#but it WOKE UP about six months ago and the noises started again this time under one of the stairs

[morethanwords229]

my cat is such a good buddy. i was having a lil post-work stress because it has been A Day (it has, in fact, been A Month) and he came over and sat on me and did the calming purring thing they do and he is so warm and cuddly and i love him so much even though he persists in letting live mice loose in my house at 3am so i have to catch them

[thevoidstaredback]

Barry knew something was wrong when he woke up that morning, but he couldn't place what. There was nothing wrong in the house, nor with his family. His team were as normal as they could be, and none of his rogues had gotten out, nor was anyone causing any trouble in Central City. Then, just as he'd gotten off work at the police station, an emergency meeting for the Justice League was called. Ugh, David's gonna be pissed that he has to call out!

The Watchtower, when he got there, was a mess. Heroes were obviously panicking, and there must be magic users on board because there were things flying every which way. The meeting room, however, was somehow worse.

"What the hell is going on?" The Flash demanded after ducking behind a chair.

"Constantine and Deadman are on a warpath!" Aquaman helpfully supplied from where he was hidden behind his own chair.

"I gathered that much," Flash shouted over the noise of a chair being shattered against the wall behind him.

Aquaman scowled at him. "The hell do you want me to say? I don't know what's got them so upset!

The door opened again, announcing Batman's presence. He cleared his throat and the room instantly fell silent. Things kept flying around, but they were much more lax than they had been. Cautiously, the gathered heroes emerged from their makeshift hiding places to sit in their chairs.

"What's this about, Constantine?" the Dark Knight asked once everyone was seated.

Instead of the Brit, the ghost beside him was the one to answer. "You idiots-" he growled, "-have really fucked up this time!" he shouted.

Flash idly noticed that only the heroes operating in America were present. Huh. He had a dream just like this last night!

"Slow down," Wonder Woman tried to placate, "What's going on?"

Now it was Constantine's turn to talk. "The US Government are more aware of magic then any of us-" He clearly meant the JLD. "-are comfortable with. The fact that they somehow hid it until now is baffling."

Since when is the US Gov. aware of anything? Flash quietly wondered.

Deadman, visible to everyone and slightly calmer than before, said, "It's been brought to my attention that your government as been targeting my people." He held up his hand and raised his voice to stop anyone from interrupting him before they could. "They've taken a child."

This time, both the ghost and the occultist allowed the noise to overtake the room. Superman was the one to put a stop to it by directly asking the two, "What do you mean they've taken a child?"

Zatanna, fashionably late, entered the room and clicked on the projector like this entrance had been practiced. If Flash didn't know any better, he would've thought she had practiced it. As the screen lit up, she took place beside her two teammates. "Phantom is a small time hero in a nowhere town in Illinois - at least, it usually sticks to Illinois - called Amity Park. We've been keeping tabs on the place, though Deadman here is the only one to have ever had repeated contact."

On the projector screen was the picture of a child near or in his mid-teens. He wore a black HAZMAT suit with white accents, white knee high boots, and white elbow gloves. His hair was white and his eyes the colour of cartoon radioactivity. He was snarling in the photo, obviously having been taken during a fight, if the ready stance was anything to go by.

When Zatanna moved to the next slide, it was an overshot of a place that was somewhere between being a town and a city. It was big enough that not everyone could possibly hope to know everyone, but small enough that everyone knew someone who knew someone. Based on the experience of several heroes, as well as several different statistics, it didn't look like the kind of place that would have a lot of police needed crime, let alone a dedicated hero.

"Several World Ending events were started and stopped here." Constantine continued, "Remember six months ago, when natural disasters erupted all over the planet? We tracked the epicenter to here. Same as four months ago when three quarters of the planet's population took an impromptu nap."

The slide was changed to show an empty field. "Two months ago," Deadman picked up, "The entire town and everyone in it disappeared off the face of this planet." Again, he waited out the uproar from the Justice League, continuing as though uninterrupted after they'd quieted down. "Three days later, it all reappeared," The picture was replaced by another overshot of the town, but there was a green tint to it. "A week later, I was called back to my home in the I̷͈̋̿̀̚n̶͙̙̲͇̤̪̅͋͘f̶̟̰̬̤̀̉̕i̵͕̫͖͔̟͝n̸̮͙̋̎̆̈́̂̈i̷̬̫̤̱̱̒͌͌t̷͉̪̐̂̿͝è̴̙̊ ̴̪̠͍̞͆̌̀R̵̻͙̺̯͌e̸̫͉̖̙̖͐͆͊͠ȧ̵̭̻̩̙͇̔͜l̴͔̝͒m̸͖̦̟̠̭̥̄̇͆̀s̶̢͉̳̪̦̹̑͠. That is where I offically met young Phantom."

"Why is it green?" Aquaman wondered.

"Were you keeping tabs on the place before or after this all happened?" Batman asked over him.

"Before," Zatanna answered, "An interdimensional rift opened up in the town eleven months and five days ago. A second one opened up in the same town ten months and two days ago."

"Why didn't we know about it?" Flash asked, nothing else joining the pure curiosity in his voice. "This kinda seems like something all of use should've been told about."

The magician shook her head. "Because this is our area of expertise, not yours. None of you could've done anything except make things worse if you knew."

The speedster nodded, accepting the answer easily. He didn't like working with magic. He didn't understand it, and it took way too long to actually start believing in the stuff, but he knew there was no way he'd be useful in situations that relied on magic. Best leave that to the professionals.

"I went to the town to scope things out and met Phantom," Constantine said, the slide changing to show another picture of the young hero. He was hiding in an alley, staring at his hands with something akin to fear in his eyes. "He let me take a look at the rift, explained a few things to me, and then we set up a means of contact, though he only ever talks to Deadman."

"Wait," Robin spoke up from where he was beside Batman, "I know that place!" Batman didn't show any reaction other than turning to look at his protege. Robin, for his part, glided smoothly past the look from his mentor. "Me and the rest of my team passed through there about three months ago. We met the town hero, but it wasn't Phantom."

"What do you mean?" Wonder Woman asked.

"The town's hero is called Red Huntress. She's helped out the Young Justice a few times in the past few months with some supernatural issues. She deals mostly with ghosts, though."

Deadman bristled, obviously not liking something that the boy had said.

"Oh?" Superman asked, "What did she tell you guys?"

"That Phantom's one of her rogues." Robin said, "Apparently, he causes a lot of property damage and doesn't stick around to help with relief efforts. She told us that he also kidnapped the mayor, and has attacked the local high school too many times to count."

"That's a load of shit," Constantine muttered under his breath. Louder, he said, "Phantom has only ever worked to protect his town. Red Huntress didn't show up until two months after he started his work!"

"We wait to act until we have more information," Batman, the paranoid bastard, ordered, "As soon as we know exactly who we can trust and what we're going into, we'll stick to recon."

Deadman slammed his hands on the table. "You're government took a child! This is not the time for recon! This is time to act!"

"Recon." Batman stood. "Robin, I want a report from you about your team's interactions with Red Huntress, as well as a report from herself. Constantine and Zatanna, I want a full report on everything you know about Amity Park and whatever's going on there. Dismissed." Then, he walked out of the room, Robin trailing closely after him.

"Um, Bat?" Fash stood, stopping Batman and Robin in the doorway, they both turned to face him, "Maybe we should hear them out? This sounds serious."

Batman stared at Flash for a moment longer before walking back into the room. He gestured for the three present members of the Justice League Dark to continue.

Deadman had a small look of relief flash over his face. "Your government's been sending ghost hunters to Amity Park for the better part of a year now. They were dead set on catching Phantom, and now they have. We don't know-" He cut himself off. After a few seconds, he disappeared completely. Constantine's and Zatanna's phones both went off. Nearly an entire minute after Deadman disappeared, the alarms in the Watchtower went off.

"Fuck," Flash swore.

Part 2 Part 4

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 9

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n i send in a job application, you get a new chapter. the world continues to go round. (i also got two skz albums for writing my application, and a bonus chan card for walking up to the counter with $150 worth of skz merch in my arms (she was like damn i wonder what group this girl likes the most what a mystery))

previous | masterlist | next

---

At some point in the last two months, you'd become more used to the presence of eight boys than you'd realised.

The thought only makes the quiet air of the studio all the more oppressive as you sit on the floor, legs stretched out before you as you wait for the livestream to load. You'd spent plenty of time in here alone since joining their group, but not as much as you have in the past week, with the boys gone from the moment they woke up to the late hours of the night on schedules and promotions. It was strange to be here for twelve hours or more and not hear a single voice coming through the door, to wander up to the cafeteria for lunch and not see them, or Minseo, or even the other trainees you'd worked with for so many years, your personal rhythms no longer lining up with the regimen of classes and mealtimes and monthly evaluations, which you know are drawing close without even having to check.

Even your home is lonely, the empty rooms echoing with no voice to respond to you. You haven't had your own room since you left Australia all of six years ago. You've never had your own apartment. You're not sure you know what to do with it anymore.

The livestream erupts in a burst of noise and colourful pixels, clarifying slowly into a picture of a stage. You've missed most of the opening performances, not watching the time as you practised. You've seen them all three times this week already; you'll probably see them all again next week as well. And if you said that watching the rookie groups in the earlier stages of the show didn't make you a little bit jealous, you'd be lying, especially this of all weeks.

(If you said that watching the boys perform God's Menu didn't make you a little bit jealous, you'd be lying too, but you won't allow that thought to cross your mind.)

As if summoned by the thought of them, they flash up on the screen, one at a time, and then as a group as the stage begins; senior idols, playing top billing on a weekly show watched by millions, a position you have no business being in. And yet here you are, sitting in their studio and watching their shows and thinking that it should have been you and you've been cheated again.

A shiver that has nothing to do with the music or the sweat that clings to your skin runs down your spine. Were you just being conceited about this whole debut thing; signing this contract to join a senior group, watching other debut groups like you had the right to be out there with them, occupying this private dance studio as if it is your own space, as if you'd earned the right fair and square to leave the darker, shared spaces of the fourth floor rooms, where all the other trainees ground away at their skills with only hope in their future. 

Weren't three missed debuts just three signs that you'd ignored that maybe this wasn't the life promised to you?

Your phone vibrates, a text notification from Minseo covering Felix's face. Your thumb hovers over it, the desire to ask where she is and what she's doing tugging at your breastbone. You let it slide away though; she's been at different schedules all day too, if she is even home yet, and night is drawing on quickly. You're exhausted anyway; you'd probably fall asleep in the first five minutes of a movie, or even midway through a bowl of icecream.

You need to keep practising anyway. That was the key to this debut you'd stolen off of fate; every minute of every day spent in this studio, until you made it or they dropped you. You already know how it feels to look back and see an hour or a day that could have been spent getting better, and you'd hated it; this time, even if you never debuted, no one would say that you didn't try. No one would call you lazy.

(But the wrong look was what they had said, not lazy. Just not pretty enough, just the wrong face in the wrong lineup in front of the wrong man. It was one thing to fail out of merit; it was another to fail because of the way you were born.)

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

[teaandmisanthropy]

We had to say goodbye to Snookums a few weeks ago, on August 16, 2024. These are some of the last pictures I have of him.

He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as a result of (probably) lymphoma and had been losing weight for a couple of months and his digestive system was deteriorating.

He got lots of attention and extra treats at the end of his life, and he lived to the age of fifteen and was a happy, goofy, lazy snugglebug who was full of affection for us and friendly to everybody, including multiple dog acquaintances. He was a devoted, biddable sidekick to the BB (Arwen) (2007-2021) and a wonderful adoptive uncle to Tristana (2020, adopted April 2021-). And despite being a mellow fraidy cat who had always been submissive before, he didn't hesitate to become the senior boss cat and tell off Anubis (who is young and unusually strong and was about half again his size) and actually defended Tristana from Anubis's attempted attacks a few times when he managed to breach containment.

Snookums was my baby, and what you might call my familiar animal or one true cat, from the time we brought him home. He spent three days hiding in a blanket cave in the sauna at our old apartment in Turku and wouldn't eat for over 24 hours, until I finally got him to by feeding him from my hand.

He was afraid of crackling noises and especially plastic bags and loved chasing/ collecting hair elastics and chewing on rubber bands and silicone oven mitts and old wired earbud wires, all of which had to be hidden from him. He loved kisses and his method of kissing was to headbutt you in the head, earning him the nickname "butthead".

He was also the most talkative cat we had ever met when we got him, and used to meet me every time I came home and make a long speech that I referred to as the Kittysburg Address. He purred very loudly and was terrible at cleaning his own claws, which was perhaps partly because he was already missing a couple of the tiny teeth when we got him at age 1.5, but mostly because he was lazy. So he had to have toe gunk cleaned from his claw sheaths basically his whole life and he hated it, but was fundamentally non violent, so the most resistance he ever offered was occasionally squirming in a half hearted escape attempt.

When he was young he also used to wake me up in the middle of the night wanting to play, and I woke up many times back then to find his toys (usually hair bands and silicone oven mitts) in or around the bed. But even when young and irrepressible, Snookums was pretty lazy and spent much more time snoozing and snuggling than the BB, who often ran around bouncing off the walls without him, even though he was her constant companion and playmate.

In later years he got more lazy, as well as becoming more like himself in other ways (snuggly, silly, food-motivated), and he also acquired diabetes, which reduced his energy a lot. But he lived for about six years with his diabetes under control after his diagnosis, and was doing very well recently. The final illness was probably not related to his diabetes.

For many years, actually since he was very young, I used to periodically just start crying while I was holding him in my arms, because I loved him so much. The spectre of losing him someday, even when it was far in the future, was already scaring me. (We got him two years after the death of @waxjism's One True Cat, Lily, so this wasn't out of left field.) Maybe I did some of my grieving in advance. I felt like I didn't have time to grieve right after, but even though the sadness is massive, I have had an easier time adjusting my brain to the new reality than after the loss of past pets. Cornish rexes are very snuggly and affectionate cats and most of them spend a lot of time lying on people's laps, giving out hugs, basically, but Snookums is the only pet I've ever felt was comforting and soothing me just as much with his snuggles as I was soothing him.

[ramcharantitties]

Can i get some reassurance from RRR Ram? Your other women fic broke me. Please 🙏😭

HAGSHSJS My late night thoughts are heartbreaking sorry.

Other Woman part 2

You couldn't sleep. It was freezing. The blanket provided no warmth, no matter how many times you wrapped it around your body and cuddled in. It was about to be six, the sunlight gone two hours ago. You wished winter to go away. Why does winter have to come anyways? You wished it would be summer or fall or spring the whole time, the golden Sun always evident and the clouds white and fuzzy. The green trees or brown leaves swaying, and you didn't have to huddle under heaps of clothes to feel a tad bit warm. You sniffled and coughed, feeling dizzy. A flu in winters, it gives you enough body pain. But there was no more pain in your heart. It has been four months since that... incident. You sneezed, blowing in your small towel. There was no one around to get you any tea or soup, to give warmth.

You won't stop shivering, your teeth clattering. You knew you would settle down in a while, but still it was too cold to even peak your finger out.

Neighbours asked when Ram didn't come home for days. It was easy to lie, "it's something confidential, I don't understand his job" and a fake laugh. For the first few weeks, all you did was cry. You'd fall crying when making lunch, you slept late and woke up later, dark circles prominent. You'd start crying as you bathed, warm tears settling on wet lips. You lost your appetite. You haven't opened your gates, or went out in days, only when the milkman arrived. You went out to the market, once, but you didn't want to be there. You felt uneasy and since then, you secluded yourself to your room. How could your own husband do that? But then the fog settled and the cold mist formed around the leaves. It happened because you weren't enough. Because Ram might be an ideal husband, but your selfishness drove him away. It was better to be alone.

There was a numbness in your heart and the cold brought that numbness in your fingers. Ram knew that cold was your biggest enemy. He'd pamper you by getting you all sorts of hot dishes and never let you out of blankets without proper sweaters and socks on. You never, ever had a flu or cold when Ram was here. There was a special blanket he kept above the cupboard that instantly warmed you, but Ram wasn't here anymore. You pulled your blanket up, your only source of warmth.

You weren't sure if you heard the gate creaking. It was locked from inside, so anyone with a key can open it. Since there were only two keys, one with Ram, it must be the cold wind. Even thinking about it made you shiver.

The cold wouldn't go away, but there was nothing you could do. Losing the battle, you surrendered to the only blankets you had over. Until you hear the plastic and zipping noises in the room. You shot straight up, only to see him, opening the plastic cover that held his special blanket.

All the shivering left your body, as you zoomed out of your blankets. You pulled the sweater closer. "What are you doing here?" You kept your distance, hugging yourself closer. Ram left the packet on the bed, his fingers ghosting the cover. He stared at you, up and down. "You've gotten thinner."

Your jaw dropped at his statement. There are things more important right now. "Ramaraju, what are you doing here?" You asked again. Ram physically winced at his full name being taken, especially by you. Ram continued unzipping the blanket, and pulled the heavy cloth out. You stared at him in disbelief. A cheater can't come home and act like nothing happened.

"Y/n I came to get you back. It took me two months to realise that I made a mistake. That the woman I loved will always be the one for me and I should have been there, fighting those wrong feelings and protecting you like a good husband instead of giving in to the immoral desires."

Ram's voice was heavier, and it broke. He was trying hard to not cry. Ram opened the blanket up and spread it over the blankets on the bed. "I know you are upset and want me to leave, but you seem sick and weak. So I'm not leaving until you get better" Ram finally looked in your eyes.

They were, aloof of any emotions. Your face showed confusion and disappointment, but your eyes, they didn't have anything. Absolutely blank. It was a new sight for Ram. Even when he left, those teary eyes had an emotion of betrayal and hatred. That was still better than, this. He firmly believed that eyes are the soul of the window, and this looked like the house that used to be lit by candles was now burnt and left in a handful of ashes. Ram wasn't considerable when he committed the sin but even if it costs him his own happiness, he will make sure to not let you lose yours. He knew you had a fragile heart, no matter how strong you were. He had to do something.

"I don't need you anymore" you spat it. It was a plain statement with, again, no emotions. "I know" he said. He packed the empty cover and put it on top of the cupboard. "And I know I don't deserve a chance, after cheating in a marriage. But this is still my house and you're still my wife-" "what?"

You couldn't fathom what he said.

"Still your wife? Ram you cheated on me! You lied to me about everything then you suddenly showed up and said you want to take care of me and I'm your wife? By what sense? I should have given you divorce by now!" You breathed heavily, the scratchiness in your throat audible in your voice.

Ram stared in your eyes. Still nothing.

"Why would you divorce me? I finally came to apologise and you want to divorce me? I know I made a mistake but that doesn't change the fact that we are married and we are going to be together now. You are my wife. How is that not making sense?" There was a change in your eyes. Ram breathed, whatever works.

"Stop, just stop talking." You put your hand up, sitting on the bed. Ram moved closer to you. "Are you doing a favour apologising? I have all the rights to leave you for what you did and you ask me why I divorce you? We are lawfully wedded, and that's it. And who are you to say that we are going to be together or not? You leave by your choice and you randomly saunter in one day saying you're my husband? I have no feelings or any connections towards you or that word!" You coughed heavily, bending over, in the pallu of your saree. You could see Ram staring from the corner of your eyes.

Letting it all out was difficult, especially when you said the last line out loud. You thought you didn't, but there was still a hope and betrayal growing in your heart since he came back. He's asserting his place in your life, which is wrong, but if he actually decides to have common sense and apologize, maybe you'll give it a chance. The Ram you remembered was smarter than this, this Ram looks like he's forcing you to say things you don't even want to.

Ram saw a wave of emotions in your eyes when they glossed over. And the fact that this was his first time seeing you so sick, even if it was just a flu. But when you said the last line, his heart broke. He accepted his fate, but that didn't mean he will leave you hurt. He wanted you to feel something, anything against him, so you're not left with such a clean slate, even if he has to leave.

Ram bent down in front of you, his hands, hesitantly on your shins. There were dark circles under your eyes and your body hair stood in the cold. He wished to wrap the blanket around you but he hadn't reached there yet. You looked at him, finally. His beard grew and his hair was tied. He was not wearing his own kurta pajama, you could tell. But you looked away before you could melt. Ram had to make you realise it wasn't your fault, and he is the reason for all your devoid of emotions.

"Y/n, I don't think what I did is enough for you to forgive. I don't ask you to either, and I don't mean to force myself here and make you uncomfortable." You looked at him, "but just let me take care of you. I don't force you to talk to me or take me back. I'll be quiet. I'll do everything you wish, and I'll leave if you want me to. I thought that woman was infutiating, but it was all just a lie. I don't understand why I fell, but I blame it on me. That I was a feeble man. Because it was never you, y/n, and I know that, when I realised that you were the only one I ever loved and wanted to take care of. When I saw you in the market it was three months ago and you looked so weak, then I never saw you again. I left her two months ago and I didn't know if I should even come here or not, I stayed with a friend till now. I was scared of coming here to you, where I was once happy and excited to be. That's when I realised I needed to mend things up. It was unsettling that I was scared everyday after I saw you in the market that something had happened to you." Ram licked his lips. You sighed. Your head hurts and you don't want to listen or think about anything. Ram saw the slump in your shoulders, the tired, drained eyes. He has done that to you.

"Do you want some soup?" You looked at him expectantly. You loved when Ram made soup, it was tasty, but soothing that it didn't hurt your throat. The flavours rushed in on your tongue. "Does that mean I'd forgive you?" The question caught Ram off guard. Would it? He shook his head in no. She shook hers in yes.

Ram carefully tucked you in the spread of blankets, despite your attempts to do it yourself. You knew not to settle back in habits. On the other hand, Ram was astonished by the pantry in the kitchen. It was as if nobody lived there now. A few eggs, milk, bread and just some old vegetables. There were missing spices and condiments. Ram remembered that you wanted all sorts of fancy ingredients, so this was a surprise. It was about 15 minutes later when Ram came with a bowl and spoon. You were finally warm and toasty in the blanket and with your favourite soup, when he placed it on your lap, and grabbed the spoon to feed you. You wordlessly stopped him, taking the spoon back from him. Ram sat in silence as you quietly ate your soup, sniffling.

"Are you taking any medicine?" Ram asked, getting up from the bed and heading to the drawer before you could answer. He pulled the box out to see that there was no paracetamol in there, but the box with pain killers was empty. He knew better not to ask anything. Ram came back to see the soup halfway finished. "Why was the first thing you did when you came here was to get the blanket?" You didn't want an answer, even you were not sure why you asked that.

"I knocked and called out your name but you didn't respond. I thought I was too late so I came in, I was panicking. You were under the blankets, you were shivering, and that blanket is the only one that helps. I'm sorry if I scared you." Ram looked down, you didn't say anything.

He left to get a packet of paracetamol and cough syrup for you. After a long time, Ram felt good. He missed doing things for you, getting scolded by you. The love that seeped from your anger and when you ask him to do something. When you ask him things randomly and he replies gently, when you make him do chores you could have done and when he gets to take care of you or make you happy and content. Ram missed it. He returned with a smile on his face, carefully opening the gate and coming to the warmth of that house.

You were fast asleep, slightly snoring under the comfortable blankets. Your hair was a mess, but you were taking a rest so carelessly after a long time, that you didn't care if Ram came back or not, but you were sure that he would. That he finally returned. It was to be decided later that you would forgive him, or pester him like he did to you.

___________________________________

S/n: I'm. I literally PUKED all the fantasies I've had of after break up scenarios like. This was so fun to write thank you so much anon.

Tagging: @chaanv @ramayantika @vijayasena @phoenix666stuff @yehsahihai @nerdreader

[silvershewolf247]

Tearing at the Seams (2)

Andy Barclay could handle a lot of things. He could handle dying. He could handle not eating for a month when this started. He could handle being force fed with a funnel when he refused the food Chucky brought him. He could handle being cut open. He could handle the freezing cold winter. He could handle a hot knife pressed against his skin. He could handle cigarette burns. He could handle the stench of the bodies Chucky piled in the room. He could handle the fucking gag. He could even handle Chucky bitching about his shambling marriage. 

But under no circumstances could Andy Barclay let Chucky into his mind. When Chucky announced his plans, Andy thought he was having a nightmare. For the 15 years he spent waiting for Chucky to come after him again; whenever he had a nightmare, a panic attack, tried to drink away his childhood, spent the night with a gun pointed at his door, or got a dollar store birthday card from Chucky, he had one comfort. And that was that Chucky gave up on possessing him. He might kill him, it might be a brutal, long, and painful death. But it would be just that, death. It would end, and so would he. But now Chucky wanted him to live, and Andy had never been more scared of him.

Andy had done his best to keep it hidden. He knew how desperately Chucky wanted him to be that scared little six year old again. And he wouldn’t let that happen. And he wouldn’t let him possess him. Whatever it took, he’d stop him. He had tried to talk his way out of it. And when talking was taken away from him, he tore his wrists raw and bloody trying to break the restraints. That’s when he tried the ones on his legs. 

When he tried to pull his leg back against the restraint, he ended up pulling his whole body up. And banging against the bed frame, when he came back down. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and testing the strap only made it worse. It was undamaged. But he noticed a warm feeling trickling down his leg. He looked and sure enough, his leg was bleeding again. He wasn’t sure if he tore many stitches, but he’d definitely done something. And Chucky couldn’t use his body without one of his legs. 

He spent every waking moment after that tearing his leg open and screaming to cover up the noise that was making. That was until he heard Chucky coming back down. He was quiet for a moment, hoping he’d go back to ignoring him. Then he tried screaming, hoping it would drive him out of the room again. And when neither worked he just focussed on trying to stop him from looking at his leg, or at least ruining it before Chucky had a chance to stop him. Chucky eventually got frustrated and just grabbed his leg. 

“Oh you little shit,” he was clearly frustrated, but he also sounded almost amused. Andy didn’t have time to consider that much before Chucky jammed a needle into his side, and he found himself passing out again. 

He wasn’t sure how long ago that had been. He felt more groggy than the last time, but he didn’t know if that meant he was under for more or less time. All he knew was that Chucky was somewhere nearby. 

“Well look who finally woke up.” Andy squeezed his eyes trying to blink away the last of his drug induced sleep. Something was wrong, something was different. The gag was out again. But that wasn’t it. Andy looked at his side, not expecting Chucky to be looming over him. Then he looked at his leg. He figured Chucky had repaired it. It was wrapped in gauze stained with his blood. And while he didn’t look at it that much, he couldn’t imagine his leg being bandaged was something that would throw him off. It probably wasn’t even the first time it happened. It was so painful that he hadn’t even noticed getting stitches. That’s when he realized his leg didn’t hurt anymore. Not in the slightest. He tried to move it, it didn’t budge.

“How you doing buddy,” Chucky asked, patting his leg. Nothing. It didn’t even feel like it was part of his body, just something next to him.  

“What did you do,” Andy asked, his voice sounded so tired, weak, it felt pathetic.

“What did I do? What did you do? You did quite a number on yourself champ, lucky for you I caught onto it before you tore open more of your stitches,” Chucky said, his tone physically paining Andy. Andy cringed at his voice

“Don’t worry, sport. Doc was already here. You only tore a couple of stitches, Mixter was able to patch it up, not even going to set back your recovery,” Andy didn’t have the energy to hide his devastation. 

“You’re a real lucky guy aren’t you Andy,” Chucky continued. 

“Why can’t I feel my leg?,” Andy asked, he hated the weakness in his voice almost as much as he hated the mockery in Chucky’s.

”Oh, well I realized it had been kind of inconsiderate of me not to give you pain killers when we stitched you up. It must have been very painful for you. So I talked to Mixter, and she got you something to help with that.” Andy looked at his leg, wincing. 

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll make sure to give you something everyday, so you don’t have to deal with that,” Chucky answered. Andy closed his eyes and leaned his head back. 

“Now unfortunately they’ll leave you a bit tired and you won’t be able to move that leg. But don’t worry, once we get those stitches out,” Chucky gestured to himself, “I’ll make sure to help get that leg back to 100%.” Chucky finished, patting Andy’s leg again. 

[adzeisval]

Goodbye Note

Lucius notices that there is something wrong with Izzy. Also on AO3.

There was something wrong with Izzy. Well there was a lot wrong with Izzy but this was something new. Lucius vaguely noticed Izzy coming back on board from their trip to Jamaica looking bruised and fucked up but he didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t unusual for one or more of them to come back hurt or still drunk. In the week that followed though there were several incidents that indicated that something more was going on. 

Two days out from Jamaica they had a party for Oluwande’s birthday and Lucius had to help Jim get Olu back to their room. Izzy wasn’t at the party, which was odd but sometimes Izzy didn’t seem to be in the mood for parties. They tried to be quiet passing Izzy’s room no one wanted to wake Izzy up. On his way back up to the deck Lucius heard something from Izzy’s room. He paused and thought he heard Izzy crying. Or maybe he was just drunk and imagining it. 

Four days out from Jamaica Izzy caught Lucius and Pete in the storeroom and just sighed and went away. No snarky remarks, no teasing, nothing. 

Lucius spent the next day watching Izzy and he just seemed so off. Usually Izzy made his rounds around the ship to make sure duties were being done. He issued commands and orders and seemed to always be moving around. Now he was just standing and looking out at the water for a long time between half-heartedly doing his duties. 

That night was the crew meeting; they’d started the meeting after the Captain’s got back together to form a union of sorts so they had a say about what went on. Stede was a fan of the idea and Ed just shrugged and let them have the meetings. 

“So I’ve noticed…” 

“That something’s wrong with Izzy?” Jim finished.

“He hasn’t been as much of a bastard lately,” Roach said. 

“I…think I heard him crying the other night,” Lucius said. 

“I guess we need to try to get him to talk,” Roach said. 

“I might try,” Lucius said, “I guess that’s the only thing to do.” 

Lucius thought about how best to approach Izzy but Izzy seemed to spend the day avoiding them all. Lucius went to bed frustrated and uncertain. A few hours later Lucius woke to someone shaking him. He jumped a little when he saw it was Jim. Jim scoffed at him. 

“Get up,” they said. Lucius tried to think of a reason Jim would be waking him up in the middle of the night. It was dark but he didn’t think Jim was holding a weapon. Lucius got up and followed Jim below deck, which was probably a stupid idea. 

Jim walked right past their room and up to Izzy’s door which was open just a little bit. 

“We’re coming in old man,” Jim announced. God what was it about them that made them able to get away with that? The knives? Probably the knives. Lucius followed Jim into Izzy’s room. Olu was there sitting on a chair across from Izzy’s bed. Izzy didn’t look up from where he sat on his bed. Izzy took an unsteady breath and let out a little choked noise. 

Fuck, he’d been crying. 

“What’s going on?” Lucius asked. 

“Nightmare. We think,” Olu said, “He woke us up screaming and crying.”

“It didn’t even look like he recognized us at first,” Jim added. 

“Izzy? Can I sit down by you?” Lucius asked.

Izzy nodded.

“Do you want to tell us what’s going on Izzy? We’ve noticed you’ve been…not yourself. We’re worried about you.” 

That got Izzy to look up at them.

“It doesn’t have to be all three of us,” Lucius added, “Could be more or less. Please Izzy.” 

For a while Izzy was quiet then he spoke, “Alright.” 

*****

Izzy had been going to Rachael’s Tea House for almost twenty years. He’d found the place while trying to avoid another fucking barfight. He just wanted a place to sit by himself and spend some coin on food and drink.

A year and a half ago Izzy had gone to Rachael’s to find his old friend sick. He’d talked to her for a long time and wished her well. When he retired six months later Rachael was gone. 

It was almost exactly a year later when Izzy found himself at Rachael’s again. They’d kept the name the same and he knew Rachaels daughter and husband were running the place. He felt a little nervous going in, but really how much could it have changed in a year?

Izzy walked through the doors and at first nothing seemed that different. He saw several regulars there, people he’d seen almost every time. He approached the counter where Anne, Rachael’s daughter was washing dishes. 

“Afternoon,” he said. 

Anne looked at him and gasped, “You…” 

Izzy frowned a little and continued to stand at the counter even as Anne rushed to the back. He managed to glance back at the other people in the tea house who were all staring. What the fuck? Why on earth would Anne run off? Izzy had never so much as raised his voice in the tea house, he’d always paid with good coin and often extra when he had it, and he’d never fought on the premises. Rachael had known what he was, they probably all knew he was a pirate but…

“You need to leave.” 

Izzy looked at the man before him, Anne’s husband, still in a state of shock. 

“Leave and don’t ever come back you bastard,” he said. 

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Izzy growled.

“You tormented Rachael for years. Terrified her. You’re the reason she died so young!” 

“Piss off you nasty pirate,” someone called out from behind him. 

“We’re done putting up with your filth here,” someone else said. 

“Fine,” Izzy growled and walked out. His head was reeling and he didn’t understand what had just happened. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice he’d been followed until someone pulled him into an alley and punched him in the gut. 

Izzy went to his knees. 

“Serves you right you little fuck, mom and dad might want to just get rid of you but you deserve worse. Grandma was terrified of you.” 

Izzy looked up at two young men who looked familiar. Ahh, Rachael’s grandsons. He looked at the men, both were over six feet tall and huge. In his younger days Izzy thought he might be able to take them but he wasn’t sure now. 

“Fuck off,” Izzy said and tried to stand. He dodged one punch but not the second which landed heavily on his jaw and sent him against the wall. Another hit to the head sent him sprawling on the ground. One of the men took the opportunity to pin Izzy to the ground on his stomach.  Izzy thrashed and tried to get up but the other one pushed him down, a hand to the back of Izzy’s neck the other pressing his back so hard he could barely breathe.

“We don’t need pirate fucks like ou around here. Only one way to get rid of you for certain.” 

Izzy started to panic. The men could easily kill him and he didn’t think anyone was going to come to save him. No one knew where he was.

Every time one of them would kick or punch him Izy tried to get free, tried to find some sort of leverage as blow after blow came. He was starting to feel dizzy and sick and he wondered if he was about to pass out or die.

 The man pressing his upper body down started  laughing, so much so that he let off the pressure,  just a little. Izzy made one last ditch effort to knock the men off and…it worked. Izzy scrambled up and bolted, not daring to look behind him. He ignored all the pain and bit his tongue to try to stay awake even though he was seeing spots and felt like he would fall over any minute. 

He only felt safe again once he got to the Revenge.

***

Lucius stared at Izzy, mouth open in shock. Fuck. He heard a sound and saw Jim twirling their knife. 

“I’m so sorry Izzy,” Lucius said.

“We’ll go kill those fuckers for you, I’m gonna fucking enjoy it,” Jim said. 

“No. No killing.” 

“Why the fuck not?” Jim said. 

“They’re Rachael’s family. If we were to kill them that makes me exactly what they think. I don’t want to destroy what she built. She…might have been a friend. That bothers me more. I keep thinking back to all the times I talked to her. I never thought she was scared of me. I don’t know if she was. I’m bad with people sometimes. I don’t mean to be. Fuck, I don’t know.” Izzy started to cry again. 

“We’re here for you Izzy,” Olu said. 

“I…fuck I hope I didn’t torment her. I can’t…did I really…what the fuck is wrong with me? That I couldn’t see it?”

“They could have been lying. Putting the blame on you because they’re grieving. Which is still beyond fucked,” Lucius said. 

“If I was there I would have slit their fucking throats for daring to touch you,” Jim said. 

“Are you alright? Physically I mean?” Lucius asked. 

Izzy shrugged, “Bruised and sore. I’ve survived worse.” 

“What can we do for you Izzy?” Lucius asked. 

Izzy frowned then let out a little sob, “I don’t know.”

“If you think of something let us know,” Lucius said. 

“Just don’t tell Edward or Stede please. And I’m sorry Jim and Olu, nightmares should go away soon.” 

“Just remember we’re here,” Lucius said. He wished that he could do something more but if Izzy didn’t know what he needed or wanted Lucius didn’t. He supposed he would just be kind to Izzy and check in. 

In time Izzy got back to normal, or closer to it anyway. There were still times when he seemed to get distant and sad and it seemed once a month or so he would wake crying or screaming. 

About a year later they went back to Jamaica. Izzy claimed to be sick and said he was going to stay on the ship. Jim stayed with him. 

When they got back Lucius noticed Stede handing Izzy a piece of paper. Izzy looked at it like it might bite him and quickly went downstairs. 

Later when Izzy came up he looked a little…off.

“Something wrong Izzy?” Lucius asked. 

“I don’t know. Yet. Can you…can you help me with something Spriggs?” 

“Sure, well unless it involves murder then maybe you’d better ask Jim,” Lucius said. 

Izzy snorted, “It’s not that. I need you to read something for me.” 

“Alright,” Lucius said, still confused, but he followed Izzy down below anyway. 

“Stede came by this letter. It’s addressed to me. From Rachael, before she died. I recognize her handwriting. I’m too nervous to read it myself, fuck, that’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid, I’ll read it to you,” Lucius said.

“Thank you,” Izzy said. 

“My dear Izzy, I wish I could tell you this in person, but I’m afraid by the time you return I will be gone. I’ve given control of the tea house to my daughter and her husband. They are trying to change things, draw in richer clientele. I fear this means they won’t welcome you there. I’m sorry. I hope you know how much I enjoyed your presence over the years. I hope you are well and wish you the best. Your friend, Rachael.” 

Izzy took the letter from Lucius and read it carefully. Izzy started to cry as he clutched the letter to his chest. 

“I didn’t scare her…they lied…thank you Lucius,” Izzy said. 

“You're welcome. I’m glad it was something good,” Lucius said.

[shina913]

Coquet, Part 7 | JJK

Coquet, Part 7

\ kō-​ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.

✫✫✫Coquet Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: SLOW BURN!; bed-sharing; morning-after conversation; excessive cussing; explicit sexual conversations; oral (mutual); fingering; breast play; riding; protected sex; dirty talk; cum eating; praise kink; vulnerable confessions and conversations; tooth-rotting fluff; some angst; more tension and teasing (as if I didn't put enough already); quickie sex; JK and YN are such idiots for each other; medical emergency; crack ensues

Word count: 9.4K+ words

Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.

A/N: This started off soft...and then got kind of filthy in the middle? Anyway, I'm trying to keep it classy but it's hard to do when I'm writing about this man 😂 A bit more exposition on this chapter. I glossed over a few things but hopefully it still all makes sense, plot-wise.

A/N2: Multiple POV switches here - I hope it's not too jarring! Please let me know if it is--I would love to improve my writing, if so!

A/N3: For the ending...I apologize for the shallow research 😓 I did my best for that portion but will try a little harder in the coming chapters. Thank you for understanding.

When Jungkook woke, there was barely any light in the room. He rolled to the far side of his half of the bed. He lifted his torso slightly to tap on his phone and check what time it was. He saw that it was barely six in the morning—typically about the time he started his shift…at his normal job.

He chuckled to himself. It was odd to think about work since it hadn’t crossed his mind much. But since his colleague had been in contact with him in the last two days, it’s been slowly nagging at him. This was the first time he’d taken time off in a while and his colleague had apologized profusely every time they had to call him. He didn’t mind–he loved his job. And if he was being honest, it was great to focus on one job since he gave up being an escort many months ago.

But since he decided to go for one final booking– he was intent on making the most out of the last few days.

Settling back into the mattress, he rolled over to face her and couldn’t help the soft smile that crossed his lips. She looked calm and passive–the total opposite of the minx that she was just hours ago.

Contrary to what he said to her last night, he had never fully relinquished control. He only made women think that he did–but in the end, he always took back the reins.

He was completely enraptured and he was all too happy to toss out the final remnants of control that he had out the door just so she would allow him to have her.

Just then, she stirred. Her eyes flickered open.

“Morning,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as quickly as she had opened them to adjust to the light that started to fill the room.

When she opens them again, she finds him beaming at her from where he’s lying on his side, mirroring her. Her hand is on his hip. His on hers.

“You look pretty happy this morning,” she says while smiling at him.

He chuckles, while she moves in closer until her breath is spreading across his bare chest.

“I like watching you sleep. You make all these little noises. And you have the cutest snore.”

She laughed lazily at that. She rolls on her back to stretch herself out slowly before laying on her side again.

Moments later, he slides his hand on her naked back and pulls her closer to him.

“Woah there,” she croaks out. “I just woke up–give a girl some time to recover,” she chuckled as she rested her palm on his chest.

“I wasn’t even thinking about that,” he says. “I thought it was a little chilly in the room so–I thought I’d warm you up.”

She rolled her eyes at him. Truthfully, he did want her again…just like this. She felt soft and warm–and her being naked was making things twice as difficult to resist. If sleep wasn’t a necessity, he would have kept going all night.

“How do you feel?” He manages to ask while trying to distract himself from his growing hardon.

“Good,” she said simply. She smiled before catching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something else behind that smile. He knew that she was replaying moments from the night before. She stretched her neck to the side and back. He had her bent over every which way last night–admittedly, he was a little worried whether he had pushed her to her limit.

She propped up her elbow and rested her head on it. “What about you?”

“Also good,” he says simply. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks out of concern.

She laughed. “I’m fine. It’s just…it’s been a while since I’ve trained for a marathon,” she jokes. It eased his worries.

Suddenly, something catches her eye. She swipes at his pec and giggles while she holds up her finger to him, showing faint traces of chocolate. “Looks like we made a mess last night, huh?”

“We did.” He goes on to trace his finger under her jawline, finding a smudge of chocolate. “And I apparently missed a spot,” he said before he tilts her head back to dip down to her neck to lick it.

She moaned softly as his soft licks turned into slow suctions. 

His hand traveled down to her thigh, giving it a squeeze before he grasped the back of her knee to wrap her leg around him. Once she was open for him, he reached back to rub her clit from behind. She was already swollen and soaked for him in a matter of seconds.

She gently wriggled away from his grasp, taking him by surprise–giggling.

“Did I do something wrong?” 

She shook her head as she rose from her side, making him sit up in reaction.

“Nothing–I just wanted to mix it up a bit,” she says as she turns the tables and straddles his waist.

He laughed. “Hmm–still want to be in control, I see?”

She smiled mischievously. “I kind of like it.” She bit her lower lip with her teeth–making his cock twitch. Her confidence turned him on like crazy, way more than seeing her in all her glory while his hardon rested against her ass cheeks.

She reached over by the nightstand on his side to grab a condom. For those few seconds, he relished the feel of her breasts pressed up against his bare chest. He was finding it hard to flip her on her back and fuck her right into next week.

When she straightened up, she adjusted herself so his cock was now in the forefront.

He moaned softly as he felt her slickness glide over the tip ever-so-slightly. He was being extremely patient, letting her set the pace.

She glanced down at this length, as if admiring it. Just when he thought he knew what to expect, she curled her fingers around it and stroked slowly.

His jaw goes slack, letting out a quick breath as her hand slid up to the tip, squeezing out the pre-cum. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when she arched her back downward for a lick.

“Fuck,” he croaked out.

Next thing he knew, she took him in her mouth. She sucked him with long, drawing pulls, alternated with a drag of the flat of her tongue up and down his length.

His thighs flexed, breaths coming out ragged, one hand fisting at the sheets while the other cupped her nape as the coil within him twisted further every time he felt his tip hit the back of her throat.

“YN, I’m close,” he managed to say. “Do you want me to cum like this?”

At the sound of that, she released her hold on him, making a soft popping noise. “Hmm, nope.”

Oddly, he didn’t mind that she stopped. Without missing a beat, he slid a hand between her thighs. She was drenched just from sucking him off.

She gasped when his fingers grazed her folds, teasing her entrance before he plunges two fingers.

“Tell me,” he all but growls as he curls his digits in her. “Do you want my cock where my fingers are now?”

Eyes squeezed shut, she nodded wordlessly. “I can’t hear you, YN,” he purrs, adding a third finger into her.

“Aah…fuck, yes. I want you in me, please,” she begged.

“That’s better.” He feels around the sheets for the condom that she grabbed earlier. Once he retrieves it, he rips the packet with his teeth, then hands it to her to sheath him while he continues to pump into her with his other hand.

After she slid the condom down his length, he withdrew his fingers from her slowly. He brought them up to his lips and sucked. He loved the way she tasted. He kept coming back for more last night when he ate her out a few times. He made a mental note to do that again today.

He lifted her hips while she guided him to her center, sinking into him with ease with how wet she was.

While her walls settled around him, he asked, “Whatever happened to your thoughts on sex for money as being, I believe the quote was, ‘morally abhorrent?’”

“Well–” she puckered her lips playfully. “Technically, it’s just sex–really good sex, if I may say so. No money’s been exchanged…yet,” she says softly as she rolled her hips once.

“You really think I’d still charge you for this?” His hips surged as well, which made her moan.

“Like I said…I don’t expect anything for free…especially when it’s good work.” She bucked at him in return, making him growl–gripping her hips tightly.

“Hmm…be careful of what you wish for. I might bankrupt you then.” He slammed deep into her core.

She gasped. “Then I’m happy to go broke for you.”

She pulled his palms from her hips and dragged them down up her breasts. When he cupped them, she splayed her hands on his shoulders and rocked her hips. He felt harder than he’d ever been as she continued to undulate. His fingers on her nipples, rolling and tugging, sent waves of pleasure through her, the gentle stimulation shooting straight to her core. When he urged her closer and took the hardened tip in his mouth she cried out, making their bodies heat up with arousal.

“Fuck… at this rate, I think I would need to pay you,” he grunted. “I…fuck, you feel so fucking good.” 

“Yes…fuck me harder, Jungkook,” she breathes out. As she clenched her thighs, he lifted her. She closed her eyes to focus on the way he felt as he slid out…then he bit his lip at the way he felt her stretch as he slid back in.

“That’s it, YN,” he murmured, licking across her chest to her other nipple, fluttering his tongue over the tight, aching tip.

Rolling his hips, he relished the feel of filling her so to the brim. She had shamelessly worked herself into a frenzy as she rode him, bending backward at an angle so the tip rubbed her right where she needed it.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she mewled as she held on to his shins. “Oh, yes, yes, yes…” she chanted. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back but he knew that he wanted to make her cum first. He liked watching her fall apart–he reveled in it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He gripped the back of her neck in one hand and her waist in the other, arching his hips to push deeper, making her gasp audibly. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, YN.”

She whimpered as he felt everything in her tighten. The tension, builds further from his deep rhythmic strokes. He was panting, frantically pumping his hips harder. Reaching between her legs, she rubbed her clit with the pads of her fingers, hastening her climax. It was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever watched.

He gasped, leaning against the headboard’s cushion, his neck straining as he struggled to control his own climax. “C’mon, YN…give it to me.”

His words and his voice pushed her over the edge. She steeled herself–crying out when the first hard tremor hit her…then again as the rest of her orgasm cascaded through her body. He felt her walls clamped tightly around his length–spurring his own climax.

He groaned through gritted teeth, holding onto her until the clenches began to fade. He clutched her hips and pumped the last spurts into her…with one, final deep thrust, he growled her name.

******

He fucked you in the shower once more. He ate you out right before that. You stood against the wall while he was on his knees—your leg hooked on his shoulder as he worked. All you did was pick out your clothes from the closet—naked. Then he took you by surprise.

You barely made it downstairs before the coffee shop ended breakfast service. 

Shortly after, the wedding party was off to the chapel.

When you arrived, you and Jungkook split off while you went to greet Taehyung, who was conversing with Jimin and another groomsman. You walked off right before Haru returned from the bathroom.

You approached Mindi, Jennie, Hana, and Liah. The latter three having their own animated conversation about what songs they’d be singing during karaoke night after the rehearsal dinner.

“Is the wedding coordinator running late?”

“Yeah, a little. Of course Auntie Rose is having a mini hissy fit.”

In your head, you thought it was just because she missed her morning mimosa.

“This chapel is pretty secluded so, maybe this lady’s GPS just couldn’t keep up,” Mindi joked. “I wished they’d just do it at the resort.”

“Isn’t this where Jennie’s grandparents got married?” You wondered out loud while looking up at the chapel’s architecture. “I’m sure it holds more meaning for her than the resort.”

“I know, sorry. I just said that because I’m being selfish. I was hoping to bring a date over to karaoke night,” she says, lowering her voice at the last bit.

Your eyes bulge out. “Park Mindi—when did this happen? And who is it?” Before she answered, you came to a late realization.

“Oh…my god. Was it ‘hot bartender’ from bachelorette night?”

She shushed you right away, looking over her shoulder to make sure that her brother was out of earshot.

You giggled amongst yourselves.

“Girl, you’re a grown woman! Who cares what your brother thinks? This isn’t high school.”

She grinned. “I know, I know. It’s just…I think I might really like him. He’s like this strong, silent type…has the cutest, gummiest smile. We’ve been talking since that night. He lives, like, three hours away from me but he says he doesn’t mind driving to come see me.”

“Oh Mindiiii, you’re down bad.”

“I know…and it’s not just because I haven’t had sex in six months, I swear.”

“Mindi!” You playfully scold her. “We are in a house of worship!”

She rolled her eyes. “So? I’m sure they liked sex, too. One way or the other,” she giggled before she turned her attention to Jungkook, who sat on a bench right in front of your dad.

You grinned and gave him a small wave. He pauses his conversation with your dad and waves right back.

Mindi sidles up to you and whispers in your ear. “Come on, there must be something wrong with him. Anything. Like…maybe his dick is crooked or something.”

She awaits your response but when you stay silent, stifling a smile. She groaned. “Ah shit, don’t tell me. It’s fucking perfect. I hate you, unnie,” she grumbled.

******

“Keeping an old man company?”

Jungkook smiles softly at YN’s dad as he settles into an empty pew.

“Yep…it’s all about the women when it comes to these things. The men take a backseat,” he chuckles softly.

“Taehyung seems to be happy letting Jennie take the reins on this one,” Jungkook remarks.

“They’re good for each other–Tyeongie and Jennie. I’ve always told him that when he finds the person who makes his heart happy–never let them go. He really took those words seriously–which is why he just went and proposed to her after seven months,” he laughs.

“Was Taehyung’s mom the one who made your heart happy?”

“Of course,” he beamed. “Unfortunately…our time together on this earth was short. But it doesn’t mean that it was less meaningful. I eventually found another person who made my heart happy for the last couple of decades,” he looked and smiled at YN’s mom from a distance.

Seconds later, he turns wistful.

“I remember when I first met YN. I’d been seeing Rose for a few months and she finally trusted me enough to meet her kid,” he says, shifting his weight and leaning over by the chair in front of him. “So I’m over at her place and this little terror just runs down the hallway,” he shook his head, laughing at the memory.

He threw his hands up. “And that was it. I was a goner! That was the day I gained a daughter.”

Jungkook smiles, briefly imagining YN as this tiny ball of energy running around her mother’s house.

Suddenly, her dad takes a serious tone while looking wistfully up at the altar…at YN and Taehyung. “You know, Jungkook–you think it’s going to get easier as they get older…that you’re going to worry about them less, or that you’re going to trust the world more. But that’s just not how it happens.”

He shifted his eyes and stared at the ground. “I spent many nights thinking about YN after…,” he sighed sullenly before clearing his throat, “…After she moved away. Worrying about her and how awful I felt that I wouldn’t be able to get to her fast enough if or when she needed me. In some small way, I feel like I failed her.”

“Sir, if I may?”

YN’s dad gives him a small nod.

Jungkook looks at him in earnest. “I don’t think she thinks that you failed her–not in the slightest. In fact, she loves you wholeheartedly. You keep her grounded. And–although she doesn’t have your blood running through her veins–you are most definitely ingrained in her whole being.”

Jae smiles warmly at Jungkook. “Thank you, Jungkookie. You’re too kind.”

Jungkook chews at his bottom lip before he says his next statement. “Also–uh…” he says nervously, “This may not make much sense to you right now but–I’d love to get your permission to date your daughter.”

Jae’s eyebrows knit and his lips twitch into a chuckle, his eyes giving off a mischievous glint. “I thought you already were?”

******

After a few run-throughs of the wedding ceremony, there were a few more hours left before the rehearsal dinner and karaoke night. While Taehyung and Jennie rehearsed their choreographed wedding dance, you and Jungkook stepped away for a quiet moment at the beach.

Your conversation started off fairly casual–asking him if he always knew how to dance like he did yesterday while you walked along the shoreline. He says that he took lessons after one of his clients booked him for a themed-ball. He enjoyed it so much that he took a few more to add to his growing ‘repertoire.’

The day was winding down and the afternoon sun wasn’t as scorching hot so you took a moment and decided to sit on a spot on the sand and watched the waves wash in and out.

“Is your name really Jeon Jungkook?”

He laughed loudly, scrunching his nose slightly. “Yes, it is.”

You look at him skeptically. Cristina told you months ago that all of the guys on the app use aliases, to protect their identities. Understandable.

She encouraged you to do the same but you figured it would be incredibly difficult to do that since you’d be around family for this date.

He cleared his throat. “I did go by different aliases before, though,” he admitted.

“What names did you go by?”

He laughed again, recalling the names that he went by. When you booked him, his profile name only indicated a ‘J.’

“I used to go by ‘Justin.’ Justin Siegel.”

You snorted. “You do not look like a ‘Justin’ to me.”

“Aaaaand before that, I went by ‘Ian.’”

Your face twisted in confusion. “‘Ian’?! Why ‘Ian?’”

He chuckled. “I was looking up various personas then. And I happened to be drawn to James Bond so…” he shrugged.

You giggled at him. “Are you serious?”

“What? I was 21…I thought I was hot shit then,” he says.

“Why didn’t you just go with ‘James’?” You said sarcastically.

“Now that would make it too obvious, wouldn’t it? Besides, Bond is merely a character. Flemming created him.”

You nodded. He had a good point. 

“And are you really from where you say you are?”

“I am,” he smiled at you.

“And…your parents?”

He sighed. “They’re retired. They spend most of their time traveling these days.”

“Do you have any siblings? You mentioned a cousin before,” you prodded.

“No, I don’t. My parents were workaholics. It was a miracle that they even had me,” he laughs humorlessly.

“Oh…” you said ruefully.

“I was a latchkey kid, growing up. One of my neighbors was really cool–kind of took pity on me and would look in every now and then to make sure I was okay until my parents got home.”

You look at him sullenly.

He notices the sad look on your face. “It’s alright–I’d like to think that I turned out okay.”

You gave him a small smile. “You seem like a good person,” you say to him sincerely. “But is that–” you cleared your throat. “Is that how…you know, you got into–this business?”

He laughed. “Uh–one would think that something like that would push somebody to do unconventional things. But no–that’s not why I got into this.”

“So…why then?”

He sighed. “After I moved out of my parents’ house, I didn’t really know what to do. I worked from one job to another. I was kind of over it…and to be honest, I needed the money. I was too proud to ask my parents for help.”

He paused then clicked his teeth. “And then…one day, I was venting to one of my coworkers. He gave me the lead on this ‘special’ dating app.” He gestured with air quotes. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Plus, I had no reason to doubt him. He wasn’t bad looking—he had the dimples going for him, you know?”

You chuckle softly but stayed silent while he continued.

“Anyway, he brought me over to meet the guy behind the app to get me permission so I can get on it. He looked unassuming at first. He looked like an actor with these broad shoulders—but you could tell that he gave off this energy that could tame a brat in seconds.”

They fitted him with a suit and sent him out on his first date. The rest was history.

“But why be an escort? Weren’t you scared or didn’t you feel weird with that job?”

“Honestly, I just did what I had to. The app gives us enough protection. And why be an escort?” He chuckled as he repeated your question. “Women, money, and a good time. I was pretty young…I thought, why not?”

You laughed. You didn’t feel judgmental towards him. You were just curious and found it genuinely fascinating. And you agreed with him. “Right. When you’re young, you’re a lot more adventurous.”

He nods solemnly before clearing his throat. “What about…your real dad?” he asks, treading carefully.

The topic of your dad was no longer a sore spot for you. If anything, it was an ugly but faded scar that had healed. It was there and you didn’t mind talking about it when people asked.

You sighed. “I barely have any contact with him,” you began matter-of-factly. “He left me and my mom when I was really young. He came by my school once to try and explain things but–I didn’t really understand what was going on. He reached out to me again after high school. A valiant effort on his part but, at that point, my stepdad had long filled that emptiness in my life,” you say. 

“Anyway, he sends the occasional greeting card and I do the same,” you shrugged then smiled wryly.

You haven’t talked about your dad in years. Even when you were still with Haru, he didn’t really ask about him much. You figured Taehyung already gave him a heads up about it being an awkward topic for you since you were younger so he never really pressed you.

It felt somewhat natural just talking to Jungkook about it…about anything, really. In a span of days, you felt more of an open book to him compared to years with Haru. In the back of your mind, you had a feeling that maybe Jungkook felt the same while he shared bits about himself with you.

You paused for a beat, considering your next question. “Do you think we’re crossing a line?”

He regards you intently. “Which line is that?” In all honesty, it seemed like a dumb question to ask as you were fully aware that you had, in fact, crossed the line with him. Several times last night…and twice this morning before coming down for breakfast.

You sighed deeply. “I assume by now you’ve guessed that I’m a bit of an overthinker-slash-overanalyzer. It is part of my day job so it’s hard to fall out of it when it comes to living my normal life.”

He chuckled softly.

“I just…” you caught your lower lip with your teeth. “I know that our time together is almost over and I guess…I’ve suddenly made the unconscious decision to get to know you–”

“You mean ‘we,’” he corrected. “We decided to get to know each other.”

You couldn’t help but think that you were going through this process backward. Have the sex first, and then get to know each other? It wasn’t even supposed to be this way. You brought him as sort of a human shield to protect you from your family’s ‘concerns’ and ultimately show up Haru.

You gave him a small smile. “I feel…” You struggled to get the words out of your mouth. “I’m fully aware that we started off with this business arrangement and I don’t…I don’t want to invade your privacy, so to speak.”

“Why would you think you’d be invading my privacy? I’m answering your questions, being open to you…”

You shrugged. “And I appreciate that. I just can’t help but…feel a little sad.”

“How come?” His brows knit in confusion.

You stare at him for a bit–wanting to just come out with it but you lose your nerve and shook your head softly “It’s stupid,” you say dismissively before turning your head away. Quite the pivot from the YN who practically seduced him to get in bed with you last night.

“C’mon, tell me,” he urges softly. “I won’t think it’s stupid.”

“No, no…you’ll laugh.”

You felt like you were being such an idiot about it or that it was all just in your head but…waking up this morning to him felt different. Admittedly, you were scared to lean into these feelings. Because, if it turns out that you had completely misread him and you leaned in too far—you’d fall without anyone there to catch you. And it will hurt. A lot.

“Okay, now you have me curious,” he presses on. “Tell me. I won’t laugh, I promise,” he says seriously. “Why do you feel sad?”

You clicked your teeth and released a shaky breath. “Because…I’m getting to know you now but then…after this, I won’t get to see you again,” you admit quietly.

He turns his head away briefly and lets out a soft chuckle.

You rolled your eyes. “See? I knew it–it was stupid,” you say, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m not laughing because of that, I swear,” he says.

“Yes, but you’re laughing at me,” you say with a hint of annoyance.

“I swear, I’m not,” he says seriously.

“Then why are you laughing?” You finally ask him.

He looks you straight in the eye before responding. “Because–I feel the exact same way,” he reveals. “I’ve never gotten to know anybody like you.”

Now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows at him and roll your eyes. “Shut up,” you chuckled at what you thought was an attempt at flattery.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “I do feel sad, too.” He lets out an incredibly deep sigh. “I’ve…always had this…perimeter I’ve built around myself. Everything I’ve ever done in the last few years–I’ve never gone beyond that because of the nature of this business. Women hire me to put up an illusion. For me to fulfill that, I had to come up with a persona that was separate from my reality.  And that was part of the reason why I decided to take a step back from this whole thing.”

“Why did you take a step back?” You folded your knees up to your chest and rested your head on them, listening to him intently.

He sighed. “I got tired of being who other people wanted me to be. It gets old after some time. And there was something that my last client said to me–at the funeral,” he clarifies.

Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you recalled him answering your question about the ‘oddest’ booking he’s ever had.

“It was a weird setup for me at first and I was really close to canceling until we got to talking. She told me that she and her husband met each other really late in life–they had no children. When he was gone, she felt more alone than she did all those years before she met him.”

“Oh my–that’s…tragic,” you commented.

“It is, but she gave me some really good advice. She said that…she hasn’t had many regrets in life except for one–and that was, not meeting her husband soon enough. Everyone is entitled to experience real love at least once in their life.” He paused to stare off into the horizon as the sun began to set.

“It just made me think…maybe I wanted something like that for myself, too.” He says it in earnest–like somebody who still closed their eyes to make a wish right before they blew out their birthday candles.

“And…have you found it?” You asked carefully.

“Maybe,” he says vaguely. “Funny enough, I received almost the same advice today from somebody else,” he says with a smile.

You recall a moment when you saw him and your dad chatting at the chapel this morning while you and the others were going through the ceremony’s run-through. You never thought to ask Jungkook what they talked about.

“Is this why you never do weddings? Because it brings out all of these sentimental thoughts?”

He threw his head back and laughed heartily. “In a way, I guess? Personally, I feel like it’s the most difficult setting to try and fake your way to being in love.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “People look at the couple and they automatically try to project their hopes and dreams towards them,” he says with a hint of cynicism.

You scoffed. “And you being the guy who’s built a perimeter around himself–don’t want to project any of those hopes and dreams?”

He threw his hands up in the air and lifted his shoulders. “What can I say? It’s bad for business,” he said with a chuckle.

You laughed. “So–I have to ask…when you quit, what did you do? Did you just sit around or–got a boring old desk job or something?”

He gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, I’ve got a job–it’s not at a desk and certainly not boring.”

You stared at him silently for a few seconds, more intrigued than ever. “Well? What’s with the whole mystery? What’s your day job?”

He snorted. “You’re going to laugh but–I’m actually–”

“YN! Jungkook!”

Both your heads whip around to see Jimin run out from the patio calling out for you.

“Geez, neither of you was picking up your phones! It’s almost time for dinner. Are you guys good? The shuttles will come to pick us up soon so you both need to hustle if you need to wash up or anything like that.”

“Oh shit,” you said. “I didn’t realize what time it was!” You pulled your phone out and realized that the network coverage was little to none out by the beach. You still had to shower and pull yourself together–the last part of your conversation, all but forgotten.

Jungkook gets up quickly and stretches his hand out to help you up. You dust the sand off your butt and your palms before starting back toward the hotel.

“I’ll see you guys at the lobby in half an hour,” Jimin says as he turns on his heel and walks back indoors.

After yelling out your thanks to him, Jungkook put his hand on the small of your back as you both walked through the sand and back up indoors.

You turned to him. “Thanks for the conversation,” you say to him.

“It was my pleasure. And thank you as well,” he says. “Would you be weirded out if I said that I was going to miss this?”

You gasped softly and felt your cheeks heat up. “Not at all. I’m…going to miss it, too. I’d miss you, I think.”

“You think?” He says, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

You roll your eyes. “Okay, yes–I will miss you,” you shove his arm playfully.

He chuckles. “Good, because I won’t just miss this… I’ll miss you, too.”

You both turn quiet all of a sudden. Now, it felt like the longest walk back to the hotel ever. As you approach the elevators, he clears his throat before his next question takes you aback.

“So, is anybody picking you up from the airport on Sunday? You know, when we get back?”

“No, I was just going to take a cab or call a rideshare.”

“I, uh…happened to park in the long-term lot.” He says nonchalantly as he pushes the ‘up’ button. “I don’t mind giving you a lift.”

You chuckled at the thought. Why turn down a free ride? The airport was always hell anyway on Sundays. “Sure,“ you say just as casually.

“It’s the least I could do, you know,” he mumbles.

“Yeah…that sounds…efficient,” you say, trying to stifle a grin while you watch the numbers on the top screen wind down closer to the lobby.

“Right. And…speaking of efficiency…maybe if you’re hungry, we can go grab dinner or something,” adds sheepishly.

You turn and look at him pointedly. His expression changes into a worrisome one and he tries to walk his comments back. “I mean–only…only if you want to–” 

“Well, it’s a long flight back and I hate airline food,” you interrupted him. “A proper dinner would be nice,” you said with a small smile.

Seconds later, you both break into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry…I’m not usually this bad,” he says apologetically, between laughs while slowly reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. 

“You did just fine,” you smiled as you walked into the elevator cab. “I promise I’ll leave it off your rating,” you teased as you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

“You like Italian food?” he asks, visibly relaxing.

“Eh, just bring me to a place that serves good galbi and I’m happy.”

“Perfect,” he says, beaming as the doors shut.

This was not the same man who made your stomach drop that day he showed up on the plane. That man was an illusion. A figment of what he thought women fantasize about. Admittedly, he was everything you thought a perfect guy would be. An unattainable expectation.

For a moment, a memory of your drunken night flashes in your mind.

Are you real?

Tonight, he sure felt and looked like it.

******

After a quick shower, you both pulled yourselves together in record time. Dressing in the same room, exchanging glances, watching as the other put an item of clothing on—while at the same time imagining taking it off later tonight.

He reaches for his tie and drapes it around his neck. As he grabbed either side, preparing to cross his hand over, you sauntered over and offered to tie it for him.

He knew how to tie his own tie. You’ve watched him do it in the last few days. Instead of declining, he releases his hold on the silky material, drops his hands at his sides, and lets you.

You just needed an excuse to be close to him. He watched amusingly while you carefully looped the material. It wasn’t long before you felt his hands snake up your sides, resting on your hips.

When you were ready, you held onto the knotted portion at the top and pulled at the bottom to tighten it around his neck. Once you got to the base of his neck and before you pulled it any tighter, you asked him, “Nice and tight?”

He smirked at you, remembering your little shoe-moment from the lobby a couple days ago. “Just the way I like it.”

You smiled back at him, folded his collar, securing the points to the buttons.

“Thank you,” he mouthed. “My pleasure,” you replied, sliding your hands slowly down his chest before wrenching away from him.

“Hold on,” he says darkly.

You turned back around to see him slowly advancing towards you. You arched an eyebrow at him in curiosity.

His arms snakes around your waist, pulling you back close to him again to kiss you.

When he pulls away, his hand is already making quick work of undoing his belt. “J-Jungkook, we need be downstairs in 15–”

“I know,” he interjects while pulling a condom out of his back pocket. “I just need 7 minutes–max.” He holds the packet between his teeth, hand already pulling up the hem of your skirt to slide his finger past your panties.

“Fuck it,” you muttered as you wiggled out of your panties, turning around for him and pulling your skirt up past your waist. You let out a low growl when you felt him shove his cock into you from behind.

******

Jimin eyed you both suspiciously when you stepped out of the elevator–with two minutes to spare. You and Jungkook giggled and exchanged looks during the whole ride to the restaurant. He decided that this was something that he didn’t need to ask to know what it was all about.

There was a short cocktail reception while staff finished setting up the banquet room for family and the wedding party. Compared to the week’s previous events, which included all guests, the rehearsal dinner was much more intimate and only included family, the wedding party, and their respective dates.

“Are you ready for the big day tomorrow, Tae? Nervous?”

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed his neck. “Not at all,” he says. “I’m…oddly very calm about everything.”

“Really?”

He nods in earnest. “Really. Is it wrong to feel that way?”

You laugh softly at him. “I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to feel. If you feel relaxed and assured–then that is the right feeling for you.”

“‘Assured.’ I like that word,” he says quietly.

“Have you written your vows?” Jungkook chimes in.

“I tried,” Taehyung says. “But–I feel like I’d rather just speak from the heart, you know? I know how I feel about Jennie and it’s hard for me to put all that into words because…that could all change.”

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Change in what way?”

“Oh, not like that,” he says with a laugh. “No–I mean…it’s kind of corny but each day that passes, I never love her the same way I did the previous day. I think that my love for her just grows and evolves. And tomorrow, when we’re standing face to face at that altar, I want to tell her how much I love her that day, right in that moment…rather than read off something that I’m not feeling anymore.” He finishes with one of his boxy smiles.

You stared at your brother in awe–eyes watering at how deeply he felt for his soon-to-be wife.

“Oh, Taehyungie,” your voice quavered as you hugged him.

“That’s…wow…I couldn’t have said it better myself, man.” Jungkook remarked.

You pulled away, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “Yes, seriously. My God! Jennie is one lucky woman.”

Taehyung gets all shy, shoving a hand in his pocket, and shrugs his shoulders. ”I’m marrying the girl of my dreams. Everything is…just the way it’s supposed to be. The only thing I wished I could change is–I wish I could marry her right this second,” he laughed.

“Well–it will come soon enough, Tyeongie,” you smiled at him.

“Do you want another drink, YN?”

“Uhh…just a club soda, please. I’d rather we get some food in first before I have another glass. I know for sure Mindi and Jiminie will want the alcohol flowing for karaoke later,” you mumbled.

He nodded. “Tae, can I get you anything?”

He declines, saying that he was good with his bottled water for now.

“Alright. I’ll be right back,” he smiled, giving you a quick peck on the lips before walking away.

Taehyung groaned. “At least Jiminie is in control of alcohol. He knows everyone’s limits–including dad,” he says.

You sighed. “He’s really been into the merriment this whole week,” you pointed out.

“Yeah,” he says in a low voice. “I’m just glad that he’s happy…he’s letting loose. Next week, he’s going back to his usual diet,” he chuckled.

“Well…he’s not getting any younger,” you say.

“True.” He then looks over your shoulder to find your dad calling him over. “Speaking of–I think he needs me. I’ll catch you in a few, ‘kay?’”

You smiled as he planted a kiss on your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you replied, watching him walk away.

You had all but a few seconds of quiet when you heard your name being called by a familiar voice.

You turned around to look. “Hi, Haru.”

“Hey,” he says quietly. “How’s your week going?”

Bit of a weird start to this conversation but you hoped it would be short and Jungkook would be back at your side soon. “Great! And you?”

He bobs his head in an awkward nod. “Pretty good. I feel like–this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a long time.”

You let out a dry laugh. “I guess you could say that. I’m…a bit preoccupied, as you can see.”

“Yes, I see that,” he says under his breath. He then shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “Listen, uhm…I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You gave him a wry smile. “About?”

He cleared his throat again. “You know how…one thinks that they have a good grasp on what you’re supposed to do and what you’re not supposed to do—but then…as it turns out, one discovers that it’s hard to discern between those things after some deep reflection and such…because…it’s…uhm…sorry, a-are you following?” he stuttered.

You grimaced then sighed in exasperation. “Haru, what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I…” he lets out a shallow breath. “I feel that I…I need to tell you—“

He stopped short as he watched your eyes shift away from him. You smiled as you looked over his shoulder and Jungkook came into view.

“YN, you’re not listening to me,” Haru mutters in frustration.

“Haru,” you cut him off, turning your attention back to him. “You know what? It doesn’t really matter,” you say dismissively.

“W-what?”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll admit, I brought Jungkook here, mainly to torture you…slowly. Make you feel how I felt all that time…”

His eyebrows knitted at you. “I—“

“It just made me realize that I’m so sick and tired of us now.” Your eyes flick over to Jungkook, who stood a few feet away. You smiled at him and he smiled back at you. “…And that I could do so much better.” 

You turn to Haru once more. “I hope you have a good rest of the night.” You pat him on the chest before sidestepping him to walk back toward Jungkook.

You stopped right in front of him as he regarded you. “Was he giving you trouble?”

“I handled it,” you said confidently.

“Are you alright?”

You took another step closer to him, pressing your body against his. You tilted your chin up at him. “I’m good. Better, actually,” you uttered.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says right before he meets you halfway and places a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Let’s go and take our seats?”

He nods and smiles while you walk towards your table hand-in-hand. You see him look back at Haru briefly. He looked lost and miserable. But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. You were ready to move forward with your life.

******

“Alright, alright—everyone!” Your dad taps on his champagne glass to call the room’s attention.

“I uh–ahem,” he coughed. “Sorry about that–” he coughed again.

“Oof. I apologize.” He struggled to take a deep breath as if trying to fill his lungs desperately.

He huffed then smiled again. “Alright, now I’m ready.”

The room laughs.

“I just wanted to thank you all for being here. The wedding party, our family and closest friends—to celebrate Jennie and Taehyung. You’ve all been very supportive of them from the beginning and it makes me happy to know that these two have a great support system going into their marriage.”

While you watch and listen to your dad, you lean back against Jungkook. He places a kiss on your bare shoulder and then on your hair before nuzzling into it.

“You need that in life. A great support system. Doesn’t necessarily have to be family…but just a group of people or a person who loves you for everything that you are…flaws and all. And you love them just the same.”

His words felt surreal. It made you turn your head to face Jungkook.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you smiled. “I’m just glad that you’re here with me.”

He smiled back. “Me, too.”

You leaned in and kissed him softly, before turning your attention back to the head of the table.

Whatever line you had drawn between you two, that was long gone even before you agreed to spend time with him after this trip. You knew that already but had only come to accept that fact now.

“And finally, to Jennie and Taehyung,” he turns to the couple.

“Take care of each other. And always remember, we love you both, from the bottom of our—“

Your dad stopped short, bulging his eyes out, mouth agape as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

Something was not right.

“Jae? Darling?” Your mom grabs his wrist.

He turned to her, white as a ghost before he collapsed to the floor. Your mom yelps as she tries to break his fall.

“Dad!” You and Taehyung exclaim simultaneously, scrambling to get to him.

“Dad, dad!” Taehyung taps on his cheek.

“Dad,” you squeeze his hand and his fingertips. They were cold as ice.

You knew he hadn’t been feeling well. All the drinking and binge-eating this week haven’t helped. He was happy, just being around family…he was in a celebratory mood. Perhaps he went a little too hard trying to keep up with everyone.

“Jungkook, Jungkook–please, please, help my dad–please!” Taehyung, on the verge of tears, begs him.

You glance at Jungkook and visibly panic–not just because of your dad possibly having suffered a stroke or a heart attack but because you remembered that you made up a cover story about your fake boyfriend being an actual doctor.

Fuck.

“Uh–T-Tae, we should call an–” you say in a rush but Jungkook already springs into action and is at your dad’s side in an instant. He straightens your dad’s arms and legs and makes sure that he’s flat on his back. He calls your dad’s name twice–no response. He taps on his collarbone a few times–no response. He puts his forefinger and middle and presses it to his neck to check for a pulse.

“He has a pulse but it’s weak,” he says. 

He looks up to your brother. “Taehyung, can you ask the staff if they have a defibrillator here?” While Taehyung runs off to find a staff member, Jungkook undoes his cuffs quickly and rolls them up, ripping your dad’s shirt open and tearing his undershirt down the middle with his bare hands.

“What medication is he on?” He asks you and your mom.

You were frozen and in shock, trying to figure out why he started asking about your dad’s medical history as if he would know what to do with it. Your mom quickly rattled off a list of your dad’s meds along with the dosage.

“Has he missed any of them this week? Some of those you have to take in tandem,” he says. 

“He…he told me did but said he took them as soon as he remembered,” your mom trailed off.

He nodded before turning his attention to you. “Baby, I need you to call an ambulance, now.”

His voice barely registers in your head but he reaches across to grab onto your wrist firmly, which knocks you back to the present. “YN–I need you to focus, please. Call an ambulance,” he says firmly.

You nod absently, getting up off the floor and retrieving your phone off the table to dial the emergency number.

You and everyone else watch in shock as Jungkook laces his fingers, placing them on your dad’s bare chest to start compressions. You are extremely befuddled and frozen on the spot as the whole scene unfolds in front of you.

You speak to the emergency dispatch operator, almost robotically as you watch Jungkook get to work. After confirming that an ambulance and first responders are on the way, they ask you to stay on the line to describe your dad’s condition.

Taehyung runs out with the restaurant manager, bringing the automated external defibrillator. “Here, they have one–”

“Okay–I need you–to continue compressions. Can you do that for me?” Jungkook asks Taehyung in between counts.

“Yeah, I-I mean, yes–” Taehyung answers shakily as he kneels down to take over Jungkook, taking over CPR, showing him the correct rhythm of compressions.

Once Taehyung gets the hang of it, Jungkook opens the AED case and glances up at you –wide-eyed with your mouth agape.

He grimaces internally, thinking he’d explain this all to you once he’s at least helped stabilize your dad or when emergency first responders arrive–whichever comes first.

Jungkook pulls out the pads from the case while the AED pack gives automated voice prompts–which he ignores because it looked like he didn’t need further instructions. He encourages Taehyung to continue chest compressions. 

He peels the protective backing on each pad and carefully sticks them on your dad’s chest–one right below his right shoulder and on his left side.

Evaluating heart rhythm… the machine prompts.

“Okay, Taehyung, stand back,” Jungkook holds his arms out. “Stand clear.” He says loudly–not just for you and your mom but for everyone in the room to hear.

Stand by. Preparing to shock.

“Clear!” He says again.

Do not touch the patient.

“Clear!”

Delivering shock.

Jungkook puts his hands up as the machine beeps loudly several times, making you flinch as you watch in horror.

Shock delivered. Provide chest compressions and rescue breaths.

He tilts your dad’s chin up and resumes chest compressions. After he blows into your dad’s mouth he shifts and continues compressions again. Not long after, your dad lets out an audible gasp of air–which you, Taehyung, and your mother let out as well.

Moving quickly, Jungkook puts him in a recovery position, rolling him on his left side with one leg bent, an arm across his chest while the other is on his cheek to keep his airway open.

“You’re gonna be okay…you’ll be okay…help is coming. Just hang in there,” he whispers to your dad. Your mom rests her hand on your dad’s leg and lets out a sob.

Just then, emergency personnel rush in, telling everyone to clear the way as they attend to your dad. Jungkook rises as the EMTs take over. As you comfort your mother, you watch him fill in the lead, letting her know that an electric shock was deployed but that he still had to do chest compressions afterward. You also thought that he vaguely mentioned the word ‘tachycardia’ and that your dad will probably need ‘push epi.’ These were terms that you’ve only heard in medical dramas.

Since your mother was distraught, Jungkook beckons Taehyung to give them a rundown of your dad’s medical history. You watch as a second EMT injects your dad with the ‘epi’ that Jungkook referred to. Seconds later, your dad blinks his eyes open.

You, Taehyung, and your mom rush to him but the EMT warns you not to crowd him as he could be destabilized at any point before he gets to the hospital.

The other EMT asks who would like to ride along in the ambulance. There was only room for one.

“Ma, you should go,” you urged her. She was on autopilot. You’d never seen her this frantic before.

She nods absently while the EMTs roll the gurney through the room. While you all follow them out of the restaurant, you vaguely hear Jungkook’s conversation with the EMT as you pass them.

The lead EMT turns back to Jungkook. “Hey, would you like to ride along with us, too? Maybe it would comfort him to have someone who’s family and a professional as well.”

“Ah, thanks for the offer. I have to go see my girl first but I’m sure he’s in great hands now.”

“Alright. Thanks for getting to him quickly. He should feel very lucky that you were there,” they utter before shaking his hand.

He nods, mouthing something inaudible.

You walk with your mom, Taehyung, and Jennie following behind. You watch them load the stretcher to the back of the ambulance followed by your mom climbing up.

The EMT connects your dad to a few monitors hooked up in the ambulance to monitor his vitals. 

He blinks lazily at you and Taehyung, slowly tapping himself right above his chest. It was his sign of telling you both that he’d be okay.

The second EMT shuts the doors and tells you which hospital they would be transporting him to before hopping into the driver seat and heading out.

As the sound of the sirens fades away, Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair. “Shit…uh—I uh, have dad’s spare keys to the Jag back at the hotel. Do you want to come with me to the hospital?” He asks you.

“Uh…” You look at Jennie, who’s in shock, wondering if she’d rather go to comfort Taehyung.

“Yeah, you and Tae should go. I’ll stay with my parents and let everyone know what’s going on,” she says.

You nodded absently. “O-okay. You’re sure?”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll ask Mindi to help me get everyone settled.”

You felt bad that Jennie had to deal with this on the night before her wedding. No bride would ever dream that something like this could or would happen. But she was trying to put on a brave face for Taehyung.

“Do you and Tae want to take one of the shuttles back to the hotel to get your dad’s car? I’m sure we can try to squeeze everyone into the other or–”

“Or some of us can wait a bit, too–for a second trip back,” Jungkook interrupts quietly as he joins you all by the front.

You almost forgot about his heroic efforts minutes ago.

“I can help round up everyone, Jennie, if you want?” She nodded in gratitude.

Just then, Taehyung rushes to him and hugs him tightly. “Thank you, Jungkook.” He lets out a sob.

“I just did what I had to do,” Jungkook mutters.

When Taehyung pulls away, he turns to you once more. “You want to head out soon, YN?”

“Y-yeah, I just need to talk to Jungkook for a second, if that’s okay. I won’t take long, I promise.”

Taehyung nods and walks off with Jennie.

When you were alone, you turned to Jungkook. “Sorry, let me ex–” You threw your hands up around him before he could finish–which took him completely by surprise. You sob into his chest as he rubs your back to comfort you.

“Hey…hey…” he says soothingly in your ear. “He’ll be okay. We got to him quickly. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” He wasn’t actually sure of that but he wanted to comfort you so badly.

You pull away from him. “Oh my god–if…if you weren’t there–I don’t…I don’t know–” you sobbed.

“Sshh…He’ll be fine. They just need to run some tests. The EMTs said that we acted fast and that makes a huge difference in situations like this,” he says, wiping your tears away.

“But…how? H-how did you…d-did you take CPR classes? Have you watched a lot of medical dramas?”

You watched as his face changed. He caught his lips with his teeth–considering his answer. “So…I’ve been meaning to tell you earlier–before we got interrupted…you know, when you asked about my day job?”

“A-and?” The suspense was killing you.

“I’m…a doctor,” he says slowly, his lips twisting in a wry smile.

Then your jaw dropped.

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[gideon-ix]

Nona Identity Conspiracy Theory #5098372038

I haven’t seen anyone else make this joke(?) about who Nona is - I mean, it started as a joke, at least.

But consider: we can be fairly certain Nona is in Harrow’s body, and they’re apparently trying to figure out who she is (most likely between Gideon and Harrow, all things considered, and especially with the Ass Jokes Thing lol).

Four things to consider, now:

1. They seem to be thinking of this as a definitive “either/or”. The joke tally, etc., and some comments they make, seem to make this pretty clear.

2. Pal has somehow gone from living in a skull/hand to residing in Cam’s body. He also transferred his own soul into that skull, initially. Pyrrha also was independent enough of G1deon that since his death (?) she’s got the body - probably a Gideon-And-Harrow type situation, sans lobotomy. So this lil group has the ability to keep souls independent, and transfer them back and forth into bodies AND objects, and what that’s like/how it manifests.

3. Nona’s inner monologue mentions her childhood, which is particularly interesting:

“ Palamedes had soft cool eyes of brownish grey, like bare ground in the cold mornings when Nona had been little,”

4. We have those little bits of second person poking through, as some people have pointed out. What I’ve kinda noticed about those is the nature of them: almost instructional about how to behave/consequences of mistakes, or referential to essential information about who you can trust or what people are like, etc.:

“ Her fingers fumbled a little with the vest, but she was fine pulling on the UV sand shirt, even with arranging the cuffs, which could be complicated and if you got it wrong you had to stand in the bath to take it off again in showers of yellow dirt.”

“There was a baby wailing in morning-related outrage a few apartments away, so Nona walked on the balls of her feet to not add to the noise. The people underneath hated it if you walked loudly,”

“ She could not even make out a letter, not of any alphabet she’d ever been shown, which interested everyone except herself. But you could always trust Cam.”

“[P]eople noticed your hair growing less when it was already long, Camilla said. Camilla and Pyrrha both got to have short hair, which she envied. Cam’s was dark brown and bobbed off sharply at the chin and it felt nice against your cheek,”

“Coffee, Nona?” even though she always said, “No, but thank you”—Palamedes liked giving you options—and he even waited until she said, “No, but thank you” before he poured the boiling water twice.”

“In their absence Nona considered the eggs. They were a uniform yellow colour, with dusty black flecks of pepper. You were allowed to put as much thin, fiery red sauce on them as you liked,”

So where am I going with this? I’ll use the alphabet this time so I can refer to the numbers:

A. Gideon and Harrow’s souls were maybe all...wonky? post HtN. Muddled up enough that while they were separate, it was hard to tell the difference. We at least get The Pool Scene, and what seems to be Harrow’s perspective, but there are a couple oddities, which indicate some sort of ‘scramble’ here, maybe between Gideon and Harrow?:

“I like it. I like the water, I like her hands.”

“Her hands?”

“They’re the things around me—maybe they’re my hands.”

B. Anyway. So Camillades, or whatever spelling we’re all going with, maybe opted to Science It. Split ‘em up, and just figure out one. But do we have quite enough function from this one now that it’s been isolated? Proooooobably not. Homebrew lobotomy and all.

C. So we (Camillades) need a soul that functions as a living being, but is distinct enough from Harrow or Gideon. The more distinct, the better.

D. At this point, we cannot forget the summary: 

“In many ways, Nona is like other people. She lives with her family, has a job at her local school, and loves walks on the beach and meeting new dogs. But Nona’s not like other people. Six months ago she woke up in a stranger’s body, and she’s afraid she might have to give it back.”

E. And another essential individual, who we have not seen in the preview, but we know about via the cover of the book, and the Dramatis Personae:

“Noodle, king of dogs in secret, white-adjacent, small sized, six legs”

F. At this point, you may see vaguely where I am going with this. Because here is the joke theory I propose:

G. Nona is Harrow and Noodle in Harrow’s body. H. And Gideon is in Noodle.

I. Here’s my overall logic:

A dog’s soul would be pretty damn distinct from a human soul. 

“Loves walks on the beach and meeting new dogs” sounds like...well, a dog. 

A dog would need a few reminders on How To Human, and What Is Expected Of A Decent Human, 

And providing those? VERY Harrow, I think? I don’t know that Gideon would give a fuck lol.

One of these is, apparently, putting on clothes properly. Specifically “arranging the cuffs”, which leads me to -

“The things around me” as a description of hands? Dogs don’t have hands, so maybe the description thereof got weird when being conveyed to Camilla. And it’d explain some of the weird issues with ‘arranging the cuffs’, although that’s stretching it a bit maybe, lol.

“She could not even make out a letter, not of any alphabet she’d ever been shown, which interested everyone except herself.” Dogs, of course, cannot read, but Pyrrha and Camillades would probably have expected that whoever’s Human Soul is in there would take over for that part?

Camilla’s hair “felt nice against your cheek” - other than some of the ‘Nona has a crush on Camilla’ vibes here, this would be a brand new sensation for a dog. 

As for why a dog for this specifically? If you put Harrow in a dog’s body, that would be a VERY weird dog. Very distinct from how dogs usually are, and let’s be real here, this would be a nightmare scenario combination between a dog (loves bones) and an osseo (we do bones, motherfucker)

Gideon, however, would probably fit right in as a dog.

Nona is very attached to Noodle, it seems. King Of Dogs, and all that. Why? Maybe some undercurrent of the whole “I am undone without you” thing. 

Noodle has 6 legs. Maybe some Bones were used to help transplant the soul. Or maybe the world is just fucked up and we wound up with a dog with 6 whole leggys. The latter is more likely, but the other dogs seem to be perfectly ordinary 4-leggy dogs.

Dog soul: would prioritize Dogs for birthday party invite. 

YOU WILL LOVE NONA, AND NONA LOVES YOU. Doggo confirmed.

But also Harrow, because of latent memories. The Pool Scene - and the thing about soil “when Nona was little”. 

And we can’t forget that Harrow was pretty little when all that Wild Shit happened with her parents, and she probably didn’t really go outside in the mornings much, anymore.

(Gideon did, though, if I remember correctly. Talking to the skeletons, wondering if any of them were her mom, etc etc., plus training, etc...I don’t think she would classify cold morning soil as a “when she was little” sort of thing.)

Anyway. Like I said, this started as a joke theory, and is still a joke theory, but like...I don’t even know anymore. I’m finishing this writeup during a combat session in one of my D&D games, because that’s where my life is at. 

I will leave you with a requisite “Nona loves you” - regardless of who Nona turns out to be. And feel free to rip this apart, I love all the theories, I know I’ve forgotten stuff, etc etc. 

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’) 

Prompt:  Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.  

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.  

*

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

*

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.  

[page150]

Not A Friend - (Sister to Oscar "Spooky" and César Díaz)

Request: "i was wondering if u could do a fic where oscar and cesar have a teen sister and she’s sexually assaulted and tells oscar??"

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Guns, Cursing

A/N: I usually don't do a author's note before the imagine, but this is a sensitive topic so if this might be triggering please click away.

Y/N - Your Name f/c - favorite color

Y/N sat quietly in her room, reading a book, illuminated by a white lamp sitting on her dresser.

Outside her brother, Oscar laughed with some men and her other brother, César had left a while ago on another adventure with his friends, leaving Y/N by herself in her room. Placing the book down, she moved the curtains away from her window. She looked at the gathering of Santos socializing in the backyard. Red solo cups in hand, dancing and eating. She remembered how Oscar had let her help decorate the backyard for the party only to be later excluded from it. Looking at him laughing with a with his arm around someone she betted that he had forgotten that she was inside.

She had gotten used to being forgotten and treated differently by people. Ever since she was born her brothers didn’t know what to do with her. Oscar had never expected to have to raise a brother by himself and especially not a sister. Even though she was only a year younger than César, Oscar's idea of keeping her safe was keeping her hidden.

She was only allowed to go straight to school then straight home, never alone either. If César or Monse weren’t going to a place neither was Y/N and that’s how it always was. She was especially not allowed to hang out with any of Oscar's friends, making life extremely lonely.

Glancing at a photo that was taped next to the window, she smiled at herself situated between Jasmine and Monse with Jamal, Ruby and César in the back. César’s friends were nice, but they were his friends not hers. He was the one invited to all their parties. He was the one they had tried to save, not her.

This left school to be the only place Y/N could socialize, but no one wanted to be friends with a girl from a gang. She was labeled dangerous before anything else, leaving her by herself. Always forgotten, and always alone.

That night she went to sleep feeling sorry for herself and woke up the same way. It continued the next few days until one day when while sitting in her algebra class, a new student was introduced. He was placed next to her and, ignoring the strange looks the class gave to him, he introduced himself.

“I’m Luke. Can I sit here?”

Y/N looked up at the blond haired boy. Her table partner had moved schools a few months ago and no one bothered to sit with her since. He looked nice, he had a nice smile and it made her want to lower her guard slightly, “Yeah, you can sit here.”

Luke sat next to her and immediately tried to start a conversation. He talked about how he moved from Florida. She noticed, as they talked more, how similar they were. They both had interesting families. He had two brothers, she had two brothers and they both lived near each other.

Y/N found herself laughing more than usual at his jokes. This led to the teacher having to stop class multiple times to scold them. Y/N never had a connection to someone like this, especially not on the first day. At lunch Luke went to sit with with her and -

“Who’s this?” César asked, suddenly sitting down at the lunch table next to his sister and wrapping an arm around her. Jamal, Ruby, and Monse also sat down. The table that previously consisted of two people quickly turned to six. Other kids nearby, eyed the two “dangerous” siblings sitting together.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the unexpected attention that was now forming. “This is Luke, he’s new.”

“Lukeee,” César trailed, “I’m Y/N’s older brother-”

“By a few months,” Y/N butted in.

“Whatever, I’m César, these are my friends Jamal, Ruby and my girl Monse.”

Monse laughed, “I’m not your girl.”

“Not yet,” César winked.

Y/N sighed and threw César’s arm off her. She turned to Elliot and apologized.

“Sorry for them.”

“No they’re cool,” Luke grinned. “Any friend of mine is my friend as well.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “We’re friends now? It’s only been a day.”

“Of course, you’re cool.”

With the compliment Y/N cheeks turned red. As childish as it was, having an established friendship with someone made her feel nice.

“This must be how César and Oscar feel all the time.” She thought.

“I don’t know if Oscar will like you having a friend that is a boy.” Ruby remarked. “No offense, Luke.”

“None taken.”

“Oscar doesn’t like anyone anyways.” Monse muttered, taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Don’t worry” Luke smiled, “I’m one of the good guys.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jamal said suspiciously. He leaned in close to Luke’s face and gave him some crazy faces.

“Okay, great talk guys,” Y/N said sarcastically, “I would love to chat with you more but lunch is about to end and I have to show Luke where his next class is. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah I have to go, but it was nice meeting you guys.” Luke stated, before he was dragged away by Y/N.

The next few weeks Y/N spent all her time with Luke. He sat next to her in the classes they shared, they talked at lunch and while walking home after school. They even stayed up at night so they could talk on the phone. She found herself smiling every time he talked to her. Every time he offered to carry her books. He was just so nice.

One Friday afternoon, Luke came running up to Y/N, putting her items in her backpack after her last class. He put his hands around her eyes, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Guess who?”

“Mrs. Kurt, I told you we can't see each other here.” Y/N whispered.

Luke removed his hands and his face went white. Y/N turned around and started crying with laughter. She had to sit down, her face turning bright red as she continued to laugh, gasping for air.

“I don’t even want to think about you dating my mom.” He trembled, before returning to his cheerful self. “Stop laughing, I have important news. There’s a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Y/N stopped laughing and thought about it before responding. “I don’t know. I don’t think Oscar would want me to. You know how he is about stuff like that.”

Luke smiled and picked her backpack off the floor. He then put out his hand and helped Y/N to her feet.

“Which is why César and his friends already said they are coming too. Oscar doesn’t have to know you're going as my date.”

“Your date?”

“If you want to be. I want you to be my date.”

Y/N smiled, a pink blush covering her cheeks. “I can be your date.”

“Great,” He took her hand and began to lead her out of the classroom. “It’s going to be amazing, don't worry.”

That night Y/N drank water out of a red solo cup, while sitting on the couch of a kid she had never met before. This time she was the one laughing and partying. Colors flashed around the room as more and more kids came into the house. The air was foggy with smoke and smelt like a mash of perfumes and colognes. Y/N nodded her head to the music enjoying the energy in the room.

To her surprise Luke pulled her up to dance with him. She giggled feeling his hands go around her waist. She put her arms around his neck just like she saw in the movies. Rap was blasting out of speakers placed on the ground. Somewhere someone joked about getting a noise compliment to which the crowd began shouting the rap lyrics louder. Taunting the idea, almost hoping for it so the party could gain extra excitement. Y/N shouted along with them in bliss. Ignoring the past fear she had felt once she noticed César had left. Ignoring the looks she had gotten when she first walked in the party. Ignoring how Luke had moved his hands past the dip in her back...

When she felt his hands squeeze her butt she whispered for him to stop which he did, but she still felt weird. A sinking feeling sat in her gut that this was a mistake. Suddenly the small action made the party feel like too much now. She could smell the stink of alcohol on Luke’s breath and weirdly on herself as well. How did she get drunk?

Y/N moved from Luke to where she had placed her cup. Now she could see scribbled on with a black sharpie, someone else’s name. She must have grabbed the wrong cup sometime during the party. Swaying slightly, she moved back toward Luke.

“I need to go home,” She hiccuped. “I drank someone's drink.”

In the darkness she didn’t see Luke’s small smile. “Wow, I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

The two exited the party and began to walk home. Y/N felt more tipsy as she walked, eventually having to lean on the blond boy. She didn’t feel really drunk, she could still tell what was happening, it was just her body felt a little out of balance. Luke seemed the same way, but before they reached Y/N house he grabbed her hips. The sudden movement left her in shock.

“You looked really nice tonight, babe.” He said, pulling her into a kiss as he ran his hands on her back, slowly moving lower onto her butt, then up to her breasts.

Immediately Y/N pushed Luke off of her, moving to wrap her arms around herself. “What the hell? I’m a Santo, pull that shit again and it's over” She yelled, backing away from Luke.

“Like you would, I’m the only one who cares enough to pay attention to you. Do you really think anyone else wants to be around you? I’ll do whatever I want. You would be an idiot to lose me.” He fumed.

Y/N froze. Luke had never acted like that before. He couldn’t truly mean what he was saying. She ran into her house and locked the door behind her. She waited a few minutes to check that he had left, which he did.

After her shower she convinced herself that Luke must have been really drunk. That’s why he acted that way, but on Monday he proved that that was not the case.

At the beginning of algebra it started off okay. Luke kept his eyes on the board and focused on his work. It was okay up to the point where he started rubbing on Y/N's leg. She told him to stop but he ignored her. First rubbing small circles on her knee. Then moving up to her thigh moving closer and closer upwards. No matter how many times she moved his hand he kept putting it back. Eventually she had to stay quiet out of fear of distracting the class, but he kept going. She begged silently for it to stop. Suddenly feeling powerless as he continued to do as he pleased for more days.

At lunch even though Luke continued to joke with César she started to go silent. It was a constant internal battle. If she pushed Luke away more, it would cause her to lose her only friend. If she didn’t she would continue to feel uncomfortable. She told herself it would stop eventually, that things would go back to normal, but they didn’t.

As more days went by Luke tried to do more things. The more he tried to do the quieter Y/N got. But luckily César began to notice. He noticed that Y/N wanted him to sit between her and Luke more. How she stopped laughing at his jokes and how Luke changed his tone when talking to her. It wasn’t always playful like it used to be.

Even though César wasn’t really close to his sister he acknowledged that they had to look out for each other. Y/N had been the one to get Oscar to let him back in the house many times. She looked out for him, and he had to look out for her.

Which is why when César and Monse accidentally walked in on Luke kissing her in an empty classroom while she tried to push him off, he freaked out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted, pulling Luke off of her and close to his face by the collar of his shirt. “I'm Lil’ Spooky I’ll have your face in the dirt if you do that shit again.”

“César, stop what are you doing here. You’re going to hurt him.” Y/N yelled. Monse gently pulled her away from Luke, but she pushed Monse back.

César punched Luke in the eye and he fell down, crumbling into a fetal position. César continued to kick him in the stomach until Y/N pulled him away.

“You’re hurting him! You can’t do this here! César stop please!”

César turned and grabbed Y/N's arm. He led her out of the classroom and out of the school with Monse trailing after them. Y/N’s items in hand.

“I can’t believe he was on you like that. Shit, Y/N. Wait, don't cry, don’t cry, it's okay.”

Y/N hadn’t realized she was crying until he said that. Tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks. She choked back sobs, trying to keep herself somewhat together.

She was thankful for César stopping it, but afraid for what would happen next. Once they reached their house César guided her up the stairs and inside where Oscar was smoking a cigarette at the dinner table. Hearing the door burst open and crying he instantly got up. He reached for his gun, but seeing that it was his siblings he stopped.

“Shit, what the hell happened César. Why is she crying?”

“Tell him,” César said softly. Monse ran in and went to Y/N’s side pulling her into a hug.

“Tell me what. Why are you crying?”

“He 's not mad at you hermana. Él va a ayudar.”

Y/N sniffled and buried herself into Monse’s shoulder. Trying to hide her embarrassment she whispered, “My friend at school was touching me in a weird way, Oscar. He wouldn’t stop. I told him to stop, though. I did. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

“We’re not mad at you and he’s not a friend anymore, Y/N. That should’ve never happened to you.” Monse murmured.

The room went silent. Monse still slowly rubbed Y/N’s back and César stood tense. Oscar looked from César to Y/N.

“César, do you think he left school yet?”

“Uh yeah, school ended right after I pulled her out.”

“Come on,” Oscar grabbed his gun and began to walk out the door, César following after. Y/N ran after Oscar begging for him to stop.

“Don’t Oscar, don’t hurt hm. He’s my only friend. He’s a kid, it was just a mistake.”

“No no!” He shouted. Oscar turned and placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulder’s. Looking into her teary eyes.

“It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault hermana. My job is to keep you safe. I've failed at a lot of things, but I refuse to fail at that again. Get in the house and rest. He just needs to be taught a lesson. Stay with Monse. Te amo como una hija bebé espeluznante.”

He left with César, leaving Y/N on the lawn. Monse guided her back into the house. She remembered what her dad did whenever she was going through a lot. She treated Y/N the same way. Reassuring her that it will be okay. That it wasn’t her fault.

César and Oscar didn’t come back until later that night.

“We got you this,” Oscar muttered, walking into the house and tossing a stuffed bear to Y/N. “We saw the idea online.” It was a f/c bear with a heart on it that said ‘Te Quiero’ with little messages César and Oscar wrote on the back. There weren't a lot, but the few ones there were were heartfelt.

“Thank you, I love it” Y/N smiled, holding the bear close. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying.

“And pizza,” César quietly cheered. On his face was a bandage, but he moved his face so Y/N couldn’t see it. “Monse do you want to spend the night?”

Monse looked at Y/N, “Yeah I already have clothes here so I’ll stay,”

She picked up a slice of pizza. “Soo, what did you guys do?”

“We took care of it,” Oscar said, sitting on the couch next to Y/N. “He won’t mess with you again. If I didn’t have a reputation I would’ve reported it.” He lowered his voice. “You can always go to us Y/N, we’re going to protect you. If that cabrón messes with you again I’m coming for him. ”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. “I just wanted a friend, how dumb is that.”

“You can always hang out with us,” Monse added, “We’re your friends. We love having you around.”

Y/N sighed, “I mean my own friend. I love you guys too, but it gets so lonely. No one at school wants to be near me. Soy un marginado.”

The room went silent again. Before Monse spoke up, “You know you’re really smart Y/N. There’s a school in BrentWood that might offer you a scholarship to go there. I know you could pass the entrance exam. ”

“I could get a job for the tuition,” César added, rising from his seat at the dinner table. “Oscar what do you think? You’ve been making more money lately. It would keep her safe. She is really smart.”

Oscar looked at the ceiling, a good sign that he was thinking about the idea. Y/N kept her mouth shut, trying not to get too excited.

“How would she get there?”

“It’s a long bus ride,” Monse remarked, “But it’s safe. Only a bunch of rich kids. Most of them will be nice to you, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re strong. Not a lot of them are like that there. No one will know who you're related to. I can get my mom to help get you in.”

César, Monse, and Y/N looked at Oscar. He took a deep breath and released it. Pulling a cigarette out his pocket, he lit it. Breathing deep he puffed out the smoke.

“I failed you today as a hermano, if I can keep you safe I will. I’ll work on getting you there.”

Y/N smiled and hugged Oscar, feeling César join as well.

“Thank you Oscar. Thank you Cesar. Thank you Monse. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah” Oscar grinned. “Get off me I’m going to bed. I think I’ll go to the beach tomorrow. Want to come?”

“Yes!”

Author's Note: My DMs are always open to anyone who needs it. I am also on twitter to anyone who wants to talk @/thepage150. Requests are open. You are important. You are valued. You are loved. Have a wonderful day ~c'k

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Turn Your Luck

Summary: After a day filled with bad luck and a series of unfortunate events, Natasha manages to turn your day around

Pairing: Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None

Words: 6,167

When you woke up in the morning and smacked your big toe off your bed frame, you didn't even think twice of it. It sent a jolt all throughout your foot, but after a few swear words, you were already feeling a little better. You didn't bother making the bed you'd just stood up out of. All your life you'd reasoned that it wouldn't be 24 hours before you just messed it up again. You grabbed a towel and moved into the bathroom. The hot shower made you forget all about the sore toe you'd been sporting only a moment earlier.

You were feeling great when you stepped out of the shower. The warm water had always instilled comfort into your very bones even this early in the morning. You wiped some of the condensation off the mirror to brush your teeth. The tube of toothpaste was completely empty, and the drawer where you usually kept the new ones was also barren. You rolled your eyes at your own irresponsibility, before brushing your teeth without any toothpaste and then using some mouthwash to try and compensate for it. You stepped out of the bathroom.

You got dressed in your favourite white shirt and black pants before making your way into the kitchen. You tossed your phone onto the counter as you passed it on the way to the small kitchen table. You were after the fruit bowl, which was already needing a refill. There were still a few apples left, though, and you were expecting to have one for breakfast. You were mistaken. You pulled the empire apple out of the blue bowl to find the bottom had grown immensely soft and was clearly not in any condition to be eaten. You were disappointed but tossed it into the compost bin and moved on.

Humming a soft tune as you moved, you popped a pod into the single-serve coffee maker and pressed start. You were moving toward the fridge in no time when a strange noise caught your attention. You whirled to face the coffee maker. Instead of the steady stream of coffee you usually got, it was spraying the hot liquid like it was a shaken pop can. You jumped behind the small island, using it as a shield. Thankfully, you'd managed to keep your white shirt safe from the wrath of the coffee. When it stopped, you finally dared step back into the kitchen. The dark liquid was dripping down every nearby surface. You huffed, running some paper towel across the biggest surfaces quickly.

You gave up on the coffee. It seemed you weren't going to get it anyway. You glared at the machine as if it had intentionally smitten you. Instead, you reached into the fridge instead and poured a glass of orange juice for yourself. You sipped it before setting it back onto the countertop. When your phone buzzed and indicated an incoming message, you reached for it. Your elbow hit your glass and it fell onto its side. The orange liquid spilled off the counter and into your white shirt. You gave the mess the middle finger, tossing a dishtowel on it to soak it up, with the intention of actually cleaning it after work. You already had to clean the coffee up anyway.

Any attempt at breakfast was abandoned. After the three kitchen incidents combined, you were convinced you'd be better off heading to some drive-thru on the way to work. Now in a new blue shirt, you grabbed your bag and headed out your front door. You unlocked your car, slid into the driver's seat, and hit the ignition. The car sputtered for a few seconds, before refusing to start. You tried again, and then again, before groaning, taking out your frustration on the steering wheel in front of you. You stood up and stepped back out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you with much more force than necessary.

Then, it was off to the bus stop. You headed down the sidewalk to the nearest one, pulling out your phone as you walked so you could check your app to find out when the next bus was coming. When you saw big red letters informing you that the bus was halted until further notice, though, you had to refrain from throwing your phone hard into the concrete. You supposed you should have had a little sympathy for those in the accident that had halted your bus, but you couldn't find it in yourself right then. Your morning was not going well.

It was a good thing you hadn't smashed your phone against the sidewalk. It was the only thing you could use to get you to work now. You switched apps and ordered an Uber to come to pick you up. When the driver arrived, you climbed into the back seat and gave him the address of your place of work. He nodded and pressed his foot down on the gas. Your eyes had been glued on your phone, but your gaze flickered at the driver's movement. He was adjusting the mirror and you were absolutely sure he'd angled it to face you a little better. You could have puked when you realized the creep was checking you out. You didn't say anything, at this point just wanting to get to work and be done with it.

You practically sprinted into the building when you arrived. Security didn't seem to mind your rush, having seen your face every day for over three years anyway. You hopped up the stairs two at a time, faster than the elevator would have been able to carry you anyway. When you reached the meeting room door you took a few seconds to catch your breath, not wanting to seem too flustered in your professional environment. When you finally pushed the door open, everyone was rising to their feet. Their eyes all darted up to glance at you. You smiled sheepishly.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry." That was honest. You might have been frustrated, but you hadn't wanted to inconvenience any of your coworkers as well. "I've really had a rough morning."

Your boss nodded. "We've all had those days. I'll send you an email and give you a summary."

You thanked him and left the meeting room with everyone else. You trudged into your office, throwing your bag to the floor, and refraining from slamming the door behind you. You collapsed into your office chair and closed your eyes for a brief moment. But you didn't have time for that. The paperwork on your desk needed your attention. You gave it. The hours you spent on all the files, emails, and documents were the smoothest thing that had happened all day, even if it was mind-numbingly boring and felt absolutely endless. It might have been smooth sailing, but it didn't brighten your spirits at all.

When your phone rang, you reached out blindly until you felt your hand come in contact with it. You shuffled it until it was upright in your hand. You were so completely absorbed in the document that was displayed on your computer screen that you didn't even bother to look at your phone as you fumbled to slide the answer bar. Only when the incessant ringing had finally ceased did you know you'd successfully answered the call. You hesitated before you slowly raised the phone to your ear, eyes still scanning the lines in front of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hun."

Immediately you regretted not checking the caller ID before answering the phone. You could have kicked yourself. In fact, the move was so ridiculously and incredibly stupid that you could have beaten yourself to a pulp. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, completely unwelcome, and not a surprise after having the day that you were having. You turned away from the screen, resting your elbow on the desk and massaging the migraine that was beginning to form in your forehead. You sighed heavily, sure she heard it.

"Hi," you stated. "What?"

"Hun-"

"Please stop calling me that, I already asked you."

You had asked her that. Multiple times. You'd broken up months ago after she'd broken your heart. Catching her in bed with someone else had left you shattered and unsure if you could trust anyone. You'd been okay for a couple months now after some comfort and reassurance from your best friend, who you were having dinner with tonight. You glanced at the time. Your attention was unfortunately brought back to the girl on the phone, though, when she sighed your name as if she were the one who was hurt. She had no right to be hurt.

"I just-"

"I'm working," you finally said bluntly. "Is it urgent?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I... I can call you tomorrow."

You wanted to snap and tell her not to bother, but you didn't. You just nodded despite her not being able to see it, said goodbye, and hung up. Once more you were faced with the urge to smash the stupid phone. Once more you fought it, instead shoving it into a drawer so you could ignore it and work on the mountains of paperwork you had to get through before your six o'clock reservations. You got back to it. Soon enough, the information was able to push your ex far from your mind. You didn't want to think about her anyway.

It felt like it had been eons since you'd arrived at work, and yet, according to the clock in the corner of your screen, you still had over an hour until your reservation. You might have slammed your head down onto the desk in front of you had two things not stopped you. The first was the migraine that was still throbbing in your head, and the second was the ringing of your office phone. Even though you knew she couldn't call you on here, you checked the caller ID before you picked up this time. It was the front desk.

"Hey, Tamara. What's up?

"There's someone here for you. She said you're going to miss your reservations."

"Reservations? It's only 4:45."

Tamara hesitated. "Daylight savings. It's 5:45."

You had entirely forgotten about that and even if you hadn't, you would have expected the computer would auto-update something like that. But you had forgotten, and the computer hadn't jumped forward, and now you were going to be late, and you still hadn't turned in the file that you'd promised to turn in today. You groaned in frustration, but transferred the file to a flash drive, shoved it into your bag, and left your office. Clearly, everyone else had remembered the time change, as the office was empty.

You cursed all of your coworkers in your head. You made for the elevator. When you stepped on and hit the button to bring you down to the lobby, you actually crossed your fingers. With your luck, all of the cables on the elevator would snap and you'd plummet all the way to the parking garage and die in a fiery explosion. Thankfully, your little gesture of luck seemed to work, for the doors slid open safe and sound in the lobby. As you stepped out, though, your bag hit the door, and the company ID snapped off and slipped in that tiny little crack between the elevator and the floor and out of sight. You cursed loudly.

You didn't dare shine your flashlight down the crack to try and see how far it'd gone; either your phone would have gone down after it out the doors would have slammed shut on either side of your skull. Neither of those things were a chance you were willing to take. You abandoned your ID and continued to the front desk, letting Tamara know what had happened. She nodded in understanding before pointing out your best friend, who had come to collect you after you'd let her know this morning that you'd taken an Uber to work. You approached her and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey," she said brightly.

"Hey, Nat."

Natasha Romanoff was the best thing to happen to you all day. She was your very best friend. Too, maybe you wanted her to be a little more. She was the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid eyes on, the red waves on her head only accentuating her emerald green irises, which sparkled when she smiled at you. That was only her physical beauty. Though she was, to most everyone that knew her, a tough, scary Avenger, you knew it was a façade. Natasha was the kindest, most generous, selfless, and caring person you'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Tamara tells me you forgot about daylight saving time started last night."

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"Irritable because you lost an hour of sleep?"

"Nat," you said, already feeling bad for snapping at her. You rubbed your head. "I'm not having the greatest of days."

That was how your friendship with Nat was. You both understood that not every day was a good day. She tried to convince you not to compare, but you especially understood that. Natasha had been through hell on Earth when she was a child and you wished with every fibre of your heart that you could bear some of that for her. But you couldn't, and you were sure that if you could have, she wouldn't let you. So instead, you understood the bad days, and in turn, she did too. When you stated that today was one of those days, she turned to you with concern sparkling in those beautiful eyes.

"You okay?" She asked.

Your heart fluttered when her hand took yours.

It was a friendly gesture, of course, but you couldn't help but wish it otherwise. You wanted to hold her hand and have it not be just as a friend. You wanted to be able to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeeze her hand tight and feel that constant touch against her. You didn't want it to be friendly, you wanted it to be more. You wanted it to be so much more. You wanted to call her yours and for her to call you hers. But she was just a friend, and it was far better than nothing.

You hadn't always believed that someone could fall in love without some sort of a romantic relationship leading up to it. Now you realized it didn't need to be romantic. You and Natasha were close. You were closer than you'd ever been with anyone before. Because of that relationship, you knew you loved her. You were head over heels in love with her at this point, and you'd realized that a little while ago when you caught yourself fondly admiring her as she drummed her fingers against the table, deep in thought. It was a habit that had once had the ability to drive you up the wall.

"Hello?" She tried again. Her hand squeezed yours.

Your stomach flipped. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just waiting for my bad luck to run out."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You scoffed. "My fruit is all spoiled, my coffee maker broke, I spilled orange juice on my favourite white shirt, my car won't start, my bus wasn't running this morning, my Uber driver was a creep, I missed my meeting, I almost missed our reservations, I lost my ID badge and... she-who-must-not-be-named called."

Natasha's eyes darkened, her hand gripped yours tighter, and her gaze moved to meet yours. You took a chance and swiped your thumb over the back of her hand to try and get her to ease the tension out of her muscles. It seemed to work, as she relaxed a little. Her shoulders moved back down, the crease in her eyebrow lessened, she loosened her grip on your hand and exhaled carefully. She nodded in thanks, green eyes once against soft and gentle as she searched your eyes. You knew she was looking for any hint of you being upset. You weren't, though. You were with her.

Natasha hated your ex-girlfriend about a hundred times more than you did. She'd begged you to let her sneak over to her house at night and slash her tires and egg her house. You'd given that a firm no, not wanting Nat to get in any sort of trouble. It was Natasha's idea to never speak her name again, and to burn a bunch of photos and clothes that were left behind at your house. She'd gone so far as to have the bench you'd once carved your names into removed from the park and replaced with a brand new one... on Tony's Starks card, of course.

"What did she want?"

"Dunno. I told her I was busy," you actually laughed a little for the first time that day. "It wasn't exactly a lie. I was swamped today."

"Hey, if Fury is overworking you, I'll kick his ass."

Imagining Natasha kicking Nicholas Fury's ass was utterly amusing. You had no doubt she could, but Fury was a force. She'd kick his ass and the next day half of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be at her doorstep to retaliate. But he was a good boss. It wasn't his fault you'd procrastinated your own work for days. That was on you, and you knew it. So, you shook your head no, he wasn't overworking you. She seemed satisfied by that, but the topic of your ex wasn't dropped yet.

"Next time she calls you can direct her straight to me."

"Tasha, you won't answer."

"Damn right I won't."

You laughed again. It brought a smile to her face too.

With that, you continued on down the street without another word of she-who-must-not-be-named. You had almost reached the restaurant where Natasha had left the reservations when you stepped on something that most definitely was not concrete. If Natasha hadn't had your hand, your leg sliding out from underneath you would have left you on your ass. She held tight to your hand, her other arm catching you around the waist. You had to force yourself from blushing red as a tomato.

You glanced down at what you'd stepped in and could have punched someone. The white paint that was being used on the storefront had spilled onto the sidewalk and of course, you'd stepped in it in your new, black shoes. You scraped the bottom of it off on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. Natasha had let go of your hand when you'd tugged it away from her to wipe the excess paint on the side of your shoe onto the post of the 'no parking' sign next to you. It was still ruined, but at least you'd gotten enough off that you wouldn't stain the restaurant's floor.

"You weren't kidding with the bad luck, huh?"

You shook your head no. You motioned onward, though. She got the hint, and you closed the distance between you and the restaurant. You shifted your bag on your shoulder as you stepped in, hoping they wouldn't notice the wet paint you were tracking onto their floors. If you managed in and out without them seeing, you'd be alright. It was New York City. You were sure people had walked in with worse things on the underside of their shoes.

You watched Natasha closely as she gave her name for the reservation. You hated how the host eyed her even more than you hated how your Uber driver had eyed you this morning. You didn't want anyone to eye her like that. You wanted to be the only one allowed to look at her like that. You knew you weren't, though. You ripped your gaze away from where it had been travelling along her jawline just in time for the host to arrive and lead you to your table. You sat across from her, keeping your eyes down and you collected your thoughts.

"What are you having?"

When you looked up, her eyes were trained on you. Her eyes were your absolute favourite part of her. They always shone so brightly, and so clearly expressed whatever she was feeling. They sparkled like they could see into your very soul and were so deep you could get lost in them for hours. Even the colour was perfect. They were that amazing shade of green that had very quickly become your favourite colour. You often found you'd been staring into them for a little longer than what might be considered normal. Now was one of those times. You looked back down at the menu.

"I'm not sure. Definitely a drink," you hummed. "Though I might get poisoned."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think your luck is so bad that your assassin will choose to poison you today."

No, because she would protect you from anything. She always had. You might have been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but she was always stepping in front of you to defend you. You couldn't say you minded. You liked having her at your back. Some people had a physical location where they felt safe. You didn't. Natasha Romanoff was your safe place. When you were with her, you felt like nothing in the world could touch you. She wouldn't let anything hurt you, and you wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Soon enough the waitress was stepping up to your table and taking your order. You gave yours first, opting for a simple fettuccine alfredo. Natasha gave hers, unaware of the way you watched her lips moving as she talked. When the waitress left and she looked back to you, your eyes were cast toward the window, watching a young couple pass by, huddled close together in the cool March evening. When she called for your attention and you gave it immediately, looking over to her. She sipped her wine as you did.

"You said your car wouldn't start?" She said.

"Yeah. It keeps sputtering on and on."

"I'll drive you home and take a look at it tonight. I know a thing or two about cars."

It was a good thing she did, because you knew absolutely nothing about what was going on under the hood of the car. All you could think was that maybe the battery had died on you, but that wasn't possible. If you'd left the lights on, you would have been able to see it through the window in your bedroom the night previous, and you hadn't. There was no other reason the battery could have been drained. You'd driven the car yesterday from your house to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York location. You might not have known what the hell was wrong, but Natasha would figure it out in seconds. The thought of her bent over to study the underside of the hood made you shiver.

The image was pushed from your mind when the waitress returned with your food. She placed your pasta down in front of you and you thanked her politely. She set Natasha's down as well. The redhead smiled widely and after double-checking that everything was alright, the server left the two of you to your dinner. Natasha glanced up at you, a very amused smile playing on her lips. You knew exactly what it was about, too. You'd gotten the wrong order and said absolutely nothing of it. Honestly, you didn't really care. At this point in the day, you just wanted to eat.

"You could've said something," Natasha teased.

"It's nothing. I'm hungry and this is just as good."

"We can still say something."

"It's fine," you assured.

"Let's stop and buy you a couple hundred good luck charms on the way back to your place."

You laughed aloud.

Dinner was good, despite having gotten the wrong order. You suspected that was due to Natasha's presence. The two of you had been exchanging stores of the craziest missions you'd ever gone on. Of course, she was winning. She was an Avenger. Your missions as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent were anything but boring, but they didn't compare to the alien invasion last year that Natasha had been at the heart of. You'd been helping from the edges of the city, evacuating civilians and the like, but you suspected she'd killed hundred more of the Chitauri than you did: one.

Before long you'd both finished, and the empty plates were cleared away. The server returned to you with the bill. You made sure your card was out before Natasha could even think about trying to pay. They collected your card, and you gave Natasha a very smug little smirk. She only rolled her eyes and thanked you softly. You thought all was said and done when the server returned. You prepared to leave but she shook her head, signalling you to stop what you were doing. She reached out, handing you your card back. You took it.

"I'm afraid the transaction isn't going through."

It seemed that your bad luck had struck again. You were fully confident that there was enough money in your account. There had been last night when you'd checked it, anyway. Either you'd had the misfortune of your card deciding to kick the bucket while you tried to buy dinner for Natasha, or even worse, someone had gotten into your bank account and cleared it out. That thought made your heart drop into your stomach as you reached for your phone, hardly noticing Natasha pulling out her own credit card this time.

You prayed for one tiny bit of luck today. Your prayers went unanswered. You logged into your online banking to find that someone had managed to get your credit card number and had been online shopping all day. Your card had long hit its limit and you were already dreading the phone call you were about to have with the bank. You huffed as you set your phone down roughly on the tabletop. Natasha glanced over at you as the server took her card this time. She raised an eyebrow. You were sure smoke was billowing from your ears.

"Luck isn't turning yet?"

You didn't answer that. "Thanks for dinner, Natasha."

She laughed. When the server returned her card and wished you both a good evening, she took your hand and dragged you back out the doors onto the noisy streets of New York. She was leading you back to S.H.I.E.L.D., where you knew she must have left her bike. When you got there, she scanned her ID and brought you both down into the parking garage. She brought you right to the motorbike and lifted the helmet off from where it was hanging on the handlebars. She reached out and set it on your head, doing it up underneath your chin. Her fingers brushed your skin as she worked at the straps.

"Normally I would never condone riding without a helmet, but I only have one. This head," she said, rapping her knuckles twice against the helmet on your head. "Is much more important than mine."

"Is not," you laughed. "There's hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but there's only six Avengers."

"And there's only one you," she insisted. "The helmet stays on that pretty little head of yours, and that's final."

That compliment seemed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach. They were still present when you both climbed onto the bike. They fluttered even more when Natasha told you to put your arms around her and hold tight. You could have stayed like this forever if she'd asked you to. You almost wanted her to ask you to, because you loved the ways your arms fit perfectly around her waist. Facing forward, she wasn't able to see the smile that was growing on your lips. Maybe all that bad luck was to make up for this.

Reluctantly, you took your arms off from around her when she pulled into your driveway. She put the kickstand down and took the helmet once you'd pulled it off and handed it back to her. You straightened out your hair a little bit in the reflection of your car window. Wordlessly, Natasha had moved to the hood of your car and tapped on the red paint to get your attention. You unlocked the car and popped the hood for her. She unhooked the latch and lifted it up, studying the inside carefully. That scene you'd been picturing earlier was coming true before your eyes.

"Start the car for me?"

You nodded. You dropped your bag on the doorstep, digging through the pockets until your hand had closed around your car keys. You withdrew them by tugging on the dinosaur keychain that Natasha had once given you after winning it at the arcade, where you'd spent hours at all the different games. You slid into the front seat, turning on the car when Natasha gave you the thumbs up. The car sputtered loudly. Then it made a sound you might have mistaken for a gunshot. The backfire nearly made you jump out of your seat. You quickly got out.

"You alright, Nat?"

"I'm good," she nodded. She moved away from the car. "It's probably just your spark plugs. When's the last time you had them replaced?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. I drop it off for a tune-up and expect them to tune it up."

Natasha laughed. "I'll grab some tomorrow and replace them for you."

You nodded. You watched as she reached up and grabbed the hood of the car, closing it again. She rubbed her hands against her pants. You clicked a button on your car keys, locking the doors. The lights flashed to indicate that it was indeed secured. You fiddled with the keys in your hand to get the house key out, opening your mouth to invite Natasha in as well, but found you couldn't find the golden key. You growled at nothing and dug through every pocket in your bag to see if it had fallen off in there, but there was no trace of it.

"My house key is missing."

Natasha actually laughed at this. "Did you walk under a ladder this morning? Spill the salt? Break a mirror?"

You glared at her. "Can you help me get in through a window?"

She nodded. You both moved around to one of the windows that you'd left open last night, after telling her you weren't sure you had locked it when you shut it this morning. Indeed, she found that once you'd removed the screen, she was able to slide the window open. You linked your fingers together to make a spot for Natasha to use for leverage. You boosted her through the open window and then moved back to the front door just as you heard the deadbolt slide out of place.

"My hero," you grinned as she opened the door. "I owe you a drink. Come on."

"I still have to drive home."

"Stay the night," you offered. "If you don't, I could very well just get murdered tonight."

Natasha laughed. "Well, I'd better stay and make sure you're okay, then."

You smacked her gently. She knew her way around your small bungalow well, having visited what could have easily been a million times. She made herself at home on the couch, tossing her leather jacket beside her. You moved into the kitchen, only paying half a glance at the towels you'd thrown over the two spilled beverages. You poured the both of you a drink and then brought them into the living room, kicking back on the couch beside her. You grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on. The screen lit up the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the beautiful face beside you that had been illuminated. You turned back to the screen.

"I can put Netflix on," you said, pressing a button. "What do you want to watch?"

"Can I test your luck?"

"What?" You responded, turning your full attention to her.

She didn't offer an explanation. You felt her hand touch your thigh. Your breath hitched and the remote almost fell to the floor. You managed to set it down on the table as your cheeks began to burn red. She left her hand there for a few seconds before it slid away, letting you take a moment to remember how to breathe. Her hand moved away and wrapped around her glass. You knew how obvious you were being when you watched her touch the rim to her lips and the slight movements in her neck as she swallowed the alcohol. You needed a drink too, but you were frozen.

"I just mean... I could either turn your luck around or just maintain the bad luck."

You still didn't know what she meant. She was setting her glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes searched yours and you were once again tossed into the sea of green that you were so obsessed with. When she leaned forward and connected your lips, though, you lost sight of emerald green. Her eyes had shut and only a second later, yours had fluttered shut as well. You put a hand on the back of her neck to hold her closer and moved your lips with hers. You wondered briefly if you were dreaming. You didn't have long with your thoughts. Your mind was so overcome with whatever was happening right now.

Natasha pulled back. Her hand had, at some point, moved back onto your thigh, and was resting there gently. Your hand moved to cover it. She flipped hers over so that her fingers could intertwine with yours and for the first time, it didn't feel like it was just in a friendly manner. It felt so much more than that, just liked you'd wanted it to. Your eyes moved from there up to her face. She had been studying you intently. You'd never seen Natasha Romanoff look nervous. Not until that very moment. You chuckled a little, nervousness in your chest as well, and let your eyes fall.

"You definitely turned it," was all you said.

"Yeah?"

"By a long shot. I mean, I think this amount of good luck was enough to actually balance out the bad luck."

You didn't know Natasha could giggle, but she did. The sound made a smile immediately spread over your face. You reached out and took her hands in your own. You leaned forward and kissed her again, infatuated with the feeling of her soft lips pressed against yours so rough and yet somehow so soft. One of your hands pulled out of hers so it could thread through the red waves on her head. You'd wanted to do that for so long. She only pulled back when you'd both lost your breath. Your forehead rested against hers and you could smell the whiskey on her breath.

"Do you know how long I've wanted that?" You breathed.

"I'd guessed it, but I thought it was just my imagination because I wanted the same thing."

You laughed. She put her hands on your shoulders, pushing your back down against the couch and then putting her knees on either side of your waist. Her lips were on yours again, a little hotter this time. You didn't complain. You just let her lean down over you and kiss you and run her hand down your side. You only raised a hand to her chest and pushed her away when you once more felt the need for oxygen burning inside your chest. She didn't move far, face inches from yours, studying you this time from above. You blushed under her gaze.

"I... I've felt really strongly about you for a while," you said, hand moving so you could trace your fingertips across her cheek. "You know what I mean?"

"Are you trying to tell me you love me without saying you love me?" She asked, the teasing back in her voice again. "Because you're not going to scare me off. You can say it if you want."

"I love you, Natasha."

"I love you, too."

You couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't funny in any way, but maybe it was the relief trying to find a way out of your body. The sound seemed to make Natasha's eyes, sparkle. Your heart softened and the laughter fell from your lips and you didn't move a muscle. Her face was so beautiful looking down at you like it was. You felt so right having her touch you like this and touching her the way you were. Her hands were holding her torso up above yours and yours were touching her face so gently. It wasn't like a friend touched a friend anymore.

"Thanks for turning my luck."

"Are you kidding me? I'm the lucky one."

"I think we're both really fucking lucky, Natasha. Thank you."

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[princessofcurses]

[2] Struggling Sweetly

Part 1

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader & Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader Preface: Part 2. You’re devastated after your darling has cheated on you but an old friend has come to cheer you up. Unfortunately, it's never that easy. content warning: out of character, college AU, infidelity, alcohol, angst, sexy time, size kink, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, blood, depression Word Count: 6.2k If you like it, please leave a like and/or reblog ♡

The next morning, you woke up with your cheek still squished to Satoru's chest and your leg draped over him. He was asleep and lightly snoring. You marveled at him: his soft and fair skin, his silky and messy hair, and oh god his toned body. The way you felt looking at him right now reminded you of the first time you met him and were captivated by him. It was your first year at Jujutsu High and Satoru was a third year. He was assigned to be your mentor and look out for you, the main reason being that the higher-ups had an eye on you, suspicious of your inexplicable strength. You were meeting in the courtyard and your impression as he walked towards you was that he was a giant; he's well over six feet! As you came to face each other, he had to look down to make eye contact with you which made you pout.

"Wow, Y/N! You're like a foot shorter than me."

The choppy laugh he let out annoyed you a bit and you stood there, staring at him in silence.

"Gojo Satoru. I'll be your mentor and guardian from now on!"

He reached out his hand for you to shake. You took his in yours and firmly gripped it, feeling his calluses and thinking this man works hard. His thumb lightly rubbed over the back of your hand and you quickly retracted yours, putting it back to your side, feeling a bit flustered.

"Gojo-san-"

"Call me Senpai."

You rolled your eyes, adding to your unamused expression while he snickered. You called him by the honorific with a bit of a hiss.

"Senpai, I don't need a guardian. I can take care of myself."

He shook his head and leaned forward to be at eye-level with you, putting his hands on your shoulders. A small vein on your forehead popped out from your irritation because of his patronizing behavior but then you caught a glimpse of his eyes above his pitch-black lenses. You had already known of the Six Eyes but they were even more beautiful and intense in person. They held the sparkling ocean, or maybe it's the sky, and thin clouds passed through them. You turned to ice, feeling mesmerized by him and his presence.

"I'm sure you can but it isn't just cursed spirits you need to be wary of. There are sorcerers that don't have good intentions for you too."

Noticing that you were in a bit of a daze, assumedly from his presence, he chuckled and put his arm around you and began walking.

"Well, don't worry. I'll be the best mentor and guardian. Ora. I'll show you around the campus."

That marked the beginning of a crush that lasted 4 1/2 years. It would've been 5 and maybe longer, but six months ago when you started your second year in college and Satoru started his fourth and last year, you met Sukuna who was in his last year as well.

Your reminiscing was cut short when Satoru began to stir, transitioning from dreaming to awakening. A groggy and throaty noise escaped from his mouth when he outstretched his arms and legs. Slowly opening his empyrean eyes, you perked up when his met yours. He smiled and spoke with a deep and sleepy voice that you found erotic.

"Hm? Have you been waiting for me to wake up?"

"No, no. I woke up not too long ago."

You stammered, not wanting him to know you spent the last several minutes ogling him in his sleep. You both sat up and Satoru began looking for his phone.

"What time is it?"

You unlocked your phone and held it up to his face so he could see the time.

"SHIT! 9 AM!? I was supposed to be in Osaka at 8 for a mission. Yaga's going to kill me."

Satoru hopped out of bed and frantically looked for his clothes, tearing the sheets up and looking under the bed. He found them and hurriedly put them on. You spotted his phone on the floor and picked it up to hand it to him.

"What's the mission?"

"Exorcising curses responsible for the many incomplete domains and missing people in the area."

"Sounds like fun! Can I come?"

"Sorry, sweets. I have to go alone since it's a field assignment for class. I'll be back in a few days. Wait for me?"

He gave you a peck on the cheek and patted the top of your head. You looked puzzled, pondering what he meant by 'wait for me' but before you got the chance to ask or even say goodbye, he had warped away.

Does he want me to wait in my room until he gets back? No, that can't be it. Ugh. I don't get it.

You went back under the covers and stared at the ceiling, sighing as you began to feel lonely. You opened up your contacts list on your phone and scrolled through the names, wondering who you should hit up to hang out with. You winced as you slowly passed by Sukuna's name; you pressed on his contact and was about to hit BLOCK but then an incoming call with his name on it took over your screen. The screen became blurry and your heart began to beat against your chest. Not knowing what to do, you waited there until the call went to voicemail but a few seconds after the ringing had stopped, he was calling again.

Don't answer it. There's nothing important he has to say to you.

Your hand holding your phone was shaking and you gave yourself a pep talk to be strong but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to talk to him. If you answered, you hoped he would grovel at your feet and beg you for your forgiveness. But then what would you do? What would you want to happen afterward? You rid your head of the hypothetical situation and blocked his number after his second call went to voicemail. He had left one this time.

"Y/N, I know you don't want to talk to me or see me but I'm begging you, please give me a chance to explain. If you're truly done with me, can't we at least talk so I can get closure? Call me back. I love you."

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say he loves you. He had only said it a handful of times when you were still together. You tossed your phone to the other side of the room and brought the covers over your face.

“You love me, but you cheated on me? Why do you need closure, you idiot?”

You huffed in annoyance but then tears were escaping from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed the pillow Satoru used and buried your face in it, holding it to your chest tightly. His lingering scent made you feel a little better but you still sobbed into the pillow until you fell asleep.

The next week, after doing nothing except sleeping and sulking, you decided to go out to the club tonight for a few drinks and music so loud you wouldn't be able to hear your thoughts. You didn't have club attire so you pulled up in black cargo pants, a black tube top, and black platform boots and luckily, it barely made the dress code and the bouncer let you in. As soon as you stepped inside, you felt the stale air from all of the people crowded together. You squished in between some and pushed your way through others to get to the bar. Once you finally made it, you took a seat and ordered a strawberry margarita. Every so often, someone took a seat beside you to try and talk to you but you rebuffed each one with just a wave of your hand without even giving them a glance.

Three margaritas later and you were feeling tipsy, thinking now is a good time for a cigarette. Stepping out of the stuffy club into fresh air, you pulled out a fresh pack and checked your purse and all of your pockets for a lighter, sighing when you didn't have one. You timidly began to ask the people around you but were out of luck because they either didn't have one or they wanted something in return for it. Unsuccessful in your pursuit, you took a seat at one of the tables with your unlit cigarette between your lips. You sighed, your elbow on the table and your hand supporting your head up, using your other one to scroll through your phone.

"Do you need a light?"

You stiffened knowing whose voice it was and you slowly turned your head up to see Sukuna standing before you, a smile with a hint of mal intent on his face. Shaken up and unsure of what to say, he used the pause to take a seat in front of you and he pulled out a lighter. You leaned in and your eyes locked onto each other’s as he lit your cigarette. Seeing your doe eyes ignited something in him and you saw a mischievous glint in his. Feeling uneasy, you closed your eyes and took a deep drag.

So unlucky.

"You're the last person I thought I'd see at the club. And alone too?"

"I was bored and needed to get out of my apartment. That's all."

"You look beautiful tonight."

Caught off guard by his compliment, you bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, reminding yourself why you two aren't together anymore in the first place. His hand moved towards your face and you flinched a bit, but he gently brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear. You looked down feeling disconcerted, his slight touch sending a chill through you. You inhaled deeply, taking another drag and beginning to feel lightheaded from the alcohol you drank earlier even more.

"Thanks."

That was all you were able to mutter out. You felt awkward and didn't want to say anything at all. The feeling was intensified when Sukuna put his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh. He loved teasing you in public places. He held his hand out over the table for you to grab. You apprehensively took it and he brought your hand close to his face and kissed the back of it. He then set your hand on the table, putting his over yours. You stared at him as blush formed across your cheeks, overwhelmed by his presence. He smirked at your docility.

"You haven't been answering my calls or texts. Did you block me?"

You quietly answered.

"I did."

He shook his head in dissatisfaction.

"That's mean, princess. You don't know how much I've missed you."

He moved his knee farther in between your legs so it was lightly brushing against your cunt. He hummed in amusement when he felt your warmth, the desire in his eyes tempting you. You focused on keeping your cool but you were slowly losing your inhibitions. You hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks and for a little while, you forgot what he looked like. But even in the dim light, you could see his features perfectly: his pink hair and undercut that you loved ruffling, his tattoos that you would trace over with your fingertips, his build under your small hands, and his aura that hypnotizes you. He cheated on you but that doesn't mean a hook-up was out of the question, right? You took a drag and puffed the smoke out, deciding to shift away from him and your rash ideas. You were brought back from your thoughts when a woman approached you two.

"Hi, baby!"

You tensed up hearing the woman speaking sweetly to Sukuna. She wore a white off-the-shoulder dress and looked elegant, contrasting the full-on black streetwear you had on. Feeling a tad jealous, you wondered if she was more his type than you were. They exchanged a kiss and you turned your head discreetly and cringed. You had a look of disappointment on your face that changed to a more friendly expression when she greeted you. Sukuna introduced you to each other but your cloudy thoughts didn’t let you catch her name. You tried your best to wear a polite smile though you really wanted to scream in anger or cry in dejection.

"You go ahead inside. I'll be there in a little bit."

He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then she scurried away, waving goodbye to the both of you. Sukuna then slowly turned to face you and you squinted at him with disgust. Before he got the chance to speak, you stood up to leave.

"I have to go."

"Wait, Y/N. She's no one."

Your thoughts were in a flurry, wondering how he could even say that after they had just kissed in front of you. Feeling disrespected, you scoffed at his absurd statement.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something. You don't have to lie to me anymore. We're done, remember?"

"You're the love of my life, Y/N. I'm only hanging out with her because I'm lonely and I don't have you around."

Tired of his nonsense, you took one last, long drag, finishing the cigarette and blowing the smoke in his face. You dropped the stoge to the floor, extinguishing the flame by rubbing it into the ground with your foot. Your face was hot with fury and intensity lined your voice.

"You missed me so you started seeing someone else? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you. Okay? You cheated on me. You hurt me. You replaced me. We're finished."

You made a sound of disgust and turned your back to him, beginning to walk away. But he stood up after you and roughly caught your wrist, pulling you to his Herculean chest. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating and the warmth he radiated made you want to close the distance between you two but you reminded yourself he was already here with someone. Regardless of what he feels, his actions say something entirely different. You wanted to push him away but he spoke with a harsh tone that stopped you in your tracks.

"No, princess. Don't you know how much that hurts me?"

Sukuna looked down on you, scrutinizing you. He didn't want to get aggressive but he had lost his patience and he hated not getting his way. His dark stare brought a bit of fear to your eyes but you were enticed as well. The energy around him exuded sinful intentions and though your fight or flight response triggered, it exhilarated you more than anything. He leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and breathy.

"It's cute how defiant you're being but I think what you really want is to be taken for it in the back of my car right now."

His crass words were provoking you into submission. He leaned back and took hold of your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head towards him and wearing a malevolent grin for you. His demeanor made you feel small and he knew it aroused you. He lightly pressed his lips against yours and hummed in contentment as you didn’t resist.

"I missed my little girl."

Stunned by the dominating air around him, you didn't kiss him back but you mindlessly followed him as he led you out of the patio area and to his car, his grip on your wrist still rough.

"Let's make up for lost time."

As you neared the vehicle, your thoughts began to flood. You knew this was a bad idea; your soul willed to reject him but your flesh was weak. You hadn't stopped missing Sukuna since you broke up and you wanted him so badly in this moment. You tried to justify it by telling yourself this was the last time for old time's sake and then you would really be finished with him. Your contemplation then transitioned to a vision of his date and you began to feel guilty, wondering how she would feel if she knew how low Sukuna could get. You almost brushed the thought off thinking Sukuna was yours in the first place but once he was about to open the door for you, Satoru's voice echoed in your head.

"Wait for me?"

Awakening from your stupor, you gasped and snatched your wrist back from Sukuna, Satoru's words finally making sense. You were dismayed at yourself as you almost traded your dignity for a little fling. You exhaled deeply and covered your face, tears collecting in your eyes. Ignoring the heartache in your chest, you steeled your resolve.

"I can't do this. If you really love me, you'd want what's best for me. And you're just not that. Not anymore."

His domineering presence disappeared and a bit of desperation was laced in his voice as he realized that you were no longer under his spell.

"Princess, please. I’ll do anything to atone."

"Save it for your next love."

You said it sharply but your chest ached as if you had just stabbed yourself with your own words. Tears ran down your face as you gave him a parting hug, cherishing for a few seconds the comfort you felt in his arms. You fit perfectly with him, his embrace on you snug yet tight and his chin resting on the top of your head. Not able to handle another second with him without sobbing, you teleported away. Sukuna stood there speechless, your warmth had left him and the rejection defeated him.

Once Satoru came back from his mission, he took you out to eat. He sat across from you at the maid cafe he suggested you both go to, though he insisted it wasn't because of the outfits, rather it was because of their delicious desserts. He ordered a crepe filled with strawberries and bananas, topped with chocolate sauce and powdered sugar, and strawberry and vanilla ice cream on the side. Your eyes grew in size at the sickly sugary and loaded confection and your sweet tooth ached for it.

"Why couldn't you have gotten me my own crepe?"

"I got the biggest size so we could share! You wouldn't have been able to finish one on your own anyway, sweets."

You shrugged and quieted your protests. Eating a spoonful of the sweet course, you closed your eyes and hummed in delight. Satoru smiled warmly watching you eat and then followed suit.

"How was the mission?"

“A cakewalk. I thought it’d be a little challenging because of the volume of incomplete domains but a first-grade sorcerer would’ve been sufficient. What’d you do while I was gone?”

You were in awe at his coolness and confidence he effortlessly exuded. But at his question, you let out a long exhale and rested your chin on your knuckles.

“I went to a club and saw Sukuna with a girl. She called him baby and they kissed right in front of me."

"Ouch."

He made a straight face and pursed his lips. You were apprehensive to tell him what happened next, but you weren’t one to lie or keep things from others. You sighed again, anxiously moving fruit around the plate with your fork.

"Worst of all, he tried to seduce me and it almost worked."

He leaned forward in interest, raising his eyebrow and looking at you intently. You nervously met his gaze, unsure of what he thought about the situation.

"Almost?"

"My mind was all over the place debating whether I should or not but I decided not to because I remembered you telling me to wait for you."

He chuckled haughtily and patted you on the head endearingly. You winced at his reaction, his unpredictability confusing you as usual.

"I said wait for me? I meant that I'd be back soon. I'm flattered you thought I didn't want you having sex with anyone else. Though that isn't my decision to make, is it?"

Your palm met your forehead, feeling a little foolish at your misinterpretation of his words. Though you couldn’t be sure that that was what he really meant. Regardless, you didn't want to seem desperate for him.

"Well, whatever. Hooking up with him would've been a mistake."

He nodded, taking a spoonful of crepe, fruit, and ice cream and holding it up to your mouth to feed you. You gladly accepted it, looking up at him and making eye contact as your lips slipped off of the spoon. He returned your lusty stare, telling you that he knew what was on your mind.

"Is this… a date?"

You innocently asked him, not wanting to get the wrong idea of his company.

"Yeah, it is."

You were surprised at the seriousness of his tone. Usually, he teased you by skirting around these kinds of questions.

"And I want to ask you out on another date tonight. Suguru is throwing a party! Everyone will be there. Let's go together."

"That sounds like a lot of fun, but you should go without me. I'm assuming 'everyone' includes Sukuna too."

A look of disapproval was shown on your face at his proposition and he pouted, voicing his objection.

"He might be there but what does it matter? Are you scared of him?"

You sighed in exasperation, knowing this was a bad idea. But you had already stood up to him twice now. Surely you could do it again if a confrontation happened. Though you would prefer not to put yourself in a situation like that at all, you didn’t want his mere presence to influence your actions. You pushed the plate of dessert towards Satoru to signal you were full and done eating. He happily ate the rest. You conceded to him.

"Fine."

"Yay! I'll pick you up at 9 then."

Later that night, Satoru arrived at your apartment an hour behind schedule. You were laying on your bed, hanging off the edge of it upside down when he walked in. He was wearing a fitted white dress shirt that you could easily see his muscular figure in and he had the first couple of buttons undone. Your eyes widened at his attractive appearance and you felt completely underdressed in your colorful shirt, baggy corduroy pants, and platform converse.

"Oh. It's that kind of party?"

His eyes lowered at your outfit and he frowned.

"I had a feeling you didn't have the right clothes for the occasion so I bought you something."

He handed you a black mini dress with spaghetti straps for you to wear. You took it and examined it, trying to decide if you liked it or not.

"You didn’t need to do that. It's not really something I'd buy for myself."

"At least try it on. Please? You can wear your platform boots with them."

You compromised and asked him to look away while you changed but he pretended not to hear you.

"Oh and Y/N? Don't wear a bra."

Your eyebrows scrunched and you pouted at him but you undressed down to your panties anyway. Satoru was obviously checking you out and you saw him lick his lips from the corner of your eye. He scanned you up and down, taking a bit more time viewing your breasts and ass that your panties couldn’t fully cover. You slipped on the dress and it fit a little too well, accentuating your curves and falling right at mid-thigh. After putting your platforms on, you looked at yourself in the mirror, content that you had at least one piece of clothing you were comfortable in.

Satoru came up behind you and hugged you, admiring your figure in the garment he had purchased just for you. His hands trailed the curve of your waist to your hips slowly while he pressed his lips against your ear, lightly licking your earlobe.

"You look delicious, sweets."

Taking one last look at yourself in the dress, and in his arms, you closed your eyes in satisfaction, your heart fluttering. He then grabbed your hand and led you out of the apartment to his car. After putting the key in the ignition, he drove fast, speeding recklessly towards Suguru’s residence. His driving unsettled you, but you were comforted when his hand moved to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. The drive was short and once you got there, you were on edge knowing Sukuna would see you tonight and would undoubtedly approach you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Satoru opened the car door for you and put his hand out for you to grab.

"You're welcome for the dress, by the way."

You turned your head and made a ‘hmph’ sound but then you batted your eyelashes at him and blushed, taking his hand and following his lead. Once you were inside and in view of your friends, you and Satoru unclasped hands, in silent agreement that you didn't want them to think anything was going on between you two yet.

"Fashionably late as usual. And Y/N! We haven't seen you in forever."

Suguru said as he lightly shoved Satoru. Suguru then embraced you tightly, picking you up and twirling you around. You yelped and Shoko came to your rescue, picking you out of his arms and giving you a tight hug as well. They both became straight-faced and asked how you were doing after the breakup. You chuckled nervously, putting your hand behind your head.

"I'm doing fine. Is Sukuna here already?"

"I haven't seen him yet. But wow! I've never seen you in a dress before. You look great."

Shoko nodded in agreement but then snickered after she surveyed you in the dress.

"Is it cold in here?"

Pointing to your nipples that were poking through your garment. Satoru and Suguru’s eyes fell to your chest and they both grinned. You instantly reddened and put your head down, calling them out.

"Stop looking!"

The three of them laughed endearingly while you crossed your arms over your chest to cover it. Shoko pulled you to the side while Suguru and Satoru began conversing with each other about their last missions.

"Seriously, Y/N. Are you okay? I heard Sukuna cheated on you and he's been seeing someone else already."

You sighed, a bit upset that your business was probably known by everyone by now.

"I saw them together at the club last week. It was terrible. Sukuna came with her but we almost hooked up in the back of his car while she was at the bar."

Shoko grimaced at the awkward situation. She put her arm around you to comfort you and you leaned into her.

"I just wanted to warn you that he'll probably show up with her tonight. And what about Satoru? You two are hanging out again?"

"Yeah, I'm slowly trying to reconnect with everyone I disappeared on when I started dating Sukuna."

She smiled knowing she'd be seeing you more often. Satoru and Suguru argued about who knows what but they resolved it quickly and rejoined your conversation.

"Well, you two should go grab a drink! Let's catch up later."

Suguru nudged you both in the direction of the alcohol. They had almost every kind but the only hard liquor you could keep down was tequila. Satoru knew that and had already poured you a shot.

"I'm only having a couple of drinks since I'm driving. I'll take care of you though."

"I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much."

You both said cheers and clinked shot cups. Downing the bitter drink, you made a face of disgust, wanting to cough it up. He then skillfully made two margaritas for both of you to sip on. You chugged it instead and Satoru furrowed his eyebrows at you, thinking he would definitely need to look out for you tonight despite your earlier protest.

"Do you wanna dance?"

You nodded and he led you into the dark room only dimly lit by red LED lights on the ceiling though you could see his intense eyes holding the heavens clearly. The faint light made the atmosphere erotic. He pulled you closer to him, his hand on the small of your back, and you awkwardly did a two-step dance. The unsynchronized movement didn’t fit with the music so he turned you around so your ass was on his crotch. He had to bend his knees a considerable amount because of your height difference. Regardless, he held you close and led your hips to grind on him. The slow swaying and the tequila setting in made you rid yourself of whatever awkwardness that was left.

"This dress looks a little too good on you."

He whispered in your ear as he began to get more frisky, one of his hands cupping your breast while the other crossed over your torso and rested on your hip. He held you close to him tightly, leaving no room between you two and wanting to get even closer. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, lightly kissing down it. You shivered a bit under his touch, sighing in gratification. Your hand found the nape of his neck and you held onto it, giving in to your lust as you felt his erection forming.

"Let's go somewhere else."

Grabbing your wrist, he eagerly led you out into the hallway where he pushed you against the wall, caging you between his arms. He kissed you feverishly, his lips smacking against yours and his tongue finding its way into your mouth where he brushed along your wet muscle. He lightly bit your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan, your body feeling loose and ready for more. Your hand trailed down his torso and over his groin, where you lightly grabbed his hard cock. He was a bit startled but then he smiled, kissing into you even more roughly, his hands cupping your face. You pulled away from his lips to lean over and whisper in his ear.

"Can we get out of here? I want you."

Your doe eyes and sweet voice feigning innocence made him drag you out of the house with a quickness.

As soon as you got outside, he gave you another impassioned kiss and grabbed your ass with both of his hands. You two were about to head over to Satoru's car when you heard a thunderous voice.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Satoru?"

Sukuna stomped his way over to you two and placed his hand on Satoru's shoulder. Satoru made a sound of disgust and brushed his hand off, turning to face him. He leaned over to look at the woman standing beside Sukuna and he scoffed.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your new girlfriend, Sukuna?"

Satoru spoke his name with a hiss and had the smuggest smile on his face seeing Sukuna seething with anger.

"She's not my girlfriend and what the fuck are you doing with Y/N? You're always getting your hands on my sloppy seconds."

You and Sukuna's date both winced at different parts of his harsh comments. This was probably the worst-case scenario.

"Don't be so full of yourself. Not a fan of your type, besides Y/N of course. And how could you cheat on the sweet girl? Let me guess, is it because you couldn't have the fucked up sex you want with her?"

The girl’s eyes widened, realizing Sukuna had cheated on you with her. You cringed at Satoru’s unintentional insult towards her, seeing how hurt and confused she was already. Your eyebrow raised at Satoru's comment and you inserted yourself into the conversation.

"What are you talking about, Satoru?"

Sukuna crossed his arms and shook his head. Satoru chuckled arrogantly and looked at you with darkened eyes.

"Why don't you tell her why you cheated, Suku?"

He mockingly called Sukuna by the nickname you had given to him. Sukuna sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb in frustration. He didn’t want you to find out like this but he was caught and couldn’t lie anymore.

"I have some kinks I didn't think you'd be into. I got drunk and couldn't control myself when I met someone with similar quirks."

Sukuna spoke as if his date wasn't even there. She glanced at you with embarrassment and dipped her head down so none of us could see her face. You huffed in disbelief and you shot him a dirty look, glaring at him.

"That's why you cheated on me? You didn't trust me enough to tell me what you desired? You didn't even give me a chance to decide whether I did or not?"

"Y/N, what are you even doing with Satoru? Was looking like a pathetic puppy following him around for years not enough indication of how he feels about you? How hopeless everyone thought you were until you started dating me?"

He deflected your questions and you balled your fists in anger, feeling like you were close to your boiling point and about to explode.

"Pathetic, huh?"

"Yes, pathetic. Running back to Satoru as soon as we're over? You don't think it's odd he went after you as soon as he found out we broke up?"

You slapped Sukuna straight across his face, his head turning and your eyes glowing red at him with rage. Your cursed energy changed the air around you hostilely and the three of them shuddered feeling it. Sukuna placed his hand over his cheek where you had hit him and he scowled. His date trembled at your actions and she tugged on his sleeve to ask if he was okay, to which he shrugged her off insensitively.

"I don't give a damn what you think of what I'm doing, Sukuna. You cheated on me for an asinine reason and then you berate me for actions that have nothing to do with you. I never want to see you again."

You spoke jeeringly. Satoru tried to grab your hand to comfort you but you plucked it away from him. He began to plead with you. Sukuna smiled slightly seeing that he successfully pitted you against Satoru.

"Y/N, I told you I'd make everything right. And I will, slowly and steadily."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head in resentment. You were done with all of this and everyone, ready to leave it all behind.

"The both of you can go fuck yourselves."

Satoru looked at you with pained eyes while Sukuna couldn't even face you. You turned to Sukuna's date and sighed, putting your hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort. You were both completely humiliated and she was on the verge of tears. You had a similar feeling but anger was the more prominent emotion.

"I'm sorry about all of this. You really don't deserve it."

She was mortified and began to cry, unable to speak. You turned your back to the three of them and began walking away.

"Don't follow me. I mean it. You two disgust me. I don't know who or what you think I am but I'm not a fucking toy."

"Y/N, please…"

Satoru's voice trailed as the distance increased between you two. You released your balled fists and one of your palms was red and stinging from the vicious slap you gave Sukuna. You then put your hands over your face, groaning loudly.

"What the fuck was all that?"

The walk home was miserable. You trudged back to your apartment, walking uncomfortably as the cold bit at your skin harshly and the dress hiked up your thighs. You constantly pulled the piece of clothing down to an almost modest length for the entire thirty-minute walk. The scene between you four replayed in your mind relentlessly. You wished you could just forget the past six months.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you fell down to your knees in front of the mirror. You examined yourself, thinking that you didn't like who you were or anyone very much at this moment. You banged on the mirror with the side of your fist, shattering the glass and distorting your reflection. Your hand began bleeding, shards of glass still embedded in it. And then, you began to sob hard, trying to catch your breath. Your chest felt heavy and your heart ached beneath it. Your phone hadn't stopped ringing since you left, mostly from calls and texts from Satoru, a few from Suguru and Shoko, and a couple from an unknown number which you assumed was Sukuna. You doubted yourself and the people closest to you.

"Am I not deserving of the love I give to others? Am I really just a pitiful person?"

You laid face down on the floor in despair. Exhaling deeply, you were unbearably exhausted and the confidence in yourself had completely dissipated. The depression began to settle in and you fell asleep in absolute defeat.

Note: Watch out for fluff next chapter <3

master list

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

[spiked-tea-writing]

and they were roommates?!

SapnapxFem!Reader

Summary: Imagine being in love with your roommate, couldn't be you.

Pronouns: She/her

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: I don’t watch or know anything, I just like these people and I had a concept. Also, he and Dream aren’t roommates in this for the sake of I can’t figure that out. Also also, my timeline is probably fucked but who cares

The dynamic in the apartment was...interesting to say the least

In the two years of living together, it had shifted a lot

In the beginning, you and Sapnap had been... less than cordial to each other

Both eighteen, fresh out of high school, off to college thinking that you knew everything.

There was lots of fighting, to say the least.

All of the “No it’s your turn to vacuum”, and “I swear to god Sapnap I will punt you halfway across the world if you eat my pineapple again”

The only reason you didn’t slit each other’s throats was that if the other person was dead, who would pay rent?

It was the summer before college started at the time, and you were working long hours minimum wage so coming]’/ home to an annoying prick caused a crap ton of conflict

After a few months of being little bitches to each other, y’all got piss drunk in the apartment and it all just sorta fell apart

Got that good drunk therapy, spilling your deepest secrets

(y’all were underage but shhh)

So by the time college started, the two of you had become actual friends and started enjoying each others company

A few months into the friendship, you encouraged him to post the video of “Minecraft, but it’s Raining Cats and Dogs” on a whim

Lmao little did you know what you had created (we’ll get to that later)

You mocked his train of thought constantly, laughing at the timing of it all.

“Ahhh yes, I am Sapnap, the genius who thought it’d be great to become a YouTuber while in my first year of college.”

He’d always just laugh and roll his eyes, playfully shoving you while stealing your chips.

The next few months were a haze of studying, work, and him.

It was truly a friendship of convenience since you guys were so busy, him starting his youtube career, and you working restaurants, then school on top of that, it was just easy to find friendship in your roommate.

Of course, he had his close friends which he spoke to over the internet, and you had your friends from back home, but as for college, it really was only him.

You guys had a fun time just hanging around the apartment, and it became so easy to be friends with him

And it WAS truly platonic (we’ll get back to that as well)

The best thing he brought to the friendship was his animals

You got on fabulously with Cash and the cats

They were all so cuddly and honestly loved you more than him lmao

You guys were just trying to get degrees and not be too stupid, was that too much to ask???

Well to a certain 2020, it was

The beginning of that year was great.

He was sorta realizing that he liked putting himself on social media, but on top of that, it seemed like a great start to a year.

February brought him to twitch, which you loved

You found it hilarious how he would just sorta play games and have people watch him live.

But you were incredibly supportive, as a friend, of course

He really liked it so, you tried to ignore the shouting at three am, and the loud anthems at night

Sure you’d give him hell in the morning, but why kill his fun?

March started great, as it was his birthday.

You got him a glittery lighter as a gag, but it was the perfect gift for a broke-ass college student

Then a certain pandemic came a-knockin’ on y’all’s door

It was a hard hit on both of you.

An executive decision was made that you two would stay put, but being away from your families was incredibly tough.

That spring was the birth of The SMP.

It brought him so much joy, which in turn made you happier.

The rest of the school year was a blur of zooms and test

Nick nearly killed you on multiple occasions when you made fun of the fact that he was learning computer science over the computer or made him help you figure out what the fuck zoom was since it was tangentially related to his major

“SAP HELP ME YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS ITS YOUR FUCKING MAJOR!!!”

“NO, IT’S- AHHHHHHHHH”

Yall got more than a handful of noise complaints shhhh

That summer was fill was spent trying to fill the time in weird ways

Note to self, he can’t cook (which you learned the hard way)

Yall spent so much time trying to cook and bake, then sweating off the calories working out with The Fitness Marshall lmao

As sucky as the situation was, that summer was so incredibly fun for the both of you, and truthfully the only arguments were about what music to blast

“Y/n I swear if I listen to Cosmicandy one more time I will drown you.”

“Well if I hear American Idiot one more time someone’s knee caps are getting harvested.”

(that argument was settled with Elton John.)

When school started up again that fall, something shifted

After a year of actual friendship, you guys were no longer just friends, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife

You had watched every single one of his streams since day one, but within 2 seconds of his Love or Host, you felt the need to hurl for some peculiar reason

It was bizarre because there was no way you could ever like him, of course not.

Within the apartment, you guys suddenly got a lot more touchy, but only because it was getting cold with winter and all that jazz.

It wasn’t because yall were secretly in love, what is this, a romcom?

The number of times you guys woke up on the couch, definitely not cuddling was too many to count

You started sitting in his room while he streamed, definitely not watching him with heart eyes because of how excited he got

He always had a pot of coffee full and a 6-pack of monster in the fridge since he knew you ran on spite and caffeine, and definitely not so that he could spend more time with you in the early hours of the morning.

The laundry started getting all mixed around, resulting in just sharing any sweats, hoodies, or socks.

The same thing went for food.

No longer was anything labeled with a name, if it was in the fridge, it was fair game (unless there was a post-it because come on, yall weren’t monsters)

But no, y’all were just roommates, not dating, lets make that clear.

Feelings? We don’t know her.

This entire time, his friends have had to hear about you rip.

But they got front row seats to your relationship development

“OMG my roommate is the worst she ate all of the frozen strawberries”

“Y/n kidnapped Storm all day while she studied and I thought I lost the fucking cat asjvdk”

“I had to run down and talk to the landlord because we dropped a pot of pasta sauce all over the carpet and couldn’t get the damn stain out.”

“She is so nice in preparation for a family dinner zoom, she ran out to the local Filipino food place and pick stuff up.”

“Sorry I’m late I overslept and didn’t want to wake up Y/n.”

They weren’t stupid, and could clearly see how whipped he was.

Dream and Geroge teased him about it constantly.

“Woah, calm down Sap, you should probably tell her you love her before you propose.”

“Yeah Dream’s right, it’s kinda weird that you’re living together before ever dating.”

He always flushed and denied it with a shake of his head.

He wasn’t into you, are they crazy?

Quackity and Karl messed with him in more unorthodox ways

There are a solid number of clips where they are fake crying over how he’s cheating on them, and even more tweets to match

It only got worse when you met them accidentally.

He was chatting post-stream on a video channel with George, Dream, Karl, and Quackity, and just his luck, you came into his room.

Like of all the times you could walk in, it was the time he was with his five closest friends but I digress

“Yo I got some extra tips yesterday so I picked up some extra Red Bull if you want to do one of your weird all-nighter streams.”

“Y/n I’m on channel.”

“Oh shit sorry my b. Catch.”

All the guys heard was a thud and a groan from Sapnap as the six-pack hit him in the chest.

Dream was the one to recognize your name.

“WAIT IS THAT Y/N I WANT TO MEET THEM!”

You could hear Dream’s voice through his headphones

“Sap… who is that?”

“No one. I’ll be out in a sec to help with dinner.”

You could hear a British voice come through.

“Oh so we are no one now, huh.”

Another voice piped through.

“Common... ¿Qué intentas ocultar?”

You cut in.

“Your headset it shit my guy. I can hear everything. I’m down to talk to them.”

He let out a groan.

“Fine. But you’re gonna have to do the dishes tonight.”

“Deal. Now move.”

“What? No.”

“Fine bitch.”

You collapsed onto his lap, plucking the headphones off of him.

“Hello, Sapnap’s friends. I am Y/n. A pleasure to meet y’all. Can you hear me?”

You heard a series of laughs through the headset, and a voice came through.

“Yes, we can see you too. I’m Karl, it’s so nice to finally meet his girlfriend.”

A blush rose on both of your faces, and another voice came through.

“Yeah, we’ve heard lots about you. Plus we can’t see your face in that picture Sap sent us. I’m Quackity”

That remark stopped your embarrassment in its tracks.

“What the fuck? How do you guys know me? I’m not even his girlfriend? And what picture?”

Sapnap grabbed your arm to calm you down as another voice cut in, but his one you recognized as his friend Dream.

“Hey, it’s okay. He just talks about you a bit, and the picture I believe was of you holding like three cats with like a red bull can on your head.”

“Jesus fucking christ why do they have that photo??”

He looked guilty but chuckled.

“Because that photo is a damn masterpiece.”

Karl’s voice came back in with a giggled.

“Soooo, Y/n we’d love to hear about you. Specifically anything funny or embarrassing that you have learned by living with him.”

Sapnap let out a groan from behind you as you went off.

“WELL lemme tell y’all, he has no cooking knowledge, well I mean, now he does, but one time, about a year ago, I had I been keeping a pot of water boiling for about an hour, soft boiling eggs, cooing noodles, blanching bok choy, etc. but this fucking genius is like ‘oH tHe HaNdLe Is StIcKiNg OuT. LeMmE mOvE iT wItH mY bArE hAnD.’ Needless to say, he burnt the crap outta his hand and kept the bag of frozen blueberries on it for the entire night. It took me like a solid five seconds to actually help him because I was laughing.”

By the time you had finished that story, you had seen Nick roll his eyes like 5 five times while the rest of the guys were wheezing.

“Yeah, well remember the time you were trying to imitate Rapunzel after we had watched it over Zoom with my sister, and you swung the edge of the frying pan into our head and got a nasty bump on it? At least I moved quick enough to put some ice on it.”

“Ice? It was the damn leftover Slushy that I had been freezing.”

“True, but you got to drink it after, so it was a win-win situation.”

“Sap, I had a bump the size of a golfball coming off of my temple. There was no winning.”

“Fine, you’re just making me sound like such a shit roommate.”

“No that’s not true, you do all of the talking to the landlord, and you at least tried to muffle the noise when you stream.”

“I guess that’s true, but you do like 80% of the cleaning.”

“Yeah but only because you’re working. Plus in the past 6 months, you’ve made coffee every morning, AND made sure I was taking my meds.”

“Those things aren’t that hard and I do it to make sure you don’t die because I lo- care about you.”

“What?”

“What?”

You heard Dream’s wheeze laugh and remembered that you guys were still on call.

“Smooth.”

You both went red, and Sap moved his arm around you to leave the channel.

The next few moments were complete torture, the two of you just sitting in silence.

You were wondering if he meant what he was about to say and he was scared that you had heard it.

He was the one to break the silence. (mind you you’re still sitting on his lap lmao)

“I’m sorry about that.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Should you ask him if he meant it? Because that wouldn’t be that bad. Or just pretend it never happened. Nah that’d be hella awkward. Or-

“I love you too.”

“You what?”

Wow, okay your brain is being a little bitch rn, but fuck it. Balls to the walls baby.

“I love you, and I have for a while now. I just want you to know.”

You finally looked him in the eye, and he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thank god. I love you, and nearly fucking told you for the first time in front of my friends accidentally. Damn, I’m smooth.”

You laughed and he smiled wider.

“Can I kiss you?”

After a quick nod he swooped in and holy hell his lips felt great. His arm wound around your waist and your hands made their way to his jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

The only thing playing in your mind was “and they were roommates”