him and leaned back. “So, you’re more or less back in the rut you were in when we first met?”

Hah, such an odd memory. Ignoring the fact he’d been too plastered at the time to actually remember all of it. It always sat in his mind as something joyful and something painful at the same time. 

It’d been only a few days after the custody case came to a close. Jae-Won decided, fuck it, and found himself back at another local queer bar where he proceeded to drink way more than he should have. 

Manny had to fill in the blanks of his god awful flirting with Angie, which somehow devolved into gross sobbing and then completely passing out on the booth seat. 

A miracle the pair decided to do the kind thing and let him sleep it off at their apartment. It’d been frightening at first, waking up in a strange place with people he barely recognized, but as they chatted over breakfast, things started to click into place. 

They’d been his first friends in his new lifestyle, and somehow they stuck around ever since. Sometimes he’d crack jokes that the sex must be that good, but he knew Angie and Manny both saw him as more than just a long term friend-with-benefits. 

“Kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Jae-Won mumbled. “All those years of biting back fear and guilt so I could walk comfortably in heels and an open back dress and it’s undone with one conversation.” 

Manny tilted his head. “Jae, that kind of stuff is never really gone forever. Especially in the world we live in. Sure, New York City makes it easier for us to be ourselves, but it’s still part of a bigger world. We can fight systems, stick in groups, and decide every morning that we’re going to unapologetically be ourselves, but that doesn’t mean it’s not scary. I mean, was that incident with the guy whose ear you ripped off not a reminder of that?”

Jae-Won frowned and finally unclenched his hands. “I think I was too angry at the time to be frightened.” 

Manny laughed. “Yeah, I can believe that. Your temper is unbelievable for someone of your size.”

“I’m not that short.”

Manny stood, probably to emphasize a point, except it didn’t count because Jae-Won was sitting. “Short to me and Angie.” 

“You’re literally only seven inches taller.”

“In more than one place.” Manny wiggled his eyebrows.

Jae-Won glared and lightly kneed his boyfriend in the crotch. 

“Ow, hey, no.” Manny jumped back. “See what I mean? This is why even Angie avoids pissing you off.” 

Jae-Won slumped in his chair. “I think we’re getting off track.”

“Yeah, probably.” Manny snatched up a new wipe. “Pretty easy to do when it comes to us though, right?”

Jae-Won didn’t reply to that. He just sat still as his boyfriend continued cleaning his face off. 

“My point from earlier,” Manny said, “Is that all these negative feelings you have about being queer, have probably been sitting in the back of your mind for a long time. Especially if Jase has always been getting farther and farther away. It can’t be the first time in all these years you’ve thought about it again.”

No, it wasn’t. It happened almost every time Jase came to visit. Jae-Won would always clean up his house, making sure to stuff away any pictures, art, flags and all sorts. He’d shove away the dresses, the glitter, the t-shirts covered in dirty words, and the high heels into a storage box that he’d put in the back of his closet. Just be normal for a week, he’d tell himself, or Jase will either leave for good or be dragged away. For an entire week Jae-Won would be suffocating on the inside and in the end it’d been for nothing. It hadn’t even worked. 

Maybe Angie was right. Even if he’d kept himself away from all this, would it have really stopped the rift? 

“There, all clean.” Manny announced and tossed the last wipe in the bin. He leaned forward, likely aiming for a kiss on the cheek, but then stopped. “May I?” 

He almost never asked for permission, because by this point they’d known each other so long they knew all the signals. 

Jae-Won appreciated it, and ultimately decided on a yes. He let his boyfriend kiss his cheek before he turned his head and met his lips.

Manny sighed into the contact, like he’d just gotten his first sip of water after being lost in the desert. Jae-Won put a hand on the back of his boyfriend’s neck, sliding it up so his fingers got caught in the tight curls of Manny’s hair.

Another sigh. Manny leaned over him, and one of his knees rested on the chair next to Jae-Won’s thigh. 

“I said it before,” Manny murmured against his lips. “But I’ll say it again. You’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever met.” 

Jae-Won rolled his eyes. “We both know Smokin’ Andy is way hotter.” 

Manny laughed, the vibrations easy to feel as he pressed their noses together. “That’s not what I mean, even if you are pretty as fuck. I met you in a bar when you practically lost everything just because you dared to dip your toes into something you wanted. Most people would backtrack so fast from that, but you kept going, and you went hard.” 

Jae-Won felt his cheeks heating up. “It wasn’t that—” 

Manny pinched his cheeks. “This stuffy little nerd who stuttered and blushed the second anyone cute tried to talk to him. You know I used to be able to whisper the word ‘penis’ in your ear and you’d immediately go red.” 

Jae-Won rolled his eyes. “Maybe that’s because you were so embarrassing to be around.” 

“And now look at you. You throw open the doors to a room in whatever wild outfit you decide to rock that evening and command the attention of everyone there. You walk everywhere like you own the place. You see someone you want and you go after them, even if they turn you down.” 

Jae-Won wished he could sink into the chair. This was getting to be too much. 

“My point is” Manny gave him another kiss. “I watched you enter this world frightened out of your mind, but you refused to give up. And watching you wrestle down all of that fear piece by piece is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” 

Now he felt warm everywhere. Emotions twisted in his chest, because at this current point in time he just felt like a coward again. Letting his mind talk him into trying to throw all of this away. But now his boyfriend was in front of him—on top of him—whispering much kinder words in his ear, and that inner voice couldn’t manage to talk over it. 

Jae-Won grabbed the collar of Manny’s jacket as he pulled him back into the kiss and kept trying to tug him closer. Manny let out a short growl, his knee sliding further up the chair. 

“You know you taste like whatever cleanser is on those wipes.” Manny muttered between smooches. 

“Then stop kissing me.” 

“No.” Manny bit down on Jae-Won’s lip.

He gasped and twisted the leather jacket in his grip. “Going to play dirty, huh?” 

“Try and stop me.”

Jae-Won had half a mind to lift one of his legs and press it against his boyfriend’s dick, but just then the downstairs door opened.

“Boys, dinner’s here.” Angie called. “I better not come upstairs and find you two making out on the floor.” 

“You won’t.” Manny shouted back. “Jae’s in a chair.”

Angie let out a shriek, probably to mimic an offended gasp. “You two starting without me? Unbelievable.” 

Manny just kept chuckling and got off the chair. He took one of Jae-Won’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Do you want to change, by the way?” 

Jae-Won looked down at his denim shorts. Literally the only thing he had on right now. “Uh, might be a good idea.” 

“Unless you want me to lick taco sauce off your chest.”

Jae-Won snorted and playfully shoved his boyfriend to the side, hand on his face. “Jeez, you’re all over me tonight. Is watching me have a breakdown just that sexy?”

“Nah,” Manny answered in a serious tone. “Just trying to see if it gets you back to normal, even if it only lasts for so long.” 

Yeah. No doubt trying to sleep tonight he’d be plagued by negative thoughts all over again. No doubt his conversation with Jase would turn into an endless loop until the voices of the rest of his family joined in. 

So for now, he should at least try to focus on just his partners and eating some dinner. 

[genshin-no-simp]

Diluc x Reader - Birthday Boy (Smut)

Pairing: Diluc x You/Reader (Female)

Sexual conent below the cut

Warnings: semi-public sex, tummy bulge? fluff ending.

---------------

It took a weeks worth of preparation on your part to get everything in place, all for this one day. This one special day. But it was worth it.

After all, Diluc did deserve rest on his birthday.

You made sure there was nothing that needed doing, nothing that warranted Diluc to leave the comfort of the Manor. You were exhausted but you knew this was only a fraction of the work that Diluc did. It was your motivation to make sure everything was in order, of course with the help of Elzer and Adelinde.

And when the night before his birthday approached, you reassured him that he could take this chance to sleep in for once. Diluc wasn't against the idea but he wasn't sure if his body clock would allow him to sleep in. But little did he know, he was exhausted and only once he hit this pillows did he realize this.

When Diluc had finally woken, he groaned softly bringing his hand up as he ran his fingers through his unruly morning hair, that's when he noticed you weren't beside him. In an instant he shot out of bed, looking around. You never got out of bed before him. About to leave the bed himself his door opened and your figure came into view. You were still in your night dress. Diluc sighed in relief, then raised his eyebrow at the tray.

"What's this?" His voice low and husky since he had just woken up.

You weren't going to lie, his voice was enough to set a fire burning inside you. But today was about him. You smiled with a giggle.

"What does it look like? Breakfast of course. So sit back in bed." You came to his side of the bed.

From this close up Diluc could see properly just how little your night dress left to the imagination. Then he realized, you went to the kitchen like that, and he frowned, anyone could have seen you, which seemed to pissed him off.

"Don't worry I had the kitchen to myself, only Adelinde, Moco and Hillie are here at the moment." You knew what was running through his head. Diluc had a tendency to get overly possessive sometimes. But it's one of his faults that you fell in love with regardless.

Diluc looked away, half embarrassed and half ashamed that you knew without a doubt that he didn't want other people, especially men to see you like this. You gave another soft giggle setting the bed table down.

Diluc cleared his throat and looked at you, "what's the occasion?" He then lowered his gaze to the food and didn't know where to start, everything looked so enticing. He smiled at the eggs that you put a little extra effort in to make look like hearts.

You sat on the opposite side of him careful not to knock the glasses of grape juice over on the tray. You gave a little hum.

"Well what day is it?" You asked him instead. Diluc tilted his head, pulling the fork from his mouth. Once he was finished chewing he spoke.

"Friday." He stated matter of factly.

"Yes, but what date is it?" You cocked your head to the side, watching him. He totally forgot about his birthday didn't he? You thought to yourself.

"Um..." Diluc didn't know why but he felt pressured, as if you would give out to him, if he got this wrong.

Was it your birthday? No that's not till a few months.

Was it your anniversary? No that just passed.

At this point you were struggling to keep your laughter in.

"Luc, come on. It's your birthday." You rolled your eyes laughing.

Then it clicked, it suddenly made sense, from why you told him to sleep in, to breakfast in bed.

"That's it?" He asked, indifferently.

"What do you mean 'that's it's? You only get one birthday, and I'm going to make sure you get the most out of it." Diluc could hardly deny you, not with how passionate you were about it. But it's just another day, birthday or not.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but there's still work-"

"I do believe there is nothing for you to do today. Everything is already taken care of. It's you day." This time you were much more calmer as you smiled sweetly at him.

Now he definitely couldn't say no. He had a feeling you did a lot to get him this day of peace. Besides it's been so long since he's actually celebrated his birthday. Not that he cared to remember it considering what happened all those years ago...but maybe now is the time to move on from that, it's getting real tiring anyway.

Diluc smiled at you, yes from now on he will celebrate his birthday with you.

Diluc had to admit, it was nice, having all this free  time AND getting to spend it with you. The two of you spent most your time outside, walking through the vineyard and occasionally eating a grape or two, at one point you started playing hide and seek. Instead of finding it childish, Diluc found it oddly refreshing. Just being able to let loose for once.

Currently he was hiding, making sure to keep his eye out for you and staying on the move, it was cheating of course but it added to the fun, but you were an expert at hide and seek and knew all the tricks in the book. Just as he turned around, you seemingly popped out of nowhere.

"Found yooou~" you giggled tackling him into a hug.

Caught of by both your sudden appearance and the hug he fell backwards onto the ground.

"Thought you could escape me huh?" You nuzzled into his neck.

Diluc chuckled holding you close to his body.

"I thought I would've had a better chance than that." He admitted.

You sat up on his chest, while he propped himself up his elbows. The light from the sun creeped through the cracks of the vineyards many grape pergolas. It wasn't the most private of places but nobody would notice the two of you unless they looked.

Cupping Diluc's cheek, you leaned down to kiss him, which without hesitation he accepted. It was a delicate kiss, both of you could feel the love and affection that you held for each other. It was truly something.

When you went to pull away from the kiss, Diluc pulled you back for more, shifting his weight onto his left arm, his right arm snaked around your waist his hand pressing agaisnt the middle of your back, giving you no chance to move. Diluc wasn't done with you just yet.

Gripping his shoulders you pushed him back down onto his back, Diluc gave a mental sigh finally able to take the pressure off his left arm. Now he had both his around wrapped around you securely. He made you feel so safe, you never wanted to leave his arms but lucky for you, he wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

It wasn't long before his hands started to wander, touching and caressing your body. Soft gasps and pants escaped from you, Diluc used every opportunity to dive into your mouth. The intensity of the kiss was making you lightheaded, but in a good way. Your body burned and your heart was racing. You could tell Diluc was the same, you could feel his heart pounding against his chest right under your hand, not only that but at how brazenly he lifted your pale mint dress up to touch your bare skin. It made you shudder, Diluc had opted to be gloveless today, it was certainly a change in pace compared to his usual leather. Being able to feel his skin on yours right away was making you feel impatient.

Finally allowed to pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva followed. Diluc gazed at you with hooded eyes, his normally bright ruby eyes, dark and heavy with lust. You licked your lips, sitting up on him once again. One of the straps on your dress slipped down your shoulder. Diluc held back his growl and his urge to flip you over. You weren't even trying to seduce him and he was already under your spell.

Gripping your thighs he pushed you lower down until your clothed womanhood rubbed against the bulge in his pants. You failed to catch the moan before it fell from your lips. Diluc smirked, knowing you were just as excited as he was right now.

Diluc was planning on teasing you some more before you had decided to take back some control. Abruptly you grinded yourself against him, biting your lip. It was Diluc's turn to let out a surprised moan as his hips bucked up into yours.

"Ah~ Diluc." You fumbled for his belt buckle. If Diluc wasn't as impatient he would've chuckled and teased you. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the free time or maybe it was just you. But he wasn't complaining. Diluc hissed in relief, feeling his member finally free of its painful confinement.

You were going to lower yourself further but he grabbed your arm pulling you into a kiss.

"No time for that." He breathed heavily between kisses. Of course there was time he just wasn't interested in that right now, he just wanted you, in which case he used his Vision to burn the sides of your underwear and discard the rest.

Now with your underwear out the way, Diluc could feel how wet you really were. It was cute how excited you had gotten without any foreplay, perhaps the fact that you were technically out in the open played a part but regardless, he was happy that it was him who made you feel like this.

You moaned against the kiss feeling the tip of his member push against your awaiting hole. Breaking away from the kiss you pushed down against him, taking him all in at once.

"Fuck!" It was so strange hearing Diluc swear but it filled you with a strange sense of pride knowing you were able to break his nobility.

The stretch of taking him all at once burned but it felt good. It was certainly much greater compared to when he would prepare you first. But you weren't complaining at all. Tilting your head back with a moan you began to bounce up and down, your slick made it easy to slide up and down. You gripped the front of Diluc's shirt for support as he snapped his hips up into yours. A series of wanton moans escaped your lips, the harder and faster Diluc went.

Your head fell forward your eyes glossy and your pupils blown wide with pleasure. Now both your dress straps had slid down your shoulders, making Diluc lose his mind. He gripped your hips so tight, there wasn't a doubt that there would be fingerprints even through the dress. You choked on your moans as you swore you could feel Diluc in your stomach. He was reaching places you never thought possible, or your were so drunk on pleasure it just felt that way, but it didn't matter what was the truth, it was fantastic.

"Ngh, haA~ mm close..." you struggled to get the words out.

Diluc grunted thrusting upwards even faster, you had struggled to keep up before but now it was just impossible. It wasn't long before you came all over him. Diluc wasn't too far behind, feeling your release edged him into his, you felt his hot seed fill you up more than your already were, you threw your head back with a shameless moan of his name. You were certain everyone around and in the Manor had heard you. But Diluc didn't care, let them know who was and had made you feel good.

You panted heavily as your body shook from the after math of your orgasm. Diluc too was desperately gasping for air as he came down from his high. Letting a soft puff of air, you looked down at Diluc and grinned leaning in to kiss him. He chuckled kissing you back.

Getting off Diluc he fixed his pants as you picked up what was left of your underwear.

"Luc." You pouted, "you ruined my panties." You huffed and rubbed your legs together, you could feel some of his cum dripped down your thigh.

"My love, they were ruined before I even touched them." He winked with a cocky smirk.

Your face flushed a deep crimson as you looked away from him, Diluc smiled wrapping his arm around your waist tenderly.

"Come on, let's go take a bath." He smiled gently, ushering you back towards the Manor. You snuggled into his side contently.

During the short trip back inside, not one of the employees dared to look in your direction. Instead of it making you feel better you felt embarrassed. You weren't surprised that they heard you but they didn't have to make it so obvious.

"Luc, nobody would look at me." You sounded more mortified than you intended as you pulled your dress off, which only added to Diluc's amusement.

"Good, they shouldn't be looking at you in the first place." He stated stripping himself of his own clothes.

Upon returning to Diluc's private quarters, you were both pleasantly surprised by the already drawn bath, with scattered rose petals and scented candles. It seems Adelinde knew exactly what the two of you needed. You were the first to settle into the bath despite Diluc's confusion, usually he got in first so you could rest against him, it felt weird that he was resting against you.

"Are you sure I'm not too heavy against you?" It was the fourth time he asked now.

"Oh for Celestia's sake Luc, I'm not made out of glass, I'm fine. But you won't be if you keep asking." At least you gave him a warning which he took to heart, despite not having a Vision yourself, you were very capable of looking after yourself.

"Alright, alright." Diluc sunk a little lower into the tub, his head now resting between your boobs.

"Oh." He said softly, he hadn't expected this to be so comfortable. You giggled softly.

"Someone looks content." There was a lot of fondness in your voice that made Diluc's chest flutter. He let out a soft hum and closed his eyes when he felt your fingers massage some herbal shampoo into his scalp.

Diluc couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have someone like you. Someone so caring and aware of his needs. He didn't expect to meet someone like you, or anyone in general for that matter. He thought he was going to be alone, forever, and he was okay with that. Until he had met you, he didn't at the time realize just how important you would be to him, but he knows now and he's incredibly grateful towards you and towards himself, for letting him step out of his comfort zone and let someone in again.

Before he knew it, Diluc had fallen asleep, between the soothing heat of the water, your massaging and the sweet sound of your voice, they had all lulled him into sleep.

"Luc? You listening?" You asked softly, "Luuuc~" you cooed. Perplexed with his quietness, you tilted your head to the side to peer into his face, where you noticed he had fallen asleep. You grinned with a giggle.

You were so preoccupied with talking, you didn't notice the change in his breathing, as it steadied out. But now you didn't know what to do. You knew you couldn't stay in the bath but you didn't want to wake him either. But you also knew the water wouldn't go cold anytime soon thanks to Diluc, placing a kiss to his damp hair, you decided to let him sleep for a little while longer. After all he deserved it.

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [1] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Eventual smut, A/B/O dynamics, cheating, age gap, Negan

A/N: yay first fic! this will have four parts! i hope everyone enjoys. this is an au where the apocalypse never happened. 3.2k words

I squinted as I stepped out into the bright Virginian sun. People swarmed all around me, creating the steady hum of airport ambience that I had grown accustomed to over the years. I had just gotten off a four-hour flight home from college and all I wanted to do was shower and curl up in bed. But I couldn't. Oh, no. First I had to endure a fun thirty-minute car ride with my best friend since second grade. I scanned the curb in front of me for her small black car and caught sight of a tall woman waving at me. I grinned and walked forward, tugging along my baggage behind me.

"Ugh, it's so good to see you, Bee." I sighed as I enveloped my friend into a large hug. She let out a laugh and swayed us gently.

"It's good to see you, too," She hummed, rustling my hair "I forgot how short you were." Bee was an alpha; tall, muscular, and very quick to remind me of our differences. Of course, it was in a 'joking with love' kind of way. I was an omega; small, rounded, and very quick to punch her gently in the abdomen.

"I forgot how much of a jerk you are." I quipped, huffing and wheeling my bag to her trunk.

"Oh, come on, babes, don't be like that," Bee laughed, opening the driver side door and waiting for me to walk back to my side. "Now get in, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

---

"How are your heats going?"

"Jesus, that's what you want to start with?" I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. Bee shrugged.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," She clarified, turning out onto the street "I'm just saying, I know they've gotten pretty bad as we've gotten older. Did you try out those tips I sent you?"

"Yea, I did," I said quietly, looking at the trees rushing by on the side of the highway "They worked for a while but..."

"But you need an alpha," Bee sighed, finishing the sentence for me.

"That's the plan for this summer," I agreed "Might finally settle down."

"You know, I'm always here if you need me." She said with a wink. I scoffed at her.

"I'm not that desperate," I laughed, shoving her lightly "Not yet, at least."

"Anyone take your interest back in Colorado?"

"Not really," I hummed, tilting my head in consideration. "There was this one guy. We dated for a few months but towards the end he became a total knot-head. He couldn't keep his hands off me. I thought it was cute at first, but after I started to miss a few classes...well, that shit got old pretty quickly." Bee made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh, men," She grunted, wrinkling her nose "I'm glad I never went through that phase. I'm perfectly happy with chicks, thank you very much. Much less of a pain in my ass."

"Oh, they're not so bad," I smirked "I think it's just alphas in general." She glared at me momentarily and I stuck my tongue out at her. We drove in a comfortable silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. That was always something I loved about Bee. We never had to fill every second with chatter, we could just exist together in the same space and be just as content. She started to hum along to the song that buzzed softly from the radio and my eyes tracked a hawk. Soon enough, we reached our exit and Bee turned the car onto a smaller road, starting the countdown to my arrival home.

"Are you excited to see your dad?" Bee asked, killing the silence.

"Yea, I am," I smiled. We hadn't always had the best of relationships, but the distance that college gave had done wonders for us. A few texts and calls had worked perfectly for us. When he invited me to stay a few weeks during summer I gladly accepted. I wanted to see just how well our relationship had strengthened. Plus I knew he really needed someone.

"How's he doing?" There was genuine concern in Bee's voice. A few months ago, my mom had revealed that she had been having an affair with one of dad's work buddies. She left with him and took my brother down to Georgia.

"I think he's okay. But you know dad, he's not really an emotions guy. He was starting to get some closure but then the divorce papers came in the mail. That really hurt him," I told her, twisting a strand of my hair around my finger. "I just don't know how Lori could do that to him, you know? She won't even let Carl up to visit. The new baby's cute, though. Looks just like Shane." Bee hummed in acknowledgement.

"Well, tell him I said hi, alright?"

"Will do." A few more seconds of silence passed. Until we stopped at a light. Bee looked up and spotted a billboard that sported a very familiar, very handsome face.

"Holy shit!" Bee shrieked, slapping my arm.

"Ow, what the hell?" I hissed, grabbing my shoulder. She pointed frantically at the sign.

"That guy! Isn't that, shit- the hell's his name?" Pulling my eyes from my lap, I let them settle on the object of her excitement. All of the color drained from my face. It was an add for a law firm. There was an old geezer posing proudly on the left, and to his right, was the man who haunted my wet dreams for the majority of high school.

"Negan." I gulped.

"Yea, your dad's hot friend you never shut up about." Bee groaned, pressing on the gas and moving us away from the sign. Negan was a lawyer/make-shift-law-professor and baseball coach at the local community college. He had a sort-of contract with my dad's department. Many times I had come home after school to the two of them puzzling out a case on the kitchen table. Negan was an alpha of alphas, something that got my little omega heart (and other things) pumping until I couldn't breath. His humor and dominating persona made me blush a deep crimson color any time I saw him. Sometimes I would spend hours sitting on the stairs just listening to him talk to my dad. His voice was something else. I had gushed to Bee about him countless times during our times at high school. But I hadn't seen him since my graduation party.

"I wonder if you'll see him again," Bee teased, nudging me again to pull me out of my trance of memories. Then, she did a dramatic gasp. "What if he's your mate?" It was my turn to slap her in the shoulder.

"He's older than my dad!" I squealed, burying my now-blushing cheeks in my hands.

"You're an adult I don't think it matters."

"I think he's engaged."

"Just 'cause there's a goalie doesn't mean you can't scoooore." Bee pulled a face at me and I returned her grimace.

"Whatever, you're lucky we're almost at my house." I huffed, falling back into my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Oh, yea, omega? What are you gonna do?" I rolled my eyes as she laughed off my grumpiness. We rolled to a stop in front of my driveway and a leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks so much, Bee, I really appreciate you," I grinned, popping open the door.

"No problem, babes," She winked, unlocking the trunk "But I swear to the gods, you better fucking call me and give me updates on everything, especially if you run into Mr. Hotcakes." I rolled my eyes once more and promised her I would before closing the door. I retrieved my bag and gave her a wave as she drove down the street. When she was out of view, I took a deep breath and turned around, walking up the driveway to the front door.

I knocked heavily on the dark oak door. While I waited for someone to answer, I decided to look around at the home I had left behind about a year ago. My childhood home had changed now and then over the years, but there were still some iconic pieces of memories in the front yard that could never be forgotten. My personal favorite was Eddie the garden gnome. He was a standard gnome: small and stout with a large white beard that led into a pointy red hat. His eyes were shut and his mouth was curved into a smile. However, he was missing a nose. I grinned as I recalled the unfortunate mishap that caused Eddie to become deformed. I was about twelve, and carl was five. He had gotten a kid's baseball from Negan for his birthday and had begged me to teach him how to play, since I was on the local softball team at the time. I relented and set it up in the front yard. Eddie was our outfielder. Eddie didn't have a mitt. Well, he did, but it was his face. Carl absolutely smashed the first pitch I tossed at him and hit poor Eddie right in the face, shattering his round, pink nose into pieces. Carl bursted into tears and I had to promise him that he did not in fact kill our precious protector of our house. Lori ran out frantically and comforted her son before giving me a thorough chewing out for damaging Eddie. We never used the set again. That she knew of, anyways. Negan always let us play in his yard, though. I smiled at the memory, but the clicking of the lock to the door pulled me from my train of thought. The door swung open and I was met with the smiling face of my father.

"Sweetie, I'm so glad you made it!" He laughed, pulling me in swiftly and squeezing me tight.

"It's good to see you too, dad." I croaked, letting out a small chuckle. I tapped on his shoulder as a signal for him to let go.

"How was the flight?" He asked as he stepped out to grab my bag. I told him it was good but that the screaming kids had given me a bit of a headache. He gave a small laugh and gestured for me to enter. I thanked him and he rolled my bag in behind me. We exchanged a few words but as soon as I walked through the kitchen into the doorway of the living room I was hit by a wall. Not literally, no, but rather a wall of overwhelming scent. It was a delicious swirl of campfire and whiskey, with a hint of cigarettes and leather. I paused for a moment, my eyes forced closed and my lungs taking a deep breath of the intoxicating air. Colors danced across my eyelids. My whole body was flooded with warmth and my toes tingled. I felt safe and calm, and there was something else; something deep within my stomach that I couldn't quite identify, something I never felt before. My eyes snapped open when I felt my father's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind, sweetie, but I invited company over while I was waiting for you to arrive," He smiled at me. I got a good look at him then. He looked the same, his hair was a bit longer, a bit greyer. But his eyes were different. They were darker, rounder, rawer. I gave a soft smile and told him it was fine. He guided me into the living room. It was then I realized where that deadly smell was coming from. Or, rather, who it was coming from. "Negan, you remember my girl." In that moment, I held my breath as I scanned Negan. He looked fucking amazing, just as he always had. Perfect dimples guarding a charming smile, all surrounded by a gorgeous salt and pepper beard. His hair was longer than it was when I had left, not slicked back, but it still framed his face perfectly. Negan's body was draped casually over the sectional couch, legs crossed at the ankle on the ottoman. His arms were on the top of the couch and his wrists were dangling. He knew he was hot. That bastard. I suddenly became aware of his eyes raking over my form and I shifted from one foot to the other.

"'course I do, Rick," Negan said, voice silky and deep. I couldn't help but let a small shudder run down my spine. All I wanted to do was kneel down in front of him and curl up at his feet. I forced my inner omega down, shaking the thought from my head. "How could I forget the little slugger?" I cringed inside at the nickname. Especially the use of the word 'little'. I begged that he didn't still see me as the kid down the street. Instead as a grown woman. A grown omega.

"Hi, Negan." I greeted with a small smile, swallowing to relieve my dry throat. Now that I was next to him, his scent was clogging all my senses. I gripped onto the couch and lowered myself onto the cushion, hoping to ground myself. It helped, just barely. My heart was pounding, my instincts telling me to submit to this man in front of me. Why, though? Why now? He had never smelled this good before. No alpha had. Was I getting close to my heat? I did have a stomach ache, but that could be from Negan alone.

"Hey, sweetheart. How's college goin'?" Negan asked, sipping on his drink. He kept eye contact with me the whole time. Rick handed me a glass of soda and I thanked him.

"It's good!" I said after taking a sip, thankful for the hydration in my coarse throat "Towards the end it got a little hectic, but I was able to stay on top of everything, thankfully."

"You're studying film, right?" He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"That's right," I grinned, crossing my legs to relieve some of the pressure the movement caused to build up in my lower abdomen "You still teaching law?" This caused him to chuckle. Literally music to my ear.

"If that's what you want to fuckin' call it." Negan sighed, falling back to his original position, hands resting in his lap "I talk, the kids kinda listen. I just do it for the coaching job, really. You remember how much I love that damn sport, right?"

"Baseball?" I asked, raising a brow "You mean the only thing you talked about at all of the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners you were invited to?"

"Touché." Negan grinned. Goddamn that smile. Butterflies erupted in my chest, beating hard against my ribcage, begging to throw myself at his chest and bury myself in him. Rick cleared his throat and smiled at me to get my attention.

"I want to know more about your college experience!" He beamed, rubbing a hand through his beard "Any special alphas you've got your eyes on?" I heard Negan choke slightly on his whiskey. A small bubble of pride rose in my chest. I laughed at his words.

"Dad, I don't think Negan wants to hear about my love life."

"Shit, doll, I don't mind," He grumbled "I don't get to hear any drama now-a-days"

"What do you mean?" I giggled, tilting my head "You argue for a living. Your job is to literally deal with drama."

"Yea, but that's complex drama," He growled, waving his hand dismissively "I wanna hear simple, schoolgirl 'he loves me, he loves me not' kind of bullshit."

"Well sorry to disappoint," I snorted, running a hand through my hair "but no, there's no one I have an eye on." Dad's smile turned into a frown.

"Shame." I heard Negan whisper. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it. It was quiet, barely above his breath, and he said it while twirling his whiskey, following the words with a large gulp.

"You really should start looking, dear." Dad said with a sigh "You know it only gets harder as you get older."

"Dad please, I don't..." I cut him off "Listen, I appreciate you trying to understand this stuff, I really do, but I don't really want to talk about it with my father." He looked at me with an understanding smile.

"Sure," He nodded "But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you just let me know, alright." I nodded.

"Well, this sure has been fun, Ricky-boy," Negan grinned, getting to his feet and stretching his arms far above his head. "We do have that big court case in the mornin', though, and I need my shut-eye."

"Big case, eh?" I asked, rising from my seat as well. Dad nodded and excitement sparked in his eyes.

"You should come! It's an open court and I would love for you to see what I do. I know you always wanted to as a kid, but your mom made you wait until you were older. Well, now's the perfect time!" He rambled, grasping my shoulders.

"W-Well, I dunno, I don't want to be a distraction," I stumbled, taken aback by my father's display of enthusiasm. I turned to Negan, as if asking for permission. He just laughed.

"Oh-o, doll, I don't get distracted. Not in there, not anywhere. Don't you worry about a goddamn thing. You should come, Rick seems like he really wants you to."

"Okay, then," I grinned, nodding in commitment "I'll see you there in the morning then." I looked up to Negan and we locked eyes for a brief moment. But in that moment, something within me quivered. He brushed up against me and smirked down at me.

"See you tomorrow, sweetheart. It was nice to see you. You're lookin' great." It took all my willpower not to let out a whimper as he walked past me, taking his glorious scent with him.

My dad said that he should also get some rest, but that I could stay up as long as I wanted to. I was pretty wiped from my flight so I opted to follow him up the narrow staircase, tugging my bag behind me. I hugged him goodnight and stepped into my room. It hadn't been touched since I left last summer. The forest green bedspread was still perfectly tucked into the mattress and two plump pillows were perched at the head of the bed. My muscles ached for the soft release of sleep. I put my suitcase down by my dresser, taking a moment to smile at some old photos of me and Bee as kids. I showered and brushed my teeth before getting into the comfortable bed. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled softly at the glow-in-the-dark stars shining overhead. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, but for some reason, all of my dreams were plagued by the sweet smell, sound, sight, feeling, and taste of Negan.

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[buckleyblueyes]

once you find it (it can never be replaced)

Wrote this as a little late birthday present for @diazchristopher! I hope you like it Neethu! Happy belated birthday! 

Summary: It’s not an earth shattering realization, there’s nothing dramatic about it. It’s as simple as it is inevitable (also read on AO3)

Buck realizes he’s in love with Eddie three days before Halloween. It’s not an earth shattering realization, there’s nothing dramatic about it. It’s as simple as it is inevitable. It happens on a Monday morning at the station. The coffee maker breaks on the first cup of the day, and nobody's happy about it. Chimney makes a run to the coffee shop to get them through, but he’s not back yet, and Eddie is glaring daggers at the broken machine, as if he can intimidate it into working again.

“Hey, Bobby, can we get a Hildy?” Albert asks.

Eddie whips around before Bobby can say anything. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. It’s bad enough I have one of those hell machines spying on me at home.” He glances at Buck. “I refuse to let Hildy infiltrate the station.”

Bobby chuckles. “Calm down, Eddie. We couldn’t afford a smart coffee maker anyway.”

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, and Buck can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips. “You’re ridiculous,” is what he says out loud. “God, I love you,” is what he says in his head. It doesn’t take him by surprise, doesn’t freak him out like maybe it should, given that he’s dating someone who isn’t Eddie. He’s always known his feelings for Eddie were more complicated than simple friendship. He hasn’t let himself dwell on it, has always had good reasons for ignoring the flutter in his chest when Eddie looks at him a certain way, or the warmth that cascades through his body when Eddie finds a reason to touch him (a hand on his shoulders as he passes by, an arm brushed against his, a knee pressed against his thigh in the truck). It was always there, a faint hum in the back of his mind.

Easy to ignore, until suddenly it’s not.

Buck breaks up with Taylor on a Tuesday in November, two weeks after the hum in his mind has graduated to an all encompassing buzzing under his skin, three days before their six month anniversary. It’s not dramatic, or even very painful, for either of them, and Buck knows he made the right decision. He likes Taylor, but he doesn’t love her, and as sad as she is to see him go, he knows that she doesn’t love him either.  

He’s not sure why it takes him so long between the realization and the decision to break things off with Taylor. Maybe it’s because breaking up with Taylor means actually acknowledging that he’s in love with Eddie to someone other than himself. Not that he says it, but he knows it’s implied in the way he says, “I just don’t think this is what I want,” and the way she just nods, like she’s seen this coming. Which she probably has. Subtly has never been Buck’s strong suit.

He announces the breakup the next day at work because Chimney is asking when he’s free to babysit Jee-Yun next and mentions something about not wanting to get in the way of Buck’s relationship and Buck assures him that there’s no relationship to get in the way of. Chimney pats him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Buckaroo,” he says with a small smile.

“I’m okay,” Buck insists. “I was the one who broke it off.”

“Oh.” Chimney sounds dumbfounded, which Buck supposes is fair, given how often Buck talks about being lonely. “Why?”

Because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, Eddie choses that moment to step out from the otherside of the ladder truck. “Why what?”

“Buck broke up with Taylor,” Chimney says, like he’s not stepping in the middle of an emotional minefield--after all, none of the mines will blow him up.

Eddie’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. But Buck knows him well enough to see it.

“We wanted different things,” Buck says, shrugging. The bell rings before Eddie or Chimney can ask more questions. Buck sighs in relief.

By the end of shift, everyone at the station knows about the breakup, because Chimney knows, and Chimney loves gossip, and Buck told Chimney he could tell people. It saves him the trouble of having to acknowledge it, lets the word spread without him having to have the same conversation a dozen times. Instead he focuses on his work, pretending not to notice the sympathetic looks his coworkers keep flashing him. Poor Buck, they’re all probably thinking, alone again.

Well. Almost all of them. Buck has no idea what Eddie is thinking, but he’s sure it’s not the same sad sympathy everyone else is exuding because Eddie never even liked Taylor. He’s probably relieved he doesn’t have to make awkward small talk with her again, if anything. Eddie watches Buck like their other coworkers, but the look in his eyes isn’t sympathy. Buck pretends not to notice Eddie’s looks, too.

A week after Buck’s breakup with Taylor, he’s leaning against Eddie’s kitchen counter with a beer in his hand, and Eddie’s at the sink washing dishes (only fair, since Buck cooked dinner). Christopher is in his room working on homework, and the house is quiet, which only serves to emphasize the tension that’s been building between the two men for the last week, like a rubber band slowly pulled taut, just barely held in place between two fingers.

“So,” Eddie starts, in a tone of forced casualness. “How have you been doing since your breakup?”

Buck takes a swig of his beer. “Fine. It was my choice, and I don’t regret it.”

“Your choice,” Eddie echoes, placing the last dish on the drying rack, before turning to face Buck. “Y’know, you never really told me why.”  

Buck gulps. “Eddie…”

“Why did you break up with Taylor?” Eddie asks, dark eyes boring into Buck. The rubber band stretches even further. “And I don’t want the lie you told Chimney.”

Buck sets down his beer, and crosses his arms. “Why did you break up with Ana?”

“It wasn’t what I wanted,” Eddie doesn’t hesitate. “She wasn’t who I wanted.”

Buck’s arms fall back to his sides. “Who-what do you want, then?” He tries to swallow the word “who” in the back of his throat, but it comes out anyway. His palms are sweating and his heart is racing and oh, God, what if he’s wrong about this?

Eddie just takes a step forward, expression unreadable. “Don’t you know, Evan?” His voice doesn’t shake, but it’s quiet, almost a whisper. Like he’s forcing the words out before he loses his ability to speak completely.

It’s not even really an answer, not entirely. There’s just enough plausible deniability that Eddie could walk it back. Maybe. If they weren’t six inches apart. If Eddie wasn’t looking at him like every hope and dream he’s ever had rely on what Buck does next. If the last time Eddie used Buck’s first name wasn’t in a hospital room. If Buck didn’t know Eddie so completely.

The rubber band snaps.

Buck practically lunges forward into Eddie’s space, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. He kisses Eddie hard, pouring every ounce of pent up emotion from the last three and a half years into it, and Eddie kisses him back with equal intensity. Eddie’s hands on his waist, callused and warm, and Buck pushes Eddie up against the edge of the sink so their bodies are pressed together as firmly as their lips are. Buck’s fingers find their way from Eddie’s neck into his hair, and he tugs gently, earning a moan from the other man. Seizing the opportunity, Buck slides his tongue along Eddie’s lower lip, which falls open further to let Buck in. Time moves slow as honey around them, as they melt into each other. Nothing else in the world seems to matter except getting more and more of Eddie.

Buck’s giddy with the feeling. He’s kissing Eddie. Eddie is kissing him back. Eddie wants him. He has to pull back, unable to stop himself from letting out a small giggle.

“What?” Eddie asks, breathless. He sure is a sight, hair mussed and lips swollen. He looks wanton and a wave of smugness bubbles up in Buck’s chest because he did that.

“Nothing, I’m just happy,” Buck says softly, leaning down to rest his forehead against Eddie's. “I thought you might--but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Eddie’s brown eyes soften with fondness. “Me too.”

Buck swallows. “Should we talk about this?”

“Probably," Eddie says, and then continues in that casual, matter of fact tone of his, "I’m in love with you."

“Oh, well, good,” Buck ducks his head and smiles bashfully. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Eddie sucks a breath through his teeth, moving back just so he can move in again at the right angle for a kiss. “Well, then. Are we done talking?”

Buck pretends to think about it for a moment. “Hm, yeah. I think we’re on the same page.”

He barely finishes his sentence before Eddie’s lips are on his again, and this time he’s the one pushed up against the counter, the cold tile digging into his back. He knows they have more to talk about--how to tell Christopher, how (and when) they want to tell the team, what this means for their working relationship--but that’s all secondary. They’ll figure it out, together. Because he’s Buck and Eddie is Eddie, and they’ve both been all in since the day they pulled a live grenade out of a man’s thigh together.

Right now, all he needs is for Eddie to never stop kissing him like this.

(Eddie never does.)

[burnedbyshoto]

life is not a shoujo manga

— Kaibara believes that his life with you could be a shoujo manga. Why? One, he’s in love with you and two, you work at a maid cafe he is prohibited from visiting. But nothing happens in life without doing what you’re told NEVER to do.

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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, modern!au, reader is a sex worker, maid cafe but make it kinky, dubcon (spoiler: reader just services kaibara despite his embarrassment), semipublic sex, master and maid dynamic/kink, blow job, sex on a table, marking

word count: 4,570

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab for sex work lmaoooo, this was hella inspired by maid-sama,,, kinda sorta, not really, but hey!!!! check out the rest of the masterlist and I hope you enjoy this!!! happy birthday to me :D

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Kaibara Sen was pretty confident in the fact that he was not in a shoujo manga.

There are, however, some claims that he can unashamedly admit make him believe that he might be in one. Here is his gathered evidence:

1. He had a crush on a girl (you) that was practically written to be nothing more than a crazy, hopeful fantasy.

Explanation:

Kaibara has known you for his entire life, but you, the airheaded, mind focused on only those around you, had never noticed him. You were bright, intelligent, witty, with blazing eyes and a curling smile, you were an enigma in the world, and he was a bystander just waiting for a day when you would notice him. Popular as you were, Kaibara knew he stood no chance at ever playing a role in your life. There was no room for his initial stoic personality, the way that he walks away from you as you near because, god forbid, you see his ears tinge pink.

All in all, you never knew he existed, and his crush would have to remain one-sided and unknown. But you see, reason number two is yet a testament to his denied belief that he lives a shoujo manga.

2. He had gained your attention one day by catching you one day when you tripped off a brick wall.

Explanation:

Talk about falling into the arms of the one you’re destined for! Kaibara had been walking home from the end of his first year of high school, and as he turned a corner, there came a yell and he looked up to see a body plummeting towards him. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and superhuman strength supplying him the strength and ability to catch you, Kaibara caught you bridal style. He held you there for a few moments, the air suddenly blowing and the blossoming cherry blossoms swirling with the winds. He swore your eyes brightened at the moment you locked eyes.

3. He had a (former) love rival.

Explanation:

Pretty self-explanatory, Kaibara would admit. Before his introduction to you, another male student in your class had been essentially building up his intentions to ask you out. Kaibara wasn’t one to step on people’s toes; he respected people too much and often just didn’t want to spend energy where he thought was unnecessary. But you were never unnecessary. Kaibara wanted you and found himself clashing heads with this other love rival, but he seemed to have won the moment Kaibara was accepted into the same university as you.

4. You were working at a maid cafe.

Explanation:

Kaibara did not have an older sister for no reason. Maid-Sama and Ouran Highschool Host Club were constantly on repeat when he was growing up! Because of this selected memory and application, he believed that time and time again, whenever maids were involved — or any type of service job — it was shoujo material.

Four points and that was four more points than most romances, and Kaibara was convinced that he was in line to become the main star of a real-life adaption of some obscure shoujo manga. All he had to do now was seal the deal and get you, his now best friend of nearly four years, to fall in love with him.

“I have work tonight,” you sigh from your place on Kaibara’s bed, your face twisted in a dissatisfied pout, feet kicking a bit on the mattress. 

“Call out,” Kaibara simply replied, his head resting upon yours as you both watched an old All Might film. “I don’t understand why the maid cafe is open so late anyways. Who’s even awake and wanting to go out?”

You chuckle at his words, fingers tapping on your thigh — as they do when you’re a bit nervous.

“It’s a cafe for foreigners and people who are up late,” you repeat the same line you always say when Kaibara asks why you would go in so late. “It works out, and it pays well.”

“How long is your shift tonight?”

“Ten until three.”

Kaibara groans, “that’s rough.”

You snicker a bit in unknown irony, “you have no idea.”

Time passes, and Kaibara realizes that it’s nearly nine-thirty by the time you pull away from the small mirror on Kaibara’s desk (he bought it so that you could do your makeup in his room), and he looks at you in your beautiful form. You looked ethereal in the makeup, big eyes, and painted pretty lips. You turned to look at him, a grand grin painting your lips, and for whatever reason, a spoof of unspoken for confidence, Kaibara feels himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“Go on a date with me? Next weekend?”

You froze, before chuckling, lips splayed in a lazy grin, “you’d want to date a maid?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Kaibara watched as you flustered a bit, teeth tugging and tearing into your lower lip as you shook your head. “You’re a dork, Sen,” you push back a strand of hair as you stand up, “but let me think about it? As much as I love the idea of potentially being your girlfriend, I need to think about how you would feel about my job.”

And Kaibara smiled despite himself, his mind thinking about how sometimes shoujo protagonists often deny their own feelings at first. Not that his life was a shoujo manga anyways.

“I can do that.”

You laugh, the sound pretty and light on his ears, and you shake your head. Kaibara warmed at the sound and stood up too, already knowing that it was time for you to leave.

“Alright, but I must leave you now, my eternal love,” you grin, speaking with a mock accent. Your arms open for your goodbye hug he has since been accustomed to giving you when you both went separate ways. “I bid thee well when I’m away for the week.”

Ah yes, you would be gone for an entire week on account of a school trip you were taking.

“I do not know how I may live without you at my side, but I will try,” Kaibara spoke back with a low accent, too, his smile hidden in your neck as he hugged you near. “Have a good shift, and be safe on your trip.”

“Obviously!”

Two things about your job besides the obvious (that it was a maid cafe) that Kaibara knew.

1. You made a lot of money there.

He wasn’t all too sure as to why. He’s been to a maid cafe before and has definitely been called Kaibara-sama by pretty-faced females in French maid costumes. He knew that it was a popular place for otaku men and foreigners, but he also knew that pay range-wise, it wasn’t that much better than a typical waitress job.

2. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone for that matter, follow you to work or try to see you while you worked.

This made sense to Kaibara even if he didn’t particularly agree. There was no denying that he wanted to see you in a maid costume, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but he realized how embarrassing it could be for you. The fact that he knew where you worked was good enough for him.

Kaibara sighed, his body collapsing onto his bed, and he pulled out his phone. He checked the time on his phone and smiled, seeing that at this point, you were already at work because you sent a text saying that you had arrived. A small notification warning him that his phone was about to die pinged on his screen, and he frowned, hand reaching for his charger.

But instead of the white cord, his hand grasped onto the rose gold charging cable he knew was yours. You needed the charging cable; you were leaving on a trip basically right after work! Kaibara’s mouth twisted, weighing his options in his head. He knew that you had no other charging cables; you had a knack for breaking them without meaning to. 

Shaking his head, he stood up.

This was about your charger for your phone.

It would be okay! He would simply step foot into the maid cafe, hand your coworker (he was hopeful he would see you) your charger, and leave! He wouldn’t stay! Nope! Not at all.

Kaibara nodded at his resolution and pocketed your charger before turning on his heel and marching out of his room.

It took a bit to get to the cafe.

Fushi’s Maid Cafe is what it was called.

Its hours of operation were quite weird, at the very least in Kaibara’s opinion. On its website, it said that it was open between 11 am and 5 pm, a reasonable range for its demographic; however, there were many times in which you would go in much later in the night. You were in a 10 pm until 3 am shift after all.

It was currently midnight as the trains were down for the night, and Kaibara had resolved to walk a near hour to drop off your charger. He didn’t really mind, especially if he sees you in that costume.

‘No!’ Kaibara thought, ‘you’re in a shoujo manga, not a hentai!’

He frowned, remembering to continue to claim that he was not living in a shoujo manga, and strode to the door. Confidence in every step, his game plan being repeated time and time again. 

Kaibara swung open the door, readying himself to hear the onslaught of a chorus of ‘Welcome home, Master!’ but instead… oh…

He froze.

“F-Fukuda-samaaaaa!”

He blinked.

And as the door closed behind him, the most fucked out, blissful voice that he had only heard in his wettest of dreams called out, “Welcome home, Kaibara-sama…”

Kaibara locked eyes with you sitting alone at a table, your eyes laced with blissful lust, lips pouty and wet. The maid costume you had on exposed your beautiful breasts, shoving the curves, the tender flesh, and your sweat shined softly off it. Kaibara felt his breathing become shallower yet deeper as the sounds of meeting wet sex, lewd cries, the maids begging for more, demanding more. The clients — the masters — speaking in tongues as they fucked the women against the chairs, tabletops, anything in which they could balance. 

Oh.

It made sense why you never wanted anyone to follow you to work.

Kaibara had been so caught up in the scene before him, the somehow sex maid cafe themed orgy (sexy party? But there was no group sex minus the man in the back fucking three maids!) that he hadn’t noticed you approach him. He tensed yet again when your hands fisted into his shirt, your warm breath brushing against his exposed collarbones, a curling sweetness emitting from your person and knocking his breath away yet again.

“Kaibara-sama, I never expected you to finally come. I’ve missed you,” you whine, pressing your body so close to his. Your stocking-covered thighs were brushing against his slowly awakening dick. 

“Y-Y/n,” Kaibara stuttered, and he winced at how not part of the plan that was. “I-I thought this was a maid cafe?”

“We are a maid cafe,” you sigh as if he was asking an amusing yet dumb question. Your arms wrapping around his neck, and hips rolling against his. “We service our masters however they see fit! I wanna help Kaibara-sama feel good now that he’s here.”

Kaibara hisses under his breath, the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing dick insatiable as it is slightly uncomfortable due to the rough fabric of his jeans. “I’m here to drop off your charger! You forgot it! I-I’m leaving after this.”

You grin, your laughter bell-like in his ear as you nuzzle your nose against the smooth curve of his neck. “I left it there on purpose; I wanted Kaibara-sama to follow me here and see if he could still love me like this.” Goosebumps flash across his body, and Kaibara whines at the back of his throat as you begin walking backward, taking him to the table where you once sat. “I never wanted Kaibara-sama to see me like this, never wanted Kaibara-sama to see and know what a big whore I am before he confessed his feelings to me. But Kaibara-sama followed me to my work and didn’t run away… I’m so blessed.”

Your hands landed on his chest, and Kaibara yelped as you shoved him onto the spacious, comfortable chair before the table. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, eyes practically glowing with lust as a single sleeve began descending from your shoulder.

Kaibara suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“I’m at your service, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “How may I help you?”

Kaibara was going to respond eloquently and affirmatively that he didn’t need you to service him, but the Kaibara-sama sounded so lovely.

“I— um, well— I— ohmygoD!” 

Kaibara nearly leaped out of his own skin as you pushed his knees apart and kneeled before him. Your eyes locked on his before glancing down to the prominent bulge in his pants. You grin, fingers stretching out and eagerly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his hard cock in less than ten seconds.

“Wowwww,” you breathe, eyes lighting up at the still hardening dick you were holding in your hands. “Kaibara-sama… you’re so big!”

You stared at the easily nine-inch dick in your hands, the slight curve to it making your core burn, and the bluish veins dancing under the skin making your mouth water. He was better than what you had expected him to be, and you wanted to know how he tasted, how he felt in your mouth and your pussy. 

His erratic breathing caught your attention, and you looked back up at him, the scarlet on his cheeks, the expression that told you that he was battling instinct and morals. It was up to you, his maid, to make the decision for him, it seemed.

“I’ll take good care of you, Kaibara-sama,” you promised, heart hammering in your chest as you leaned forward, and without much of an issue, swallowed at least half of his cock.

Kaibara’s reaction is instantaneous; the near howl of pleasure and surprise ripping from his throat is a sound you’re almost unfamiliar with. He was such a serious man; even when he was comfortable and energetic, there was a sense of seriousness to him. There was a time, however, that you remember him being near-feral, demanding, excited. It was when there was a competition or when his feelings truly and utterly overcame him. You smiled around his cock, your teeth barely scraping the length of his cock, and giggled.

You overwhelmed him.

But there was no time for celebrations, no time to think about how you were serving your master to the best you could; his hands were suddenly fisted into your hair, and his hips rolled up into you, fucking your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes, the uncomfortable sensation of his cock flushes down your throat, pressing so heavy on your tongue.

“F-Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” Kaibara gasps, his eyebrows scrunching and hips lifting off the seat to continue face fucking you. 

You relax your throat as best you can, chokes and gags pittering out of your mouth despite your best attempts. You hum, forcing your throat to allow the tip of his cock to go even further down your throat. Kaibara moans loudly, the noises he makes dripping down your back, making you feel sweaty, hot, and flush. His noises stir the heat between your thighs, making one of your hands go down beneath the layers of your puffy skirt to press to your throbbing clit, desperate to relieve the building, untouched tension.

“No!” Kaibara hisses, a single hand leaving your head to grab onto your wandering hand and bringing it back up. You yelp around his cock at the sudden movement, and you’re forced to come off his cock with haggling, rough coughs. Tears fall down your cheeks, and there's a thick line of saliva and precum trailing between the tip of his cock and the bottom of your lip. “You’re my maid, right?”

You cough, your lungs are burning with wrongly swallowed saliva, and the recent asphyxiation you had. Cocking your head to the side, you startle when he suddenly leans in near, pinching your cheeks between two fingers and drawing you near him.

“Answer me, y/l/n-chan.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeak, swollen lips trembling and your breathing hitching as you shiver. There was a fire in his eyes, a type of lust-fueled rage that made your skin tingle and crawl in the sweetest of ways. “I’m here to service Kaibara-sama.”

“Then why are you trying to relieve yourself?” he snaps, face so near you want to kiss him, and you whimper because his scolding and humiliation do nothing to ease the fire in your cunt… it only ravages it, letting it fester into a raging wildfire. “You’re here for me, your master, so fuck me — focus on just me.”

“Yes, Kaibara-sama!” you shiver, body tingling as you reclaim his cock in your mouth.

And unlike before, where Kaibara merely sounded like a man who was feasting upon the food of the gods, he sits up straighter, more commanding, a man who sat in his chair knowing his worth. He took on the deception of a master.

“Hold my dick with your hands,” Kaibara grunts, hands fisting the hair at the nape of your neck and forcing your head to tilt up towards him. “I can’t trust you.”

You nodded your head, hands coming up to hold onto the base of his cock that your mouth couldn’t take in. You were fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks doing all it could to please your master. You sucked his dick with the intention of promising him that you were worth it, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you wanted to consume.

“Such a good sluttly little maid,” Kaibara praised and degraded. His hands tighten almost painfully in your hair. “Taking my big cock so easily... Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on other men.”

You make a noise that screams no.

You would never!

“Oh, no?” Kaibara grunts, his tongue licking out past his lips, and you shudder under his gaze. “Did my slutty fucking maid keep her mouth clean for me?”

You whine in approval, your lungs burning as he keeps you still on his cock, eyes deceivingly angry.

“Good… that just means I’ll have to fuck your whore pussy so good you’ll never ask or seek a  new master,” Kaibara grinned, and your eyes widened. 

It happened so fast, you were on the ground one second, and in the next, he had you pinned with your back against the table. It was almost uncomfortable, the edge of the table pressing into your spine, and your hands scrambled to latch onto his shirt as his jeans fell to his knees and his hands gripped the top of your maid outfit down, exposing your naked breasts. 

His hands found a place on your breasts, warm and calloused fingers moving against smooth, soft skin. You moaned loudly, hips twitching unconsciously as he brushed against the swell of your nipple. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kaibara groaned, fingers pinching roughly against your skin, and you warbled a scream. It wasn’t painful; it was pleasurable. Your head swam in a way it never had before when you had serviced other men, your clit was throbbing with an increase of needed attention, and your voice keened with his praise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you — wanted this. I wanna make you feel so good, let your master fuck you however I want, y/l/n, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You nod your head, words failing you, and you watched Kaibara let out a heavy stream of air out of his nose, a near perverted, happy grin on his face.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Ruin me. Claim me. Make me yours.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“You were never not mine.”

And with a hand looping underneath your knee and with the sudden shove on your shoulder to knock you back, Kaibara pressed his cock against your wet, sopping entrance and shoved into you. You scream loudly, hands digging into his back as his cock enters you, unforgiving and demanding. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his hips as you shudder and shake, body twitching under the dull, hot stretch of him in you, your body sweating with the consuming heat and pleasure that his entrance gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, fingernails digging into his skin, face burying into his neck. “Kaibara-sama is so big, he’s stretching me out so much, I’m— I can’t—”

Kaibara clicks his tongue, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, “Don’t say that, y/l/n-chan. Don’t ever tell your master that you can’t. You can do anything so long as I ask of it, right? I don’t like the word can’t.”

You whimper, head nodding in understanding as you shift your hips partly for needed friction, partly for relief. 

“Stop that,” Kaibara orders, hands suddenly on your hips, preventing you from moving. “Ask permission from your master if you can move. You are here to serve me; you are not here for yourself. Do you understand?”

Your breathing is heavy, your legs shaking as you nod, breathlessly saying that you agree even though you need relief. You need to please your master; you have to make sure he continues to want your service: just you, no one else.

“Good girl,” he praises and somehow pushes even further into you.

You moan loudly at the movement, fingers digging into his skin yet again, and Kaibara laughed, teeth nipping at your collarbone. Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single happy noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“So tight, so hot,” Kaibara groans, his teeth dragging up and down your neck as his hips roll back and thrust back into you at his own pace. It’s steady, slow almost—a steady beat like a subtle heartbeat that kept you sane. “Don’t be quiet… I want to hear what I do to you; I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”

And a hand pinches your clit at the same time he slams roughly, with tremendous strength into you, and you wail.

It’s as if that wail was a starting sound, the sound that told Kaibara that he was in the clear to do whatever he wanted. To fuck you as he deemed, to make you fulfill your duty to providing and exceeding his every need and demand. He fucked into you, each snap of his hip, every roll, sending loud slaps through the room. The table creaked and shifted with every advancing move, and you rolled your hips up, fucking back into him, desperate to make his breath hitch and hiss in pleasure. His teeth buried into your skin, sucking and nibbling marks onto your skin, subtle and near bloody marks to show the world that you were his.

“Kaibara-sama!” you scream at a particular thrust, back arching wildly, eyes slamming shut as you moan to the heavens. “Kiss me please! Please kiss me—”

Kaibara’s mouth was over yours immediately. You cried into his mouth, shuddering and shaking as he continued his maddening dance with you, the endless, exciting cycle of tingling sensations and exploding warmth. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting of him, iron, and sweat. You moan louder, your velvet walls clenching and milking against his length. You don’t want to ever pull out; you want him, his seed, everything.

He kisses you like a madman, someone who believed that if he stopped, he would die.

You eat it up, returning it in full, unable to even believe you want him to stop. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” Kaibara pants, hands coming back down to your hips and keeping them in place as he suddenly, powerfully, and somehow rhythmically pounding into you in short, strong fucks. 

It’s overwhelming, the feeling of his girth stretching you out and abandoning you so quickly, the way his tip licks against your cervix, teasing up against your sweet spot. His face is desperate, needing, and so powerful that you cry to him, your master, your god. Your pussy is soaked with your essence, the sex spilling it all-around your thighs and on him, the wet squelching pounding making you embarrassed and so much more turned on. His teeth sink into your jaw, and your body is begging, twitching, the heat in your stomach overwhelming and no longer building but waiting for it to be unleashed. 

“K-Kaibara-sama!” you cry, a warning for the near-inevitable.

But you wail his name, the electricity in your veins and blood scorching the levels of your skin, and Kaibara takes that as a reason to do more, to fuck more. He drills into you at a new speed, a new power. Your head is swimming in the delirium, and your body trembles, the words “more, faster, harder” spilling from your mouth without consent, but tears build in your eyes as his fingers seem to almost spin against your clit and you scream.

You cum loudly, aggressively, all your energy destroyed as you hit the high. Kaibara moans against your bruised and marked skin; the warmth heat of spilling seed expelling into your cunt is a sensation that drives you insane as he collapses his weight on top of you. You’re breathless, speechless, a part of you unable to comprehend that your crush had fucked you before he had kissed you, that he was the best fuck you had, and how this man wanted you back.

It’s quiet for a bit, the two of you laying on the table as cum dripped out of your cunt, and he rested his head between your exposed breasts.

“So,” you finally rasp, a soft grin coming onto your face. “You have my charger?”

-

“18000 yen?!” Kaibara barked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the older lady at the counter who was billing him for his session.

“We are a sex club, Kaibara-sama,” she sighed. “Not only did you have a three-hour session with our most requested maid, but you also marked the merchandise.”

“I couldn’t?!” Kaibara snapped but cooled down almost immediately when the lady pointed at a: ‘Fines for every mark on the maids!!!!’ sign. “Oh.”

“Take it from my paycheck,” you sing from beside him, bundled up in a coat, the marks he gave you completely hidden now. It was the end of your shift and closing time, after all. “I got him riled up without telling him the rules.”

Kaibara chuckled as you arranged a proper check for him.

He thought about what he thought of his life, and while he couldn’t say that his life wasn’t a hentai right now, he knew, without a doubt, that life is not a shoujo manga.

[t-o-m-hollands]

Summary: It’s the late summer of 2004. You are set to travel across the country for university and your best friend Tom is staying behind. You spend your last night together before you leave. 

Themes: Friends to lovers, love confessions, first love. 

Warnings: Drinking beer. One mention of smoking weed. Mentions of parents fighting and also implied neglectful parents. Smut (+18), two spanks?? otherwise pretty tame.  

Word count: 3,4 k

Notes: I don’t know, this might be a bit different? Or it might just feel that way to me. It’s very reminiscent of teenage years and first love and nostalgia. Please let me know your thoughts, I’m genuinely not sure what to think about this one. 

Massive thank you to @augustholland​ who read through it and very kindly reassured me that it wasn’t bad 💖

Also, this fic was inspired by the Phoebe Bridgers song. I’ve never actually listened to it but it keeps showing up in my recommendation and i like the title of it so this is what i imagine that song is about. Mostly I listened to Harry Styles - Fine Line while writing this.

You finish up early that afternoon. Wayne, your old boss, tries not to cry as he hugs you goodbye. He tells you to take care in a gravelly voice close to breaking, as he avoids looking at you. It’s your last shift in the greasy bar, where for the last two years you’ve been selling cheap beer and watered down whiskey to weary old men and rowdy students who come in for a game of pool. It hasn’t paid much, just a few pounds an hour; just enough so that on each thursday you and Tom have enough money for movie tickets at the local cinema. It’s your tradition. Like a religious man goes to church each sunday; you spend your thursday nights with Tom’s arm slung around your shoulders, watching whatever new film they have on, sharing a bowl of popcorn between you. Afterwards you'll have burgers at the fast food joint across the street; talking about the movie long into the night, sharing a bag of fries. 

When you were younger and hadn’t been able to afford to pay Tom had sneaked you both into the cinema anyway.  Your hand in his, he had led the way into the movie theatre when no one was looking. Sitting in the back row he’d sneak you Fruit Polos to snack on, his arm slung around your shoulders, as you watched movies you were way too young for.

Last week was your final movie screening; some light-hearted American comedy, and the entire way through it you fought the lump in your throat, forcing yourself not to cry. Tom hadn’t laughed either; had just held you closer than usual. 

Tomorrow you are set to leave the small seaside town behind you, the place where you have spent most of your life, for a drive all across the country; to start university in a city you’ve only visited once before. You’re not sure when you’ll return.

Thus lately everything has been laced with goodbyes; childhood having reached its end.

Just two days ago there had been the last bonfire where you had watched the Holland boys fight each other while playing football as his parents looked on and laughed, grilling sausages over the open fire. 

It was on the same rocky beach where you have spent many summer days; grilling food on the open fire and throwing back cheap beer with your friends from school. You have scraped your knees on these rocks, burned your skin from both the bonfire and the sun there; have had your heart broken over and over and over again during your school years as you watched Tom kiss whatever girl he was dating at the time by the fire during summer night parties.

Maybe you had broken his heart a few times as well. 

As the afternoon light turns everything golden you drive through the main street in the small town where  everyone knows everybody, and has done for generations. You watch the people as you drive them by. You know everyone’s name, know each crack in the pavement; can find your way home in the dark. 

God knows how many shoes you’ve worn out over the years walking down these streets. 

The radio plays a blink-182 song you know by heart as you follow the road out of the city, through the woods and up to the coast. At the end of a muddy track, on the border to the forest, stands a shabby old caravan. It faces the beach and above the door christmas lights are lit up all year round. 

The Holland family legend says that Tom’s great uncle had won the small patch of land in a bet. Unable to build a large house he had bought a caravan and put it on the lot. The old man had lived in the Shed for the rest of his lifetime, before passing it on to Tom; the youngster of the family, his younger brothers having yet to be born. When he had turned seventeen he moved out of his parents larger, more comfortable house, and into the Shed. His mother had agreed on it on the condition he took on the apprenticeship to become a carpenter that he had been offered. 

You remember when he had told you of his decided future, one late evening as you sat on the driftwood by the beach, smoking weed and watching the sun set over the horizon. It had felt right somehow, you had been able to  imagine him working with his hands, skillfully forming and bending wood to his will; his long and slender fingers knowing just how to fix things. Tom has always been good at mending things. It had been three years now and he was a full time employee at the JBT Carpentry Services. He says it doesn’t pay much, but he’s happy; and that's all that matters.

As you park the car outside the Shed Tom comes out. Standing under the colorful christmas lights he grins widely as he sees you, his eyes crinkling at the sides. The most genuine smile you know. He’s tanned from a summer spent on the beach, his hair a wavy mess; as if he’d just woken up from sleep. It’s a warm august day and the world seems sunbleached somehow; but in the afternoon light Tom looks golden. 

You are painfully aware that it is the last time you’ll see him like this for many months to come.

Walking up to him and he gives you a bear-hug; his warm, hard body pressed against yours, holding onto you tightly. With your face in the crook of his neck you breathe him in and discover that a faint trace of bonfire smoke still lingers on his skin. It all feels achingly familiar and safe. So heartrendingly unlike the uncertain life at university that lies in front of you.

Tom is your safe place.

Your parents had always fought like cat and dog and sometimes when you were younger and  they’d argue you’d climb through your window and walk all the way over to the Holland household. You were always welcomed there and his parents didn’t ask any questions, no matter how late the hour; instead they fed you, treating you like a member of the family around the dining table with gentle teasing and reminders of homework that needed to be done, letting you sleep over when needed. No questions asked. 

With the years the fighting at home got worse. When Tom fixed himself a beat-up old Land Rover and moved out to the Shed you’d call him from the payphone down the road. He’d always answer, telling you to pack up; and that he was on his way. He’d pick you up by the end of the street, a duffle bag with schoolbooks and a change of clothes slung over your shoulder. He’d take you back to his place to sleep. His caravan only had one bed, so you used to curl up next to each other in bed. On the nights when you were crying he’d hold you, and in the morning he’d make you breakfast before you both went off to school. 

Your parents never noticed your temporary absence. 

Tom lets go of the hug, but with an arm around your waist he leads you into his home. There’s a lingering scent of fried food in the air and the boombox is playing the 3 Doors down CD he’s been obsessed with since you bought it for his birthday. You tread the cherry wood veneered flooring with your battered tennis shoes, feeling more at home here than anywhere else on earth.

 “Fancy a beer?” Tom asks, leading the way to the kitchen area. “Warn you though, it's warm. Just got back from the store so they haven’t had time to cool”.

Everything is warm today, and the caravan is no exception. The ancient AC had given in years ago and Tom could never afford having it fixed. You heave yourself up on the countertop, replying a simple “sure” to his question. 

He opens a Stella and hands it to you. He isn’t wrong, the beer is tepid. Yet you drown half the bottle in one big swig; happy just to have something to do with your hands when he’s standing so close to you. Gulping down on the liquid and you cannot help but notice Tom’s eyes on your throat as you swallow. He opens a bottle for himself and takes a swig. 

You smile at the ancient gray t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point there had been a band logo on it, but it has long since been washed out. He notices you smiling at him and as if it's infectious a smile broadens on his face as well. “What?” he asks, leaning against the small counter across from you.

“Nothing” you say, smiling wider. “Just wondered how many times I’ve seen you in that shirt. I mean, it has to be near a couple of thousand times by now”.

“You don't exactly love buying new clothes either” he says, a teasing smile playing at his lips as he looks at your washed out jeans shorts. “I know for a fact that those aren’t new, darling”. His eyes linger on your legs for a moment too long before he looks away, taking a swig from his beer. 

“So, when are you leaving?” He asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to sound relaxed, but leaned against the countertop, his arms crossed in front of him, head bowed; holding onto the bottle of Stella he’s nursing with a tight grip. He looks tense and on edge. 

“Tomorrow morning”

He takes a swig from his beer. There’s nothing more to say, not really. Everything that happens now is just aftermath; you might as well have already left. 

“I’m nervous” you admit, biting your lip, trying hard not to et out the tears you’ve been holding in for days now; embarrassed that your voice trembles on the last word. 

His head snaps up to look at you. Pushing off the counter he takes a step forward, placing himself in between your legs. 

“Hey” he says, with a voice a low and gentle as a whisper, his hand cupping your cheek. You look up at him; long dark eyelashes framing his beautiful brown eyes, his thin lips slightly parted and across his nose freckles are spread out, the result from a summer spent in the sun. His calloused hand strokes your cheek. “You’re going to take them by storm, Pebbles”.

You smile, despite your fluttering heart. He hasn’t called you Pebbles for a long time. It had been his nickname for you when you first became friends, the reason behind it long forgotten. He was the only one to ever call you it, and the name had lingered long into your late teenage years. 

“You took me by storm,” he admits. 

You blink up at him through wet eyelashes. Your family had moved to the town when you were ten years old. This was the kind of small town that strangers seldom came to and inhabitants rarely left; and so the new addition to the small local school had everyone talking. You had felt like an astronaut shuffled into space on your first day, trying to find gravity in the unfamiliar school corridors. You had felt the pull of gravity in form of the brown-eyed boy sitting next to you in english class. He had given you a warm smile as you sat down next to him. He had made you his friend, listened to you and confided in you; had made you laugh until your stomach ached. You found further gravity in his home; surrounded by his family and their endless squabbles and laughter, sitting next to Tom at the dinner table.

It hadn’t taken long before you and Tom were an inseparable item; your names always linked to one another in the mouths of others. 

“You’ve worked so hard for this scholarship” he says, and the corners of his mouth tugs up into a smile, “I mean, I’m pretty certain you’re the only reason I even finished school”.

You had helped him write most of his essays at school. He’d struggled with reading a lot and found the assigned novels difficult. There were evenings where you’d spend hours laying on the bed; twisting the phone cord between your fingers, as you read the books out loud for him. 

Sometimes, in order to be left alone from his parents and younger brothers, he’d walk down to the end of the street and to the payphone there, where he’d spend all his pennies listening to you reading. You had talked and talked until your voice got hoarse; until he ran out of pennies. Yet when he hung up you always felt a tug of longing in your chest, knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him until the next day in school. 

“Well,  I heard you’re doing pretty good as a carpenter” you say, smiling up at him. “I always knew you’d be good with your hands”. 

As soon as you’ve said it you can feel your face heat up. You had heard the rumours at school; Tom Holland is a stellar fuck. Once, while you were in the bathroom stall, you had heard a gang of girls discuss it as they reapplied their lipgloss in the mirror. One of them told the story of her one night stand with Tom, how he had made her come several times over with his hands and mouth; how he’d fucked her so long and so good. You had stood in the stall, your heart in your throat; feeling sick to your stomach, but unable to stop listening.

There were girls that reached out to you in school, knowing you were Tom’s closest friend, and asked you in hushed but awed voices if it was true. If he really that good in bed.

He looks you dead in the eye, an unusual seriousness to his warm eyes. He knows what you’re thinking, knows what thoughts have made your cheeks flush with colour. Letting go of your cheek he places his arms on either side of you on the counter; caging you in. 

“There’s never been anyone but you, Pebbles. Not really.” His tone is heavy with meaning and you feel light-headed; both oddly detached from your own body and painfully aware of the closeness of his. Your heart is beating hard in your chest. 

This is a line you’ve never crossed before. 

“I know I’m ruining everything by saying this, but you’re leaving tomorrow and I’ve been walking around with this secret lodged in my chest like a bullet since i was ten years old; I love you, Pebbles. I’ve always have”.

You should speak. You should tell him that you’ve known for a long time how he’s felt. That it’s been evident in the way his eyes keep lingering on your legs, in the way his arm usually finds its way to rest around your waist. In the way he’s always been there for you. You should tell him that you understand why he hasn’t been able to voice his feelings for you; because you haven’t done it either. Too scared of losing him. But your breath has caught in your throat and all you can focus on is those caramel eyes on you, and how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

“I love you too” you say, voice hardly louder than a whisper. You swear there was music coming from the boom box but all you can hear is the blood rushing through your body. 

He kisses you.

He takes your mouth slowly, kissing you thoroughly until you can’t think straight; can’t remember any other kiss than his. Then his lips move over yours with more fervour; more urgency, one hand around your throat and the other tangled in your hair. He kisses you until you're both moaning and gasping for more. 

This is it. You’ve crossed the invisible line between friends and lovers; and there is no return, no going back from here. When you leave tomorrow you will leave knowing what his mouth feels like pressed against your.

You dig your hands into his soft hair, runs them both up his chest, realising that this is what your hands were made for. He lifts you off the counter and you wrap your legs around his waist. He moves you both across the caravan and into the bedroom. It’s baking hot in there and you can already feel sweat forming at the low end of your back. The room, just big enough for a bed to fit, is lit up with sunlight. His bed is a mess of rumpled white sheets and the walls are the same cherry wood colour as the rest of the caravan. 

You kiss and lick his jaw, his neck, his throat; anywhere you can reach you stroke him. You tug at his hair, kiss his soft lips, and nib at his ear. It’s like the gates have been opened, because even though his arm has always been a comforting presence around your waist; and even though you’ve slept in the same bed more times than you can count, his body curled up next to yours, forming himself like a question mark around your body; he’s never been yours to touch before. Not like this.

His breathing is accelerated, his chest rising and falling in rapid speed, and so is yours. There’s a heat to his eyes that tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. You pull at his shirt before he’s even laid you down on the bed; impatiently craving all his warm, suntanned skin pressed against yours. It’s an almost feverish frenzy, and in the back of your mind you know that you should take this slow. You don’t want this to end too soon, because this might be all you get. But the sun hasn’t even set yet and through the old white-washed curtains you helped put up and light shines through, bathing you both sunshine. 

Outside the waves keep crashing against the shore and in the kitchen his boombox keeps playing songs you’ve heard a million times before. It is like it always has been at Tom’s, except that for laying on his sofa and talking he’s removing your clothes; kissing his way down your body. Wet, opened mouth kisses that leave a trail of heat in its wake that have you bucking your hips up for more. His hands are everywhere, exploring your legs. He’s looking at your skin with wide-eyes adoration. With his body in between your wide spread legs he kisses the soft inside of your thighs. 

“So soft” he groans against your skin, “and so sweet”.

You feel overheated and breathless; aching all over from wanting him. Perched up on your elbows you observe him; his dark hair brushing against the low of your stomach as he kisses the tender skin of your hip bone. He bares his teeth and bites the sensitive flesh. 

His hand cups your cunt. You’re wet and aching and as you presses his thumb to your clit, gently but steadily moving up and down, you feel like you’re going to combust. His strokes are soft at first, before speeding up, making you moan wantonly, spreading your legs wider for him.

“Glad you like that,” he says, a satisfied smile spreading on his face. “Do my fingers feel good on you, darling?”

All you can do is moan in response, arching and moving your hips up to meet his hand. His movements are fast and slippery and it doesn’t take long until your close, so close, so close; on the brink of tipping over and then - 

A sharp slap on your pussy, leaving a stinging bite, and it is like the world splits into two. 

“God” you moan, voice hoarse. You’re shuddering all over; moanes falling freely from your lips. 

He looks up at you from his position in between your legs, his dark eyes sparkling. He kisses the soft inside of your thighs again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you here?” he asks. “I bet you do, torturing me for fun in those short jeans shorts”. He spanks your pussy again and you couldn’t have stopped the moan falling from your lips even if you tried. “How long I’ve wanted to taste you here?”. And he places a hot kiss on your wet slit. You can feel his soft hair pressed against your thighs; his warm breath against your skin.

His lips part and he covers you with his mouth, his tongue moving over your opening; touching you, stroking you, tasting you. A guttural moan leaves him. He looks up at you through tassels of hair, caramel eyes glued to your face.

You fall back against the mattress, “more” you demand, in a voice that sounds a lot like begging. “Please, more”.

It is as if he’s been unleashed. You have never felt anything like it, but he laps you up, tastes you; his fingers moving inside you; pressing against the place that has you seeing stars. You can’t even look at him now, you’re eyes shut; too overwhelmed by the stimulation. Both aching for more but not sure if your body can handle that kind of pleasure. Your thighs are shaking, and something in your stomach grows tighter and tighter by each flick of his tongue against your clit.

“I’m coming” you cry out breathlessly “fuck I’m coming”

And you do. Hard. He keeps kissing and touching you through it; both grounding you and dragging out the intense sensation. 

His hands, now familiar with your thighs, make their way up to the soft swell of your breasts, as you struggle to regain your breath. He’s cupping them in his hands, pinching your nipples in between his fingers, kissing them with ferveor. Hungry hands move over your breasts, your stomach, your face; cupping it so that he can kiss you with the sort of yearning that comes from years of unanswered desire. 

Your hands move over his body as well, moving over his abdomen chest and arms, defined from long hours of hard work. You kiss his throat and collarbones, kissing at the skin; licking, sucking and biting until you hear guttural moans coming from his throat. His lips are slightly parted, and his glossy dark eyes are fixed on your face; his fingers loosely tangled in your hair. 

He presses you down onto the mattress again, until he’s face to face; his arms on each side of your face, holding himself over you.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse, panting slightly. 

“I want this” you answer him, voice low but clear, “I really, really want this Tom”

He smiles, breathing out the breath he’d been holding and moves away from you, reaching for the side of his bed and to take out a condom from the drawer. 

He places a quick kiss to your lips, your cheek, your belly button, before he sits up. He removes his underwear and you can feel your face heat up again. Because this is Tom, your Tom, whom you’ve been in love with for half your life. But being with him, both naked as the day you were born, feels right. You know everything about this man, all his preferences and secrets; his favourite movie and how he likes his food and why he skipped class every day for a month in year nine. And he knows everything about you. It feels right that he should know this as well; know each curve of your body and the way you like to be kissed and what has you moaning and begging for more. 

He unwraps the foil package and puts the condom on with firm fingers. Leaning over you again he lines up against your opening. His eyes glossy with lust, damp hair falling over his face; his mouth swollen and wet from kissing you.

Then with a sharp thrust and a groan he’s inside you. 

All coherent thoughts go out the window as he starts moving in and out of you. The only thing that exists is his strong, sweaty body above you, moving in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts. He’s so hard where you are soft and you can’t stop touching him, dragging your fingers over his back, pulling at his hair, kissing his arms. It’s like the wires in your brain have crossed, sending out sparks of pure pleasure in your body. 

He hits a particularly tender spot inside you and the groan that leaves you is almost animalistic.

Tom nearly halters in his pace, before collecting himself again. “Fuck” he moans out, kissing your neck. His movements become more frenzied and you roll your hips under him, meeting his movements; trying to get him deeper inside you. 

He pushes himself up onto his hands, pulls back slightly; and pushes in. Starting to really fuck you. 

You can’t stop looking up at him; naked body damp with sweat, muscles moving as he works; arms flexed and cheeks flushed. His eyes are closed pleasure now. Your hands are on his hips helping him set the pace as he fucks into you with fast, hard thrusts. Without warning you clutch around him in pleasure and he groans loudly.

“How the fuck does your cunt feel better than it tastes?” he asks, panting for air. “

He presses a hand over your heart, letting it rest there. You wonder if he can feel it pounding for him. You feel like you’re dissolving into a thousand tiny pieces as you come around him with a choked scream. 

He’s so close and you can practically feel it; aching for him to have it. You want him to come; in you, on you, over you. 

And then he does, his brows furrows; like the pleasure is so intense it hurts him. The sounds he makes when he comes are guttural; almost whimpering. 

As he falls down on the bed beside you he pulls you close, has you pressed against his body, an arm firmly wrapped around you. The sun has set now, but the ocean waves still crash onto the shore, the sound of it the only thing to fill the silence part from your laboured breathing; the music having gone quiet in the other room. 

Neither one of you say anything. You knew the end to this when he kissed you. You’ve regretted nothing that has happened here, and you know that he doesn’t either; but tomorrow you are leaving to drive all the way across the country and he cannot follow. You don’t know what will happen now, and he doesn't have the answer to that either. And so you just let him hold you; wishing with all your might that you could stop the morning from coming.

***

Please let me know your thoughts, genuinely don’t know what to make of this one. 

[amymel86]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @vivilove-jonsa !!! A little Vampire!Sansa and Vampire Hunter!Jon for you...

Day 1

Sansa hisses at the man who holds her captive. She cannot remember a time in which she has been so maddeningly angry.

His solemn face betrays nothing and the layers of spells cast in this little bedroom is making it hard to read the thoughts of his mind – not that Sansa ever had perfectly crystal clear clarity on that ability anyway. It was more like snatches of information, radio stations tuning in and out. Either way, what with how so vehemently enraged she is feeling right now, Sansa doubts she could read his driver’s license let alone his mind – all she sees is him... and all the ways she’s going to kill him.

Once she gets out from under these silver chains he has at her wrists.

“Let me go and I won’t hurt you,” she demands, trying not to move where she lays, arms bound above her head.

The man’s grey gaze flickers up to her bindings. “We both know that’s a lie.”

He doesn’t underestimate her then. And he knows far too much about what she is for Sansa to feel any semblance of comfort in his presence. She tugs her arms, wincing at the pain when the silver sears her skin.

“If you don’t move, it won’t hurt,” her captor offers. “That’s why I put the bandages on your wrists.” He nods his head to where she is bound.

“Oh, fuck off!” In her days as a human woman, Sansa never would have dreamt of using such profanity, but she’s heard enough modern girls using filthy language on her television box to know that it is not so frowned upon today. Besides, it felt right... for this situation at least.

Her captor raises his brow and somehow Sansa feels like this should make her blush – if she could blush.

“What do you want with me anyway?”

“I hunt your kind.”

This makes her scoff. Her left wrist moves causing the chain to come into more contact with her skin. She hisses and whimpers, trying to catch her breath. The man – the hunter – he steps into the room now, where he had been looming in the doorway. Reaching over her, he fixes the silver so that it rests securely on the bandages, saving her from further wounds. Her flesh begins to heal, to knit back together until there is barely a scar left behind to tell a story.

Her hunter is still leaning over her. She could try to surge up against her bindings, lunge at his throat. But it would hurt – it would hurt a lot. Besides, she’d still be bound to this bed.

Sansa can feel her fangs slowly protract against her better judgement.

“Vampyre hunters kill my kind.”

The man grunts and straightens. Staring at her a little while longer, his gaze begins to drop down her body before it snaps back up to her face. “How is it that you select the ones you feed on?” he asks, ignoring her statement. “And the ones you completely drain – the ones you kill – they’re all...”

He’s searching for the right label.

“Bad men,” Sansa offers, raising a brow of her own.

Her hunter snorts. “A vigilante vampire? That’s a new one on me.”

“Why don’t you let me go and I’ll show you how it works.”

His gaze is intense for a moment or two as he maps out her face before turning, leaving her with a quiet chuckle.

 Day 4

“I’m not feeding on that.”

Her captive looks down at the bag of blood he holds in his hand. “Do you want to starve?”

“Do you actually care if I starve?”

He huffs and leaves the room.

 Day 5

She is in a half state of dozing when he enters the room this time, roused by his agitated tone.

“Alright, look. Just drink the fucking blood, ok? If it’s the wrong blood group, I can get a different one, but can you just-”

“It doesn’t matter what group it is, idiot,” Sansa says, shifting on the bed, uncomfortable. “It’s of no use to me if there’s no life in it.”

“No life in it?”

She nods. “If it’s not coming from the source then I might as well be drinking red food colouring for all the good it’ll do. I need lifeblood to sustain me.” The hand holding the bag of blood slowly lowers as her captive’s jaw clenches in discomfort. “Don’t you know anything, oh mighty vampire hunter?”

“Our training centres around killing, not sustaining your kind,” he says, irritated, almost spitting those last two words.

“Then why haven’t you? Why am I still here? Why are you trying to feed me?”

“I-”

He shakes his head and leaves.

When he comes back, much later, he’s dressed in only his undergarments and his hair is wild and messy. He wears eyeglasses on his troubled face. If he was not her captor Sansa could quite easily imagine herself deciding the sight of him was quite becoming really.

But he is.

So she won’t.

“Alright, don’t try anything,” he warns, coming nearer. He looks at her, assessing. His chest is moving up and down with every breath. Reaching up behind his neck, he unclasps a silver chain that he wears, making sure she sees what he holds and the threat hanging in each link of that necklace. Wetting his lips, her hunter juts out his wrist so that it’s offered right in front of her face. “Feed,” he says, the other hand gripping the silver chain. “But don’t take too much.”

She wants to refuse but she hasn’t fed in over a month.

His skin smells like sweat and bourbon – a hint of a spicy cologne. Sansa licks at his wrist. She’s so, so hungry. Their eyes remain on each other and her captor’s lips part as she continues to lap at her chosen patch of skin.

She can smell his arousal. His undergarments are beginning to tent.

“I- what are-”

“Shhhh,” Sansa coos. “This will stop the bite from hurting and make it heal faster.” He looks mesmerised. “You know, the best way to do this is while making love. Humans say it’s euphoric. Wouldn’t it be so sweet to be completely wrapped up in one another, writhing in ecstasy? Why don’t you...” Sansa tugs slightly on the chains at her wrists, making the suggestion.

Her captor swallows and blinks. “Stop it,” he says, though his voice is quiet and hoarse. “I know how your kind like to tempt your victims so just stop it and feed.”

Sansa huffs from her nose. “Suit yourself,” she says, returning to licking at his wrist.

He hardly flinches when her fangs pierce his skin, but the moan he lets slip when she begins to suck sends tingles all over her body.

 Day 6

“Is it uncomfortable?” His eyes focus where her wrists rest above her head.

“What do you think?”

A nod of his head and he leaves. Sansa can hear his apartment door close, the lock clicking into place after him. There is no sunlight trying to streak through the blinds when he returns.

“Ok,” he says, standing beside the bed, though Sansa suspects he’s talking to himself in reality. He scratches at his head, turns to walk away only to return.

“Decided to kill me now?”

He actually does walk out of the room then, only to spin at the doorway to face her. “I should kill you. I should’ve fucking killed you a week ago. My superiors think that I have. It’s what I was ordered to do.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“I-” His hand raises to absentmindedly rub at the back of his neck. “I don’t fucking know. I just...” His mind seems to change track and he’s striding into the bedroom again. “Ok, I have this-“ he fishes an item out of his pocket and holds it out for her inspection. Sansa hisses instantly, the object making her feel queasy. He pockets it again.

“What is that?!” She’s never experience anything like it but she could barely stand to look at it.

“It’s a talisman, a seven-pointed-star with a bloodstone in the centre that’s been blessed numerous times by some holy-man in Asshai or some such shit, I don’t know. All I know is that it’s never left HQ since it arrived and it’s meant to ward off your kind.” He stands there, assessing her once more.

Fuck, her head hurt.

“Seems to me that it works,” he says. “Now, if I untie you, you shouldn’t be able to touch me so long as I have this talisman on my person, and if I hang it above a doorway, you shouldn’t be able to cross that either.”

“Just get on with it and get that fucking thing away from me!”

Her captor takes a deep breath before beginning to make quick work of her bindings. “Right, right, sorry.”

 Day 7

His stupid talisman hangs above her open prison cell doorway. Try as she may, she cannot go through.

At least she’s no longer tied to the bed.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really plan it.”

Sansa scoffs. “That’s evident.”

Her captor scowls at her over his folding computer thing.

Pacing the little room back and forth, Sansa comes to a stop as close to the open doorway as she dares. “What is your name anyway?”

His mouth twitches before he answers. “Jon,” he tells her. “Jon Snow.... and you are Alayne Stone, though you changed your name to this after you were turned. Your human name was Sansa Stark.”

Her hands had been on her hips.

They fall now.

“How do you know that?” She hasn’t heard someone say her real name in over a century. She feels light headed.

Her captor – Jon – Jon Snow – shrugs a shoulder and taps on his computer thing. I was assigned to exterminate you. I have your files. The human name wasn’t in there but I did some digging, found out what I could which lead me to a bunch of stuff about Winterfell, and then when I came across this old family photograph from a Northern genealogy site, it was easy to put two and two together.” He swivels his screen around to show her.

Their faces.

A sob leaves her throat.

 Day 8

“You really can let me go now, Jon. I won’t hurt you.”

He looks pained. “I... I want to believe you but-“

“But?”

“But I know what you are.”

Sansa feels her lip curl. Maybe she would hurt him. A little.

“Besides, as far as my superiors know, you’re already exterminated. If they catch wind that I let you go –“

“How will they know? I’ll be out of the city before anyone knows it.”

“The Organisation is everywhere, Sansa. They’ll know.”

Huffing, Sansa shakes her head. “So you’ll get a tap on the wrists and-“

“Oh it’ll be more than that-“

As if the universe was trying to prove his point, an almighty crash made Jon spring up from his place on the couch. Somehow, he had a gun already in his hand. “Rast,” he says, his jaw clenching. “If you wanted to come hang out, this isn’t the polite way of going about it. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

The man who had broken down Jon’s door has an answering gun in clutched in his fist as he steps over the threshold. He grunts at Jon’s humour before laying eyes on Sansa in the doorway of his spare bedroom. A rancid grin stretches across his face. “I fucking knew it. I knew you were up to something. Old Mormont said you wouldn’t pull any tricks on us like that but I fucking knew! First I see you comin’ outta that blood bank lookin’ all shady, then the Shielding Star goes missing from HQ, then that fat piggy, Tarly says you’ve been interested in readin’ some of his old dusty books on fangers. I just knew you were up to no good and lookee here.” He flicks the barrel of his gun towards Sansa. At that, Jon starts to shift, moving to put himself between Sansa and his unwanted guest. Rast lets out a horrid chuckle. “Whatchu been doin? Fucking ‘em before you off ‘em?” Sansa hisses, her fangs jutting out sharply. Rast laughs. “Mind you, I wouldn’t mind a go on this one before you stake ‘er. She looks a feisty sort. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this myself.”

“Rast,” Jon warns.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like sharing?” he laughs darkly. “Aw, that’s too bad, Snow, it really is.”

BANG!

Jon’s body jolts back and a grunt leaves him before he falls to the ground.

“Jon!” Sansa cries.

“Looks like you won’t be having a say in it anyhow,” Rast says, grinning. He walks over and kicks Jon in the shoulder making him roll onto his back.

His shirt is rapidly getting soaked in a bloom of wet crimson. Rast puts his boot on Jon’s wrist, pinning the hand holding the gun to the floor. Jon looks over at her, wheezing and coughing up more lifeblood. She feels helpless. He’s going to die.

Turning his wrist as much as he can, Jon takes aim in her direction.

BANG!

Something shatters above the doorway to her little prison cell bedroom and as soon as Sansa can feel it – that sense of freedom - she knows he’s destroyed and dislodged that fucking talisman.

She feels alive.

Before Rast can even fucking blink she leaps onto his back and snaps his neck. His body falls like a sack of potatoes.

She’s in a state of triumph that crashes rather quickly when she hears Jon coughing and gurgling on the floor beside her. When she kneels down, she can see his life leaving, that light in his grey eyes starting to ebb away. He laughs a little though it seems to pain him. “You lot always were so fucking fast.” He struggles to swallow without spluttering. “I’m sorry, Sansa.”

“No, no, no.”

He’s gone.

“No, no, no.”

She cradles him now, feeling grief for the first time in years and years. Looking around, panicked, Sansa’s not sure what she’s looking for.

She knows what she’s going to do – even though she swore to herself she would never.

Biting down hard on the fleshy pad of her palm, Sansa squeezes and squeezes until her own blood begins to drip and dribble from the wound. She reaches for his mouth, praying to Gods she does not believe in that this will work.

Fuck, what if this does work?

Five, ten minutes pass when a wounded sounding groan comes from Jon’s throat taking Sansa by surprise. A shocked sort of laugh escapes her and she opens her wound with another bite, squeezing harder over his mouth. “Come on, moron, drink,” she says, chuckling. He begins sucking sleepily like a babe.

Lifting his bloody shirt, Sansa can see the wound on his chest mending, his new body pushing out the bullet before it completely seals over anew.

That should be enough. His body is already changing. She should leave. He’ll need to sleep for a few hours before he can fully awaken in his new form and she should get herself miles and miles away from here. Besides, that’s what happened to her when she was turned – she woke up alone and very confused.

She should go.

She really should.

Sansa strokes Jon’s hair, the bitemark on her hand now fully healed as she pulls away from his mouth.

... so what’s making her stay?

[pleasantanathema]

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations 

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

        Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

        A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

        There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around. 

        You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

        He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

        “What are we here for?”

        He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

        “You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

        “Then why bring me?”

        “Because you need to see it.”

        You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

        You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

        Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

        He always was so careless.

        He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

        Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission. 

        How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

        A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

        “Are you alright?”

        For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

        “That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

        Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

        “Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

        “Have I ever been?”

        You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough. 

        Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

        Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

        “I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

        “Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.” 

        “Could I?”

        You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

        “If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

        He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

        “For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

        “So I’ve noticed.”

        You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

        It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers. 

        A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

        “Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

        He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

        “You don’t recognize him?”

        Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

        “You know I do.”

        Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm. 

        Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

        “Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

        Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

        “It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

        “Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

        “I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

        “But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

        You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

        “I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

        That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

        “I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

        “Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly. 

        You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now. 

         He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale. 

         He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life. 

         But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

         He was tired of wishing for death.

         Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance. 

         You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

         “I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

         “Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

         “You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?” 

         “I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.” 

         He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

         “That’s not…I have something else for you.”

         He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

         This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

         He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

         At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

         He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

         Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

         Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

         He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again. 

         “Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

         Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything. 

         This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it. 

         “These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.” 

         You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

         He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake. 

         You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

         He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

         Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

         There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

         This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

         “I fucking knew it.”

         He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

         “Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

         He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

         “What. Did. You. Do?” 

         Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

         “What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

         “There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

         “There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

         Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers. 

         You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

         You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

         And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

         Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

         But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

         “Tell me why.”

         Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

         When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

         “He overheard us—”

         “Overheard what?”

         You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

         “Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

         “That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

         One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

         “He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

         You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

         Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

         “Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much. 

         “Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

         “I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

         He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

         “Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

         “You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

         You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

         His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again. 

         “Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

         But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

         “We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

         He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

         Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you. 

         With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

         “Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

         You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

         It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too. 

         You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

         You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

         “I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

         “I know.”

         “And I’ll never forgive you.”

         It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

         “Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

         His lips met yours with a bruising fervor. 

         The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

         Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation. 

         His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm. 

         It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

         When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

         There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

         His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

         “I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

          “I know.”

Next Chapter

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 11: Date Night

…in which Ezi’s first date gets interfered.

Word count: 2.5k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: sorry this chapter is so short. I was emotionally unstable when I wrote this last week :D I'll try to write more for the next one.

Also, please follow my writing account on Instagram: @allie.writes :) Don't forget to leave comments on this chapter!

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“Hey, do you remember Dolores?” Dawson asked.

“How could I forget?” Ezili murmured, eyeing her sister up and down.

Of course Ezi remembered Dolores. She couldn’t if she tried. Whenever she looked at Koa, all she saw was what she could never be, what her mother wished that she was, and it only made her despise herself. When she’d first arrived here, she had felt so out of place, but at the same time, free. She still revisited her old life in her sleep, which made her wake up screaming during the night. And despite all the struggles she’d gone through, she felt appreciated. Harry wasn’t anywhere near great, but he wasn’t bad. He looked out for her even though she wasn’t his kind. And she knew if her mother knew she felt this way about a human, she would not be standing here.

But why was she thinking about Harry? He wasn’t here. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked around as the vibrant atmosphere of the night market drowned out her thoughts. Her sister came forward and pulled her into a hug. She could feel Koa’s claws leaving marks on her shoulders, but she knew it was just her imagination.

Koa withdrew with a smile and lifted those perfect human hands with short blunt nails and twisted her hair into a bun. She looked so human, so natural. Ezili wondered how Koa it, but then she caught a glimpse of the trident hanging on a chain around her neck. She’d been using magic.

Immediately, Ezili grabbed Dawson’s hand and pulled him to her side. Koa tilted her head, looking quite confused, which Ezili knew was all an act. Meanwhile, Dawson was blushing. He cleared his throat. “So...Dolores is also here for the book fair. Mind if she joins us?”

“Not at all,” Ezili said with a tight smile.

“Great!” Koa said, hands clasped against her chest.

Ezili tried to figure out what her sister’s intentions were. Was she here to kill Ezili? Was she here to kill Harry? What if she thought Dawson was Ezili’s new target and was here to kill him? Also, how many humans had she killed for her to be here, dressed, act, and talk like a real human girl?

Ezili walked beside Koa as the girl went on and on about how she’d just moved to London, and all the places she’d visited and enjoyed. She must have got all this information from the magic of the trident. She couldn’t be more human than Ezili, who’d had to learn everything by herself.

“Harry?”

Ezili’s heart gave a lurch when she spotted his face in the crowd. It started with a feeling of comfort, like finding a warm bed in the middle of the raging ocean. But then a tidal wave of anxiety crashed down upon her, and she momentarily forgot about Dawson and her sister. She rushed toward him, pushing past a group of tourists and teenagers who cursed at her.

“There you are!” Harry said, spreading his arms. “My favourite fish.”

“What are you doing here?” she hissed and tugged hard at his sleeve. “Why did you follow me here?”

“I didn’t follow you here.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not,” Harry sighed and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he looked around. “Where’s Dawson anyway? Why are you standing here all by yourself?”

Ezili had no time for his questions. “Harry, go home.”

“I’m here to buy books!”

“Oh, yeah? What books?”

“This one,” he said, grabbing a random book from a display shelf they were in front of.

“The Sex Life of Pets?”

“Oh.” His smile dropped as he read the title. “I mean, it does look kinda interesting.”

“Harry, go home. I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are. Dawson left you here all by yourself.”

“He’s taking care of something,” Ezili said anxiously as she put her arms around herself and rubbed. The air was getting cold. She hadn’t had to feel the cold when she’d been a siren. She hated how weak humans were. A slight change of the weather could get them all messed up.

She was about to tell Harry to go home right now because her sister was here, and Dawson might be in danger. Ezili’s job here was to kill one of these men, not save them every single time. But to her surprise, Harry took off his coat and put it around her shoulders. “Come home with me,” he said, gently. “If you stay here, you might get lost among all these tourists.”

“No, you go home,” she said, pushing his shoulder, but he didn’t budge. “It’s not safe here for you.”

“How?” he chuckled. “I know London like the back of my hand.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Ezili, you’re acting stran—” Harry was about to finish his sentence when his smile vanished. He pointed over Ezili’s shoulder. “Is that Dawson talking to your sister?”

Ezili whirled around, relieved to find Dawson still alive, but the grin her sister gave her while Dawson was talking to a seller made her uneasy.

“Harry, go home,” she snapped at Harry, shoved him hard so he stumbled back. If something happened, she could only save one of them, and she knew for a fact it would be Harry.

“I’m not going home and leaving you here—”

“And I won’t save you if my sister does something again. I’ll save Dawson, and you don’t want to die, do you?”

At first, she thought those words were all harmless, until she saw the way Harry’s smile dropped, and his shoulders slumped. He said nothing, only nodded. Koa and Dawson were heading towards them now. It was too risky to have Harry here.

“Go!” she shouted and pushed him hard. He didn’t joke about it or react, just held her gaze for a moment and walked away.

“Is that Harry? Harry!”

“He’s leaving, Dawson,” Ezili said and turned to her sister. “Could you come with me to the restroom?”

“Yeah, sure!” Koa happily said, then waved at a puzzled Dawson as she got dragged away.

“What are you trying to do?” Ezili asked in Séren when they were far enough from Dawson, but not too far; she still needed to keep an eye on him just in case.

“Nothing,” Koa answered in their mother tongue. “Although Pretty Boy over there looks quite delicious.”

“Stop it!” Ezili snapped. “You’ve been breaking so many rules around here. You’re not allowed to use the magic of the trident for personal gains.”

“Mother entrusted me with it,” Koa mused.

“I’m sure she’d be happy to know what you’d used it for,” Ezili said, disgusted.

Koa’s dark pink lips curled to the side. “You’re jealous,” she said, leaning back, arms crossed.

Ezili had no time for this. “Please go home,” she told her sister. “I have things under control here. I’ll return in a year with the heart.”

“But you don’t have a whole year,” Koa said. “One year could be a lifetime for these creatures. Humans are fickle. They can stay married for twenty years and still can’t love each other.”

Ezili scoffed, eyebrows raised. “Does the trident tell you that?”

“No, Dolores did,” Koa said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger innocently as if she weren’t talking about someone she’d murdered for no reason. “She hated her husband,” she went on. “I heard her talking on the phone with someone about how she had never loved him, and they had two grown children together. Can you believe it? These creatures made up the thing called ‘marriage’ - a lifetime commitment, which they could not keep up with themselves. And as much as your pretty head wants to see the good in these filthy creatures. They are far from good. Not only do they harm other living things, they also harm their own kind. Physically and emotionally.” Koa put her hand on Ezili’s shoulder and squeezed. “That boy you’re so attached to is no different, Ezili. He will never love you.”

Ezili bit her lip and brushed her sister’s hand off of her. “Don’t tell me about humans when I’ve been here for longer than you do.”

“And yet,” Koa said, “you’re still here.”

Ezili wanted to tell Koa she was wrong for doubting Ezili, but Koa wasn’t wrong. Recently, Ezili had been doubting herself, too. She had even considered switching her target from Harry to Dawson, but she could not feel the same connection she’d had with Harry.

“I have an offer for you, Ezili,” Koa’s voice dragged her out of her own thoughts. She blinked at her sister. “Before your birthday, which was supposed to be your coronation day, you may come back to the Queendom. You’ll tell Mother that you cannot accomplish the mission and ask her to make me Queen of the Seven Seas. Then we’ll have a new Queen as planned. Our evil aunt can’t plot against the throne. And when I’m Queen, I’ll make sure you won’t be banished. You’ll get to keep your title as a princess and stay in the castle.”

Ezili hated that she wasted a second to actually consider the offer. “No. I won’t do it,” she spat, stepping back. “If I accepted this offer, no one and nothing in the ocean world would take me seriously. I would become an outcast anyway.”

Koa rolled her eyes and laughed heartily. “At least you’ll still be protected by the army and you’ll have a family. Or would you rather join the mermaids collecting gold all day for your sad little collection? Also, I’m sure the white sharks would love an abandoned siren.”

“I’m going to be Queen,” Ezili said through clenched teeth. “I’m bringing Mother the heart no matter what. Now you go home and tell her just that. And be careful with my trident that you wore around your little breakable neck.”

Koa opened her mouth to speak, but Ezili didn’t give her a chance. She put up a hand and shouted, “Dawson, let’s go! Dolores is just about to leave.”

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Ezili didn’t know what time she arrived home. She tried not to think about her sister’s words, which had clearly been for the purpose of making her doubt herself. She still hoped Dawson had had a great time tonight. They’d bought some books after she’d got rid of Koa, then stopped at a restaurant on the way back to Harry’s mansion. She’d apologised when he’d dropped her off for not being quite herself tonight, and she hated how he’d cheerfully said, “It was nothing. No worries.” Why did humans lie about how they felt all the time? If something bothered you or made you uncomfortable, why not just say it? Why did they feel the need to complicate things? It was hard enough for her to understand human emotions, and they expected her to be able to guess?

“Hey,” Harry said when their eyes met and she froze in the doorway. She’d expected him to be sleeping right now. “You look clean. Guess your sister didn’t kill Dawson?”

Ezili narrowed her eyes at him and kicked off her shoes. “No. Nothing bad happened.”

“Oh, man. I was hoping he was dead.”

“Shut up,” she said. “Also, I don’t think my sister will ever bother us again.” That, she wasn’t sure. She just wanted to be reassured even if it was by her own words.

Harry got up, hands slipped into his pockets. “Sooo...how was your date?”

Ezili pretended she hadn’t heard that question. “Why are you still up?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Had too much coffee earlier.” Then repeated, “How was your date?”

“It was fine,” Ezili said. "Why did you show up?"

"I was just making sure you wouldn't cause any trouble? Your name is tied to mine now, in case you've forgotten."

"How can I? You literally remind me of our fake relationship every two seconds."

“Why are you so pissed off?”

“I’m not.”

“You clearly are,” he persisted.

She let out a sigh, about to just go upstairs and ignore him for the rest of the night, but this one question kept tugging at her. So she had to ask.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Harry looked confused for a second. “No. Never. I think I’ve told you about what happened with my exes.”

“But did you love them at one point?”

“Well, I thought I loved them,” he said. “But looking back now, I don’t think I know what love is. It’s just...a lot of times, I want to be alone. Just me and Chilli. If someone enters my life and stays around for too long, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“But I’m also living here. We see each other all the time.”

“It’s not like I have a choice to kick you out,” he said, then instantly looked regretful.

Ezili padded across the room and stopped in front of him. “Why would anybody want to be alone?” She knew she didn’t. She was doing all this just to be accepted by her kind, but he, who had everything from fame and wealth to a supportive family, wanted to be left alone?

“You’re not the first girl to ask me that,” he said with a grin. “I think it has a lot to do with how I was brought up. I feel like everyone has these certain expectations for me, and when I don’t meet those expectations, I disappoint them. I just want to be by myself so I can just be me. I don’t want to adjust myself to the presence of others.”

Ezili nodded then moved a bit closer.

“What are you--”

She surprised him by placing her palm on the left side of his chest. Her skin tingled with the sensation of his little unsteady heartbeats when she came near. “But there’s nothing here,” she mumbled as if it would make sense to him. “You were telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?” Harry let out a nervous laugh and reached for her hand, which she withdrew before he could touch.

“Nothing.”

Harry’s smile faded. “Did Dawson say anything about me?”

“No. We hardly talked about you.”

“What about your sister? Why is she here?” he kept asking when she brushed past him and headed for the stairs. “Does your mother want you back? Ezi, what happened tonight?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m just tired. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Ezi,” he said, his voice soft and pleading as if he could love her for a moment. But how could he? How could a man, who had lived his whole life without falling in love and prided himself on his loneliness, ever fall in love with a siren? He’d said he’d wanted to kiss her again, but there he’d stood in front of her and claimed her presence in this house made him uncomfortable. Then when her hand had been on his heart, she had felt nothing.

So had he lied about it? Humans lied about how they felt all the time. If they could lie about wanting to spend the rest of their life with one person, they could lie about wanting to kiss a siren.

Maybe, just maybe, Ezili should consider her sister’s offer.

[wonder-womans-ex]

Conversations, Conversations, in the Early Morning Glow

Of all the things James was expecting to see today, Sirius Black sitting on his couch at five-thirty in the morning was certainly not one of them. 

He had been prepared to get up early, make some coffee and maybe an omelette, and head out for a quick jog before practice. But when he turned on the light, there Sirius was, one leg propped up over his knee, fingers drumming nervously on the sole of his shoe. 

Sirius looked up. They stared at each other for a moment, and then James took off his glasses and put them back on again. “Hello,” he said. 

Sirius bothered with none of the preamble. “How do you tell someone you’re in love with them?” 

“What the fuck?”

“I’m in love with someone and I want to tell them so, but I don’t know how.”

After taking a moment to process this information, James walked over to the kitchen. “I need caffeine for this conversation,” he said, glancing backward over his shoulder. “Want a coffee?”

“I—yeah. Sure. No sugar—”

“Lots of milk. I know.” 

They grinned at each other, but Sirius’s smile was slightly… off. There was something tense about it, almost like he was holding back. 

The coffee machine whirred quietly to life, red light blinking on, and James grabbed two mugs from the cupboard: the WORLD’S BEST DAD one Kuny had given him after Harry’s birth, and the one with the rubber ducks Sirius always used. He filled the kettle with water, flipped the switch on the side, and finally spun around to face his friend. 

Sirius had hopped up to sit on the counter and was swinging his legs slightly, bumping them in turns against the dishwasher; his gaze was focused somewhere on the floor in front of him. James paused for a moment before walking over and sitting beside him. “If Lily catches us, we’re both toast,” he said, finally, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of Sirius’s lips twitched up only slightly, and that was when James knew something was truly bothering him. 

“So.” The two of them took a breath almost in unison. “I’m going to need some backstory here. Are you in a relationship with this person? Are you merely admiring from afar?”

“In a relationship.”

No matter what he had asked, James had assumed Sirius was merely harbouring a crush. He’d thought that surely, if Sirius was dating someone, he’d say something about it. “You have a girlfriend? And you didn’t tell me?” 

“That’s the other thing.” A pause, like he was working up the courage to say something. “I’m gay, James.”

For the second time that morning, James took a moment to process this. He arranged his face—or tried to, anyway—into an expression that less resembled someone who had recently run into a brick wall, and then he put a reassuring hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “You have a boyfriend? And you didn’t tell me?”

The look of relief Sirius gave him was both immense and immediate. “Well, it’s pretty recent. Only a few months, really—since my birthday—and… I was scared. I’m still scared, but not as much as I was. But I love him. I really, really love him, and I want him to know that.”

Nodding, James slid forward off the counter to pour the now-boiling water into the top of the coffee machine. “Is it anyone I know? Is he from Gryffindor?”

“Yeah, you know him. It’s—well, it’s Loops.”

“Remus?” James jerked his hand backwards, away from the spill of hot water from the kettle. He hissed in pain when a drop landed on his wrist. “Remus Lupin? Our PT?” 

“One and the same.” Even without looking, he could hear the smile in Sirius’s voice. 

“And you want to tell him you love him?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you came to me for advice?” 

Sirius leaned over and smacked his arm. “I can’t tell whether you’re insulting yourself or me more.” 

“Shut up. But in all ser—sincerity… does he love you, too?”

“I think so,” Sirius said, biting his lip. “I hope he does, anyway. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.” 

James whistled quietly, not wanting to risk waking Harry. A crying child was the last thing either of them needed. “God, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” 

“Yeah.”

“Look.” James crossed his arms, staring Sirius right in the eyes. “I’m only going to say this once. You are my best friend. You are the third most important person in my life, falling just behind my wife-to-be and my son. If I had to pick one person to be stranded with on a deserted island, the only reason I would not choose you is that I think we would die within a week because neither of us actually has that much common sense. That being said, there are very few situations in which I would not trust you with my life. In the words of the youth, you are my bro.”

“Why is this starting to sound like a marriage proposal?”

“Fuck off. The point is, Pads, you deserve the best of the best. You deserve someone you love and who loves you. If that’s Loops, that’s amazing and I support you. If it ends up not being him, I’ll be here for you, and I’ll make sure any future boyfriends you may have don’t break your heart. Got that?”

For a moment, Sirius said nothing, and James grew more and more worried by the second. “Cap? You okay?” 

“No, I’m not okay, you fucker; I’m crying.”

“I hope they’re happy tears.” 

“What do you think?” Swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, Sirius let a grin spread across his face. “Are we supposed to bro hug now?” 

“You know what; why not.” Even just two years ago, they would have put their arms around each other nervously before awkwardly pulling away again (hell, two years ago Sirius probably wouldn’t have suggested it in the first place), but now they were miles past that, James even rubbing a noogie onto the crown of Sirius’s head. 

“Coffee machine looks like it’s about to overflow.” 

“Oh, thanks.” There was a comfortable silence as James poured out two mugs of coffee and added milk (Sirius’s) and sugar (his own), not broken until Sirius, mug in hand, said quietly, “How do you think I should tell him?” 

“Well, my advice, which is flawed at the best of times, would be to just tell him. But if you were planning on doing that, then chances are you wouldn’t have come to me in the first place.”

“I want it to be… I dunno. Romantic.” Sirius raised his coffee to his lips, taking a sip. “This is the worst coffee I have ever had in my life.”

“Well, duh. For the romantic part, I mean. Not the coffee.”

Laughing under his breath, Sirius poked him. “Try it. It sucks.”

“It does not—oh.”

“Told you so.”

James was halfway through pouring his coffee down the drain when Sirius’s phone rang. Both men froze. 

“Who is it?”

Sirius fished the phone out of his pocket, checking the caller ID. He visibly relaxed at what he saw, swiping up to answer. “It’s Remus,” he whispered. 

It was only thanks to the silence of the house that James could hear the voice on the other end of the line. 

“Baby?” Remus asked. “I’m, uh, I’m at your house—I bused—and, um, your car’s not here.”

“Oh, fuck, is it six already?”

“Yeah.” After a moment, he added, “Where are you?” 

“At the Potters’. I’m with James.”

“Are you okay?”

A smile flickered over Sirius’s face. “Yeah. I’m great. I… I came out to him.” 

James held his breath until—”Oh,” said Remus. 

“Oh? Is that—is that okay? Should I have waited—”

“No, no, of course not,” Remus assured him, the emotion in his voice audible even through the speaker. “I’m just surprised. And I’m proud. God, baby, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me, too.” 

“As you should be. Hey, I’m hugging you right now. You feel that? That’s my arms. And now I’m kissing you. Okay?” 

Sirius actually giggled, a sound James had never heard him make before. “I’m kissing you back.”

James wasn’t sure whether he grabbed the phone to put at least a temporary stop to all the mushiness, or whether his intention stayed the same all along. In any case, the first thing he said after wresting it out of Sirius’s grasp and pressing it to his own ear was “If you hurt my bro, I’ll kill you.”

“Hi, James.”

“Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. But between you and me—and Sirius, I guess, ‘cause he’s probably listening, too—if I ever hurt him, I think I’d die before you even chose your weapon.”

When James glanced over, he saw that Sirius’s eyes were shining.

“Oh,” Remus added. “And please send Cap back over here. He’s not just my boyfriend; he’s my ride to practice.”

“You got it.” He waited until Remus hung up to say, “Hey, Sirius?”

Sirius took the phone when James held it out to him. “Yeah?”

“Get out of my house and go get your man.”

“Oui.” He slid off the countertop, landing on the floor with a slight thud. 

“Oh, and one more thing.” 

“Yeah?”

“What Loops said? Over the phone? If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

He got a grin for that, but he also got an elbow in the ribs as Sirius passed by him. “I’m going to tell him. Today.”

“You do that.” 

“Wish me luck. I’ll see you at practice.” 

“See you,” James said, leaning against the doorframe. “And you’ve already got all the luck you need.”

***

He hadn’t forgotten. He really hadn’t. He’d just had a lot on his mind, and Sirius’s promise of ‘today’ was pushed to the back. But when Cap’s car pulled into the parking lot with Loops in the passenger’s seat, it was brought immediately to the front again. He watched as they shared a warm, private smile, eyes not breaking contact for almost ten seconds. 

As soon as they walked through the arena doors, James was there to ambush them. “Good morning, gentlemen.” 

“Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Well, we are temperamental today.”

“It’s because of your godawful coffee.”

“Touché.” 

Sirius smacked his arm. “I’m serious—and please don’t make that pun. I would like to be left alone with my boyfriend, with whom I am very much in love.”

“All right, all right!” James said, raising his arms in mock surrender. Go make out in the PT room; I won’t stop you.” 

Remus smiled when Sirius turned to him. “Yeah, sure, we can do that later. You go ahead—I need to talk to Pots for a sec.”

“‘Kay. Love ya.”

“Love you, too.”

Waiting until Sirius disappeared down the hallway to speak, Remus pursed his lips, trying to smother a grin. “Thank you,” he said, finally. “That—how accepting you are, I mean—means a lot to him.”

“I know.” 

“No, really. You were the first… you’re the only person he’s told, other than me. Coming out to you—it really goes to show how much more comfortable he is with himself. When we got together… well, he’s really come a long way.” 

James waited for a moment, sorting through the emotions in his head. “The thing is… I made him feel like I wouldn’t be accepting. This morning, when we were talking, he said he was scared. I’m part of the reason he was scared.”

Already, Remus was shaking his head. “He wasn’t scared you wouldn’t be accepting; he was scared of other people finding out. No, not of you telling people. Just that they’d find out.”

“That literally makes no sense.”

“Look, James, the way he grew up—if there’s one thing he learned it’s that if you tell one, you’ve told them all. He came out when he was ready to come out. Maybe not to the world—not yet—but to you.”

He nodded slowly. “I think I’ve got it. Oh—and, Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“He makes you really happy, doesn’t he?” 

“Really happy.” Even without the words, Remus’s grin would have said it all. 

“You make him happy, too. Happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

“Thanks—” 

“Don’t mess it up.” 

Remus laughed. “I should have known. Trust me, though, Pots; I’ve got no intention too.”

That seemed to be that—James made his way to the locker room, catching Sirius’s eyes upon entry and winking. Sirius simply rolled his eyes and walked over, bumping their shoulders together. “What did you guys talk about?”

James didn’t even try to lie. “You, mostly.” 

“Should have guessed.” Glancing away briefly, Sirius lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. “Thanks, by the way.” 

“For what?” 

“Bullying me into telling Loops I love him?”

“Eh, that was mostly you. I just kind of stood there and let you talk at me.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Really, though.” James was only partly joking when he added, “I’ll be here for you again when you want to propose.”

A red flush spread across Sirius’s cheeks. “Maybe not for a while yet,” he said, smiling straight ahead at the jersey hanging in his locker. “But someday.” 

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

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CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

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[wh6res]

taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation 

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life. 

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age. 

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more. 

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else. 

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance. 

assurance that he won’t get hurt. 

an assurance of faithfulness. 

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets. 

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky. 

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that. 

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate. 

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered. 

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump. 

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there. 

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil. 

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter. 

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer. 

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it. 

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company. 

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high. 

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired. 

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan. 

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine. 

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms. 

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!” 

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away. 

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question. 

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway. 

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt. 

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care. 

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…” 

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.” 

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people. 

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off. 

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle. 

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar. 

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you. 

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created. 

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing. 

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face. 

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places. 

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them. 

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?” 

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time. 

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already. 

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine. 

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining. 

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements. 

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort. 

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water. 

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you. 

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore.