#they are using signal they are texting they are doing everything they can to avoid logging into that server that requires 3FA and a key

[hagbrigade]

tbh unsurprising that they were using signal but still. fascinating that they just added so many people to a chat like that and didn’t even double check who was who. also from the screenshots cannot believe some of them had honest to goodness white background headshots as their profile pic. On signal.

[biteyoubiteme]

needy jealousy

yeonjun x fem!reader x kai

synopsis: your boyfriends decide to join nonutnovember.

warnings: 🔞!!! throuple/poly, established realtionship, no mxm, no protection, mentions of cum eating, creampie(s),she/her used prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.4k

an: not proofread pls have mercy im so sleepy, I told myself I would keep these under 2k and im a liar bc as soon as this came in I knew I wouldn't be able to make it short ;-; hopefully it’s good lol thank you so much for the request @apeachty ily and you know exactly what I want to write next without even trying lol our minds are linked. also peep the reference to busy signal! anyways I have a whole bunch of other yeonkai x reader fics so check them out if you want!

[m.list] [1kevent! m.list]

“no,”

“what do you mean by no?” yeonjun asks, “You can’t or won’t?” He's leaning back against the headboard, scrolling on his phone when he gets the message in his group chat. 

“I won’t,” you shrug, snuggling closer to Kai. He's half asleep, nose pressed to the back of your neck, arms loosely wrapped around you. 

“It's only one month, you’re saying you can’t go one month without sex?” 

“Not that I can’t, just that I won’t. It’s so stupid if I want to cum I will, with or without you,” you pat the back of huenings hand resting against your stomach. “I do have two boys to take care of me,” 

kai chuckles, sleep ridden in the rumble on your back, “I’m going to try it,” 

“I cannot believe both of you are falling into peer pressure, just cause the other boys are doing it doesn’t mean you have to,” 

“I was told if I hold out longer than beomgyu I get a free coffee for every day I last,” yeonjun flips his phone for you to see his chat, and sure enough everyone is bragging about how they could make it till the end of November without getting off. 

“Fine, do what you want. I’m not going to sit and beg you,” holding up two fingers you wave them in his face, “I can do it myself,” 

“You don't even know how to use these,” he grabs at your wrist, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. 

“I'll spend the month learning, or I'll just use the vibrator and the two of you will just have to sit and watch,” 

It seemed like such a light threat at the time. Not one that you would hold to but it wasn't as if you needed to hold it in the first place. Only two days in and it felt like both of them would fail. Neither of them brought this up to you, but it wasn't like they needed to, the signs were everywhere. 

Yeonjun had taken to spending time in the office when studying, all of his school work done with no time left for cuddling on the couch with you. More time spent working out with taehyun and less flirty texts in between sessions like he usually sent. Huening on the other hand was slowly closing off. His tight responses ended in silence, hardly answering in your group chat. Even in bed at night both of their backs turned to you as you lay there looking up at the ceiling. 

It wasn't as if you all were sex addicts, what the challenge really was, was knowing that you couldn't do something vs. just not being in the mood. It was the forbidden fruit effect spread out before them. Everything you did now was hot even if it was the most mundane thing imaginable. The season was changing and now even just watching you take off your coat after coming in from outside was enough to get them hard. Just the idea of taking your clothes off, even just one layer, was enough to send them on their way to their respective avoidance programs. 

You could be laying on the couch, half asleep, and answering a question with a hum and they were done for. Even worse at night when you would change, or come fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping, leaving your shirt spotted with wet dots, the fabric getting cold enough to make your nipples hard. It was a curse to witness you walk out into the living room with your shorts showing so much skin. 

And you could see it on their faces, the way their jaws tightened, throats bobbing as they swallowed. You had never seen Kai look so expressionless. Every little thing is pent up inside him, the negative aura radiating off of him as you sit down between them. Even just seeing your bare thigh sent them into the other room. 

A week in is around the time you think they are going to break. Yeonjun coming home from his workout, hair still sweaty and sticking to his forehead as he wraps his arms around you from behind. His soft kisses on your neck as you prepare a cup of tea. “Want one?” 

“No, I'm good,” his hands traveling under and up your shirt. It was the first time since that conversation in the bed that he's put his hands on you in any way besides helping to guide you by the small of your lower back. You melted into his hold, head rolling back, letting him feel over your skin. 

Neither of you hear Kai's feet padding across the apartment's floor. Don't notice him standing right in the doorway until he clears his throat, “so you've given up already?” The accusation sounds more like a warning. It's like he's thrown a bucket of ice water over yeonjun, the realization crushing his forgetfulness. He tugs his hands away from you like you're a hot stove he's gotten too close to. “Jjunie-” 

He doesn't even look up, hand over his eyes as he turns away, “No, I'm going to take a very cold shower,” 

“I'll join!” it's mostly a joke, your giggle making them both scowl. 

“No, stop talking about being naked around me right now,” 

“Why?” you ask, leaning against the counter, tilting your head as he tries to wave away the word. Your smile stuck as he walked away. 

“You're evil,” he tosses over his shoulder leaving you alone with huening. You can feel him standing there watching you. His hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie while he leaned against the door frame. 

“Do you want some?” you ask, pouring a spoonful of honey into your mug. He watches the way it dribbles and sees a dot drop to the counter, your fingers scooping it up and taking it to your mouth. 

He watches you suck the honey off, not even caring that he's right there watching, hands tightening into fists as he thinks about the way your tongue would feel. He thinks he's hiding it well, that you can’t tell he's struggling so much. But he's so obvious, shaking his head and muttering that he's going to bed early. He swears he is never this horny, the two of you have gone well past a few weeks without having sex before and not even thinking much about it. Only now it’s all he can think about and it's making him feel sick, his stomach tightening every time he sees you in a room, like at any moment it won't be him you go to first to ask to get off. 

Never has he been so jealous in his life, not even about yeonjun for kissing you but over your own fingers. Even if you caved and asked yeonjun to be the one to take care of you he wouldn't mind, he'd give up without question, but the idea that you can just walk around and sit with your own hand down your pants was what was killing him. 

He could see it in his head, could picture that time you were struggling to get off with tears in your eyes, how he helped you just like you needed, yeonjun over the phone telling him to take care of you. He wanted that, he needed that. He wanted to help you again, he wanted you to help him, and yet he also wanted to last longer than yeonjun. 

But you had had enough of watching the two of them being so avoidant. Feeling plagued by kai’s mood and yeonjun absence over something so stupid was annoying. Not caring about your tea you followed after Kai. He was already climbing onto the bed, curling up away from your side, arms crossed and eyes closed as you hopped in after him. 

He doesn't acknowledge you are there even when you sneak your arms under him, wrapping him up and being the big spoon behind him. You press your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting smell, humming right against his ear. 

“Hyuka?” it's rare you use the nickname, only when you really want something, kai associating it the most with your desperate calls for him to touch you. You can feel his body tightening, your leg raising to lay on top of his, tugging him even closer to you. “You're so tense,” Your hand on his stomach rubs in soft circles over the fabric of his hoodie, his breath hitching every time you pass over the waistband of his sweatpants. “You know I could help with that,” 

Kai pulls himself away from you, all the way off the bed as you roll on your back. The little smile on your lips eating him alive. He was hard, painfully so, watching you there softly roll your hips, beckoning him. He can hear the sound of the shower, the beating water, the only other noise in the room, the light under the door fanning out around the floor. He watched you sit up on your knees, right at the edge of the bed, hands reaching out to tug him closer to you. 

He let it happen, caved, and leaned down to rest his forehead on yours, eyes pinched closed as he muttered, “You're Killing me,” he could feel your smile when you kissed him, arms wrapping around his neck. 

You had him right where you wanted him, his whimpers between kisses only pushing you on, pulling him back to the bed. He didn't say anything as he laid back against the headboard, your legs straddling him, and your hands already pulling off his top. “I shouldn't-” 

“I won't tell,” you say in between kisses, his erection pressed into your thigh. “We can be quick, yeonjun won't even have to know,” 

“He’ll know,” kai’s not even trying to keep it down, his soft whimpers leaving every time he rolls his hips to try and gain friction against your leg. “And I won't stop after just once, I don't think it will be enough,” 

Both of you jump at the sound of yeonjuns voice, “What is this? My girlfriend in bed with another man?” Neither of you had even heard the water turn off, the steam still wafting out of the bathroom behind yeonjun as he rubbed a towel against his wet hair. 

“Oh no Huening, I think my boyfriend caught us,” sometimes the three of you liked to joke like this, poking fun at the idea of what others thought about your relationship. But Kai wasn't in the mood. He wrapped his arms around you, flipping you over so you were on your back and he was on top pushing you into the mattress. 

“My girlfriend, my bed. I want first,” he leaves no room for argument, his mouth back on your neck, hips grinding into yours. 

“Giving up so early already Huening, I knew you couldn't last,” yeonjun tisks, he sits back in his chair in the corner of the room, his favorite view for moments like this. His towel is draped across his bare shoulders, arms crossed as he looks right at you. “And you, I'm sure you teased him into it,” 

“no, I’d never do something like that,” 

“Liar,” they both say at the same time, kai’s face pressed against your neck, hot mouth working down your throat. You wrap your legs around him pushing him closer, his breathy whimpers right in your ear. Twisting your fingers into kai's hair you pull on the strands, your smile eating yeonjun alive. He could tell himself he wouldn't cave but he knows it's a slim chance when he sees you like this with huening. 

Not when he watches the way your lips fall open when kai pushes into you, the sweet little sounds you're making leaves him hard in seconds. It's worse now too because you're looking at him like you know exactly what he's thinking. And you do know, it's not too hard to guess as he leans back with his arms crossed, knuckles turning white as he readjusts in his seat to try and find some kind of relief. 

Kai didn't even feel the need to strip you, pushing your panties to the side and not worrying about preparing you. The guttural moan he released when he was fully seated inside you reverberated against your whole body. He was a mess of whimpers, arms wrapping around you pulling you as close as he could, shallow thrusts in apology for ever denying himself from you. “Never again- I won't- I can't-”  he's trying to get the words out, broken moans filtering through each breath he takes. 

“He can't even talk, and I'm not even going to judge because if it's anything like how I remember I'd be just as bad,” yeonjun mutters, his jaw so tight he hardly opens his mouth to say it. 

“Jjunie,” you moan, tugging kais hair as his hips stutter against yours, “don't you want to cum for me?”  

Kai won't last hearing the word come from your mouth, every thrust just making you wetter, your warmth pulling him in. He's surprised he even lasted this long before he felt his first orgasm. If it wasn’t for the way he starts to tremble you wouldn't have noticed that he has cum already, not when he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t even slow down. 

“Don't give me that look,” yeonjun warns, but it is not like you can help it when kai is pulling one of your legs up by the back of your knee, his hips sinking deeper, your eyes rolling back at the new depth. 

Yeonjun doesn't even notice how his own hips are moving, leaning back just enough in his chair so that each roll gives him the just right amount of friction against his oversized sweatpants. He's trying not to make it obvious just how hard he is but he's finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off himself and away from you when the headboard starts to creek against the wall. 

Huenings lets out a mix of grunts and whimpers, his cum making you so much easier to slip in and out of, the soft slapping sound of his thighs against yours drowning out any other thought in his mind. “Look at me,” he's gasping, pulling back just enough so that his hand not holding your leg can grasp the headboard, softening the sound for only a second before the bed is back to squeaking. 

You don't deny him, his hair hanging around his eyes, mouth open as he feels the first tingle of overstimulation, thin silver chain necklace dangling just above your chin. His knees are digging into the mattress, the angle pushing him so much deeper. You reach down with one hand to rub on your clit, the other scratching at the back of his neck. 

He's finding it hard to keep his eyes open as he tried not to cum again, “God you look so pretty like this,” 

“Did you miss me?” 

“Fuck yes, I missed this- I missed your pussy so- so much,” he trails off in a whimper, head tossed back exposing his throat to you. 

Your orgasm is so close, aided by all of his desperate sounds. When all of his little ‘ah-ah’s’ get close together you feel yourself tip over the edge. Kai can’t handle the way you clench around him, the both of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don't notice the way yeonjun has to close his eyes. He's begging and praying that he could be stronger than he is but this is too much for him. 

Worst still is how you look over at him at just the last second, a taunt caught right in your creased brow. He can't even take the pressure of his pants anymore, he tugs them down, cock hitting his stomach, heavy and aching. It does little to cure him of this need. 

Kai lets go of the headboard, arms pulling you closer as he peppers your face in kisses, his happy giggle pressed right to your pulse. “Do you feel better?” 

“So much,” he sighs, “I don't even care about losing anymore I just wanted- no I needed you so bad,”

“You know who else needs to forget the stupid bet?” your eyes are trained on the way yeonjun is trying and failing not to move his hips. Every micro-movement brushing his red tip against his skin gives the smallest amount of relief but not enough. 

“Don't talk like I'm not right here,” his eyes are closed, fingers leaving imprints on his biceps. 

“You should help him,” Kai continues, nose sliding down your cheek before he gives a soft kiss to the edge of your mouth. He pulls away, leaning back on his heels as he pulls out of you, quick to move your panties into place to catch any of your combined release in place to not spill on the sheets. 

Standing on shaking legs you stand, stumbling until yeonjun pulls you on top of him. He's groaning as soon as you straddle him, his hands on your hips like a vise. “Why torture me?” 

“No one said you had to watch, I was content with not letting you know but you sat down and didn't look away,” your nails lightly scratch over his chest, his humming response matches the subtle way he's trying to grind up into your clothed clit, panties wet and warm against him. 

“I'll just put it in, I won't even move, I just- I need something,” it's like he's asking permission, wondering if this will mean he's failed, if you'll tell on him. Huening chuckles from the bed, knowing the truth because the second yeonjun slips in he won't be able to help himself. 

“Okay, I won't move either,” you slip your hand down to pull your underwear to the side, the dribbles of your slick and kais cum leak all over. Dripping onto yeonjuns veiny cock and stomach. You try to wipe it away, your fingers on him making his ads flex, cock jumping when you put your fingers to your mouth, sucking away the saltiness. You barely get your fingers away from your mouth before yeonjuns kiss you. His favorite taste is you mixed with cum. 

When you sink down on him both of you moan, the sound caught right in the back of your throat, his eyes squeezed tight as he tries not to thrust up into you. He's devastated to find that you feel even better than he remembered, his hold on your hips almost bruising as you clench around him.  

“This was a horrible idea,” he’s gasping, “oh shit- i-,” he's cut off by your first attempt at moving up and down. “No, don’t, I won't be able to last-” 

“But jjunie-” you whine, hand pushing into your lower stomach, right over where you can feel him pressing so deep into you. “I wanna cum again,” 

“She's so greedy,” Kai adds, your hips rocking back and forth enough to leave yeonjun speechless. 

Clit grinding onto his pelvis, you don't even care about bouncing anymore, the perfect friction to get you off, the tip of his cock pressed right against your g-spot bumping over and over with each movement of your hips. “You're going to have to get off, I can't lose- I won't-” 

But it's not like he's letting you get off of him, he's actively helping you grind down on him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, “faster-” he's moaning, your hands on his shoulders for leverage before you're falling apart, your toes curling, every noise pressed right to his ear. The way your walls are fluttering around him makes his balls tighten, “I just won'tcum I just won't- I won't - I- fuck -oh fuuuckk,” He's not even stopping now, thrusting up into you to ride out his high, shoving all his cum as far as he can get it, not worried anymore when it feels this good. 

“You're the worst,” yeonjun chuckles after the two of you have caught your breath, “I love you so much, but actually you're evil and I love it,” 

“It's not my fault you couldn't help yourself, I told you it was stupid,” 

“I just won't tell anyone this happened,” he shrugs but kai laughs from the bed. 

“I already told everyone you lost,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[honeydewandcake]

“Shrimpo, you’re pathetic”

This was based on the note found in Shrimpo’s room! I have so many theories and speculations on everything in his room it’s actually making me go crazy

Read more if you want to listen to my insane ramblings!! ↓

So I have so many things to talk about —

Firstly, the punching bags and holes in the walls. Shrimpo’s hatred towards everyone is always usually verbally, but in his room there’s proof that it’s physically too. This leads me to believe a lot of things:

— Shrimpo is somewhat strong, at least strong enough to break through the walls.

— Shrimpo tries to at least control his anger. He could easily beat someone but he limits himself by only being a verbal bully. He must relieve all his more aggressive emotions in private in his room.

— The wardrobe in his room is partially blocking holes he presumably made. This could either mean that he is embarrassed or he’s trying to hide it to avoid getting in trouble.

Overall, it’s clear that Shrimpo’s anger is a lot more than people might have expected

Secondly, the papers. There’s plenty of other toons that also have crumpled paper in their rooms but to me Shrimpo is the most interesting. Shrimpo is definitely not the type who writes, but the note and trash says otherwise. A few things I immediately think of is:

— Shrimpo can write, but everything he writes is always deemed “not good enough” by him and thrown away.

— Shrimpo is either willingly writing things or being forced to write by others (possibly as a required thing by directors and such).

— The note on his desk can tell a lot about him. The fact that he only writes about the things he hates is expected, but the way it continues is more interesting. He repeatedly writes “hate” over and over and it gets bigger. To me, this looks like Shrimpo having a mental breakdown. It’s not uncommon for someone who’s venting out their frustrations to repeat a phrase or word, but the fact that it gets bigger makes me think Shrimpo is writing it more desperately. He could have been writing to relieve stress but it only made him more frustrated, causing a slippery slope into a terrible episode. If this was in writing and not text, I expect his note to be sloppier than it seems.

— Shrimpo’s discarded paper can mean anything, but the thing I immediately think of is ideas or failed writing. Someone in a server I’m in brought up the idea that the reason why Shrimpo has only posters of himself in his room is because he’s reminding himself of all his flaws. Maybe his writing helps him cope with that or he’s trying to come up with ideas of how to be better.

Shrimpo’s room also has many knocked over furniture. He has multiple desks, traffic cones, trash cans, and a coat hanger.

— This supports my theory that Shrimpo is a lot more aggressive in private. He knocks over furniture out of frustration, imagine someone flipping a table because they got upset at something.

— Shrimpo’s room could have been a storage room. It seems to be more bland (could just be Shrimpo not liking decorating) and it has a lot of useless things. Really, the only thing that makes sense for a room is the desk, wardrobe, and bed.

— A confusing thing to me is the airhorns in his room. Shrimpo could be using these or they just came with the room. If he did use them, it would probably be on other toons as a “screw you” signal.

Sorry I talked so much, usually I don’t like doing this but I needed to yap for a good 5 minutes about my favorite toon. I love you Shrimpo!! No one could make me dislike you!! I will make many, many more theories for you. . . .

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT TWO: SMOKE SIGNALS

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: Natalie makes an unexpected appearance in your life, again. Shocker.

wc: 16,550

warnings: violence/description of injury, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of gun violence, mentions of substance use (alcohol and recreational drugs), emotional distress/trauma, smut(afab!reader), first-time mishaps

a/n: this is a long ass chapter. i had to sacrifice multiple teenage soccer players to some entity in the forest in order to publish this. shout out the wilderness for proof-reading and helping me with everything <3

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT TWO: IF YOU'RE TOO SHY (LET ME KNOW)

NEXT - NATALIE'S INTERLUDE TWO

It's been weeks since you last talked to Natalie. Sure, you've seen her around the halls at school, but she's made it a point not to even glance in your direction. You'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt.

Time has moved by in a blur of early sunsets, biting wind, and the slow buildup of snow on the streets as New Jersey heads deeper into winter. You’ve managed to keep yourself busy—trying to spend time with the friends you had before Nat, reading whatever books you can get, pouring yourself deeper into your studies, and retreating into the pages of your sketchbook. 

Still, no amount of distractions has been enough to banish her from your mind completely. The absence that she leaves is louder than you thought it would be. 

For such a short time of knowing her, you feel like you've known her much longer; maybe that's half the problem. Every time your phone buzzes, some delusional part of your brain hopes it's her, even though you know better.

You’ve replayed that 'fight' in your head a hundred times, searching for the exact moment things went wrong, wondering what you could have said—or not said—to change the outcome. Should you have just let her kiss you despite the fact you were uncomfortable in that situation? Should you just not have said anything? Should you—

Your thoughts have been spiralling a lot recently.

The snowstorm that arrived earlier this week has only made things worse. You've been stuck at home for days with nowhere to go and nothing to do but listen to the endless bickering of your parents. It's enough to make you want to scream.

Outside, the snow continues to fall to the ground in large, fluffy snowflakes, blanketing the ground and trapping you in this suffocating stillness. You swear that if the roads don't get plowed soon, you're going to lose your mind.

You sit by your window, head resting on the cold glass. The roads are supposed to be clear come morning, which means you'll be back to school soon, but you find yourself dreading the return. 

You don't know if you could manage Natalie avoiding you for the rest of the term, let alone the rest of the school year. You've thought about texting her countless times. But what would you even say? Maybe apologize for how you acted that night—but what would you even say sorry for? For poking into her information? For being concerned about her? For wanting to get to know her?

Fuck.

She was the one who walked away from you, anyway. Why would—no, why should you be the one to reach out, right?

Fuck.

Even now, as you sit beside your window, you keep your phone in your hand with your fingers stuck hovering over her contact name. You can't even count the number of times you've done this song-and-dance since that day, but it always ends the same way—with you getting frustrated and throwing your phone onto your bed. 

Today is no different.

With a huff, you toss your phone onto your bed and cross your arms, petulantly clunking your head against the window pane. You should be over this, over her, by now, your brain uselessly provides. 

Before you can think deeper into this, your phone buzzes once. Whatever, it's probably just your mom saying dinner is ready. 

Then twice. 

Okay… little strange, but maybe she was just sending a follow-up message to clarify something?

Then your phone starts ringing. Your mom is persistent tonight, huh?

Yet, when you check your phone, it isn't your mom. No, this is much more unexpected. Natalie is calling you.

You can't help it when you just stare at the screen, slack-jawed, wondering why the hell she's calling you now, of all times, six in the evening on a Wednesday. In your shock, you accidentally let the call go to voicemail. Fortunately, she's calling you back right away. She is nothing if not persistent. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you answer the phone on the fourth ring, trying to keep your voice steady. "Hello?"

There are a few moments of nothing but static, and you're starting to wonder if this was her idea of a prank call, and then you hear a sharp exhale. "Hey," Natalie says, voice rough and strained. "Listen…" A shaky exhale leaves her lips, "I, uh, kinda need a favour, Princess."

You scoff immediately at that, ready to start listing off all the reasons that you don't owe her shit, that you deserve better than this, that you—

"Please," comes out from the speakers—barely audible, but there. "Please," she repeats, "and bring a first-aid kit, if you have one."

"Woah, woah, wait—" You start shaking your head in confusion despite the fact she can't see you. "First-aid kit? Nat? What the hell is going on? Are you okay? What the fu—"

"Princess," Nat snaps, though her voice is still shaky. "I'll explain later, I promise." You hear a grunt of exertion from the other end, "I just… need some help right now. I'm out front."

You run back to your window and see a beat-up Ford Ranger from the eighties idling on the street. "I, uh, I…" A shaky exhale parts from your lips, and you blink rapidly, "Okay, okay. I just… okay. First-aid kit. Out front. Okay. Okay. I'll, uh, I'll be right there."

The line clicks off as you start throwing on whatever clothes you can find to face the weather outside. Admittedly, a hoodie and jeans aren't going to help keep you warm, but they'll do for now. Hopefully, she has heating in her truck.

Your parents barely acknowledge how you run downstairs and into the bathroom on the main floor, grabbing the kit from the wall before running back out and scrambling to throw on some shoes.

"You going somewhere?" Your dad asks from the couch, not bothering to look away from the TV screen, "In this weather?"

"Uhhhh…" You blink, trying to think of an excuse or reason why, "I just… going crazy inside the house. Gonna go visit… the… Monroe's! Yeah, I'll go visit the Monroe's." 

Your mom waves her hand idly at that, dismissing you. "Okay, sweetie. Say hi to Janet for me. Have fun, text us later."

Well. You suppose having parents who barely care is useful now and then.

A noncommittal nod and you're out the front door—immediately met with the bitter cold and fluffy snowflakes you've been avoiding for what feels like years. Fortunately, there isn't much wind, so it's not as bad as it could be.

You stumble your way through the snow that your father has (conveniently) forgotten to shovel after the last snowfall, grumbling to yourself as you try not to faceplant into a snowbank. By the time you reach Nat's truck, you swear your fingers feel like they're gonna fall off. Maybe you should have worn gloves. Whoops.

Throwing the passenger door open, you clamber inside the cab with a huff, eagerly soaking in the heated interior. "Oh, thank God. It was so cold out—" You turn to look at Nat and see her looking at you with a cut lip, bloody nose, bruised left eye, and a wince. "What the hell happened to you?" Comes out before you can stop it, those damn worries overriding any anger you had about her calling you up just for a 'favour.' 

"Tell you after I stop bleeding?" She offers with an attempted smile that looks more like a grimace.

A beat passes as you stare at her and try to assess her injuries (and how she got them) without touching her before Nat clears her throat awkwardly, "So, got that first-aid kit, or…?"

"Right." You blink a few times before snapping out of whatever haze you were in and fumble with the kit for a moment before popping it open and digging through its contents. "I, uh, have some antiseptic wipes and band-aids…" Sparing a glance back up at Nat to reassess her wounds, you frown to yourself. "Although I really don't know how much help a band-aid would be for what you have going on."

Nat snorts, which causes her to wince in discomfort, then raises her hands for you to see, "Yeah, but it might help with some of the cuts on my knuckles." 

Her knuckles aren't in a much better state than her face is, dark red and purple spots colour her usually pale skin. She has more than a few minor cuts decorating the tops of her hands, but the largest one—a throbbing cut on her right hand—creates a streak of dried blood that runs down her wrist and under the sleeve of her leather jacket.

"What the hell were you doing?" You ask, immediately moving to grab her right hand and inspect the injury. "Jesus Christ, Nat! You need to start—"

"Princess." Nat cuts you off, her face still contorted in barely concealed pain. "I will tell you whatever you wanna know after we deal with this shit, yeah?

With great reluctance, you stop your prodding and pull out some supplies from the kit—antiseptic wipes, band-aids, gauze, and some skin-safe tape. "This…" You sigh, "The antiseptic is gonna sting a little, probably."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Nat rolls her eyes—acting tougher than she actually feels—then proceeds to wince and let out a low hiss the second the wipe makes contact with a cut. "Fucking… shit…" But she doesn't pull away, letting you quietly clean her right hand of dried blood, allowing you to see how bad the cuts are.

As the excess blood is gradually removed, you begin to notice how vigorously Nat is shaking. When you glance up at her face, it almost looks like she's trying not to cry, but you can see the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. If you didn't know better, you'd say something about it.

So, rather than speaking on it, you clear your throat and return your attention to cleaning her hand. "Uh… do you want me to clean up the blood that went under your jacket sleeve? It's just a little…" A nervous laugh spills from your throat, "I can't clean it off with your jacket in the way."

Nat blinks a few times in response, seemingly forgetting you were there in favour of not crying. "Oh, nah. It's fine. I don't have any injuries on my arms or whatever. Blood can be cleaned off later. More concerned about…" She grunts and flexes her hand, "I'm more concerned about the shit that's actually hurting."

"Is your face 'actually hurting' too, or just your hands?" You murmur, more to yourself than her, as you look back up at her face and the injuries that reside on it. "Because you've got some stuff up there I should probably clean, too."

A noncommittal groan leaves her lips, and it appears that's all the answer you're going to get to that question. You get the feeling that Nat isn't exactly the type to ask for help unless she really needs it, and although her face is most likely hurting as well, she isn't about to admit it.

When you get her hands cleaned up, it's more evident that her right side suffered the most. The left has some bruising and a few tiny knicks, but nothing that you'd need to put a bandage on. The right has considerably more damage—deep abrasions run across her knuckles; skin split in places where it had taken the brunt of whatever impact caused this. The largest cut is a wicked thing, stretching from her index finger to the base of her thumb, red and raw despite the dried blood you’d wiped away.

Bruises in varying shades of purple and green bloom along her knuckles and the back of her hand, stark against her pale skin. A faint swelling around her middle knuckle suggests she may have hit something—or someone—too hard, too many times. It’s the kind of injury that’s not just painful but one that will linger, a reminder of whatever fight she got herself into.

You sigh as you take a bandage from the first-aid kit, apply some gauze to the wound, and then wrap it to keep it in place. "You'll need to take care of this after I finish here; you realise that, right?" You already know she isn't going to properly take care of this cut after the two of you part, but at least you can say you tried. 

"Yeah, yeah." Nat grumbles, "I'll wash it and keep it real clean, just for you." 

A sharp huff leaves your lips at her statement, "You know, Nat, you really need to start taking better care of yourself." You grab a safety pin to keep the bandage wrap in place, "What would you have done if I didn't have a first-aid kit? Or wasn't here? Or didn't wanna speak to you?" Maybe you 'accidentally' stab Nat's already bruised hand with the safety pin as you put it in place, but she deserves it. Probably. "Like, seriously. What would you have—"

"Okay," Nat cuts you off, pulling her hand back the second the pin is set. "I get it. But I don't need the fucking lecture, yeah?" A tense beat passes before she speaks again, quieter this time. "But… I 'preciate it. You… being here for me, or whatever. After all the shit…" She sighs heavily, glancing down at the empty space in the bench seat between the two of you. "Thanks, or whatever."

You get the feeling that's the closest thing you'll get to an apology and let out a heavy sigh of your own. "Yeah, well…" A shrug, and you're glancing back up at her face. "Do you…" You clear your throat, "Do you, ah, want some help with the marks on your face?"

"Oh." Nat looks at you, "Uh, yeah. Go ahead."

Grabbing a fresh antiseptic wipe, you lean in and begin cleaning her face to the best of your abilities. As you lean closer, you first notice the cut on her lower lip—a thin but angry line, the skin split and swollen slightly at the edges. Dried blood clings stubbornly to the corner of her mouth, and when you dab at it with the antiseptic wipe, she hisses and attempts to move her head away.

"Stop moving." You mumble out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to maintain the position her head is in, "It'll only be worse if you keep moving, Nat." 

Her nose isn't fairing much better, darkened with a deep bruise that spreads across her bridge and down to her left nostril. Dried blood is crusted just under where the bruise ends, staining the normally pale skin. From how her nose is swollen, you get the idea that it might be broken, but there's no way to tell.

Unless…

Still holding her chin with one hand, you take your other and pinch the bridge of her nose, to which Nat immediately tries to pull back from you with a sharp hiss of pain, but your grip on her is firm. And, fortunately, "I don't think your nose is broken." You murmur as you release her nose and return to assessing her injuries.

"You had to fucking grip it like that?" As you continue your work, Nat snarls—or attempts to, but she really isn't that scary right now.

"Sure did," is the only response you dignify her with, now turning your attention to her left eye. The aforementioned eye is a striking sight, the skin around it already shifting into shades of deep purple. It’s swollen, but she can still open it enough to glare at you when you press too hard with the wipes.

A faint scratch runs along her cheekbone, the depth similar to one of a paper cut, but appearing as though she just missed a greater injury. Another minor knick marks her jawline, the red line about the length of the switchblade you've seen her carry around.

You work carefully, trying not to flinch at the sight of her injuries, your hands steady even as your stomach churns. Nat, true to form, stays mostly silent, though her jaw tightens with every dab of antiseptic. The tension in the air is thick, but she doesn’t push you away for once.

When you finish cleaning her off (leaving a small mountain of antiseptic wipes in your wake), you sigh as you properly look at her. The usually infallible Natalie Scatorccio looking like a wounded puppy, and it genuinely makes your heart ache.

You close the first-aid kit before attempting to meet her eyes, but she's pointedly looking away from you. "Nat…" You sigh, "Would you please tell me what happened? Why you ended up looking like a side character from Fight Club?"

Nat hesitates, jaw tensing up again as she glances out the windshield. "I…" A deep sigh leaves her nose, and she clenches her left hand on the steering wheel. "Only if I can get us out of here. I… I don't wanna talk here. I feel fucking suffocated in this shitty ass town."

"The roads are terrible, Nat. Where the hell would we even go? And your truck isn't exactly—"

"I have a place." Nat cuts you off, "I have a place I can take us, and I can handle the roads. I can handle the drive. I just… fuck. I need to get out of this town for a little."

Maybe you're dumb for this, but you don't even hesitate when you say "okay."

"Thank you," Nat says quietly as she puts the car into gear and starts pulling away from your house—

"Wait!" You say, fumbling to put your seatbelt on, "You don't have your seatbelt on! And the roads are really bad, and you're already hurt—"

She cuts you off with a dismissive wave of her hand and a snort, "Jesus, alright, I'll put the fuckin' seatbelt on. Relax." And she does, making a display of putting on her seatbelt before continuing to leave your neighbourhood.

"Gonna be a long drive, Princess." Nat grunts, turning the volume up on whatever she was listening to before you sat down in the car with her. "Get comfortable."

It is a long drive.

And Nat doesn't talk the entire time. You try to prod for questions, but she always dismisses you with a grunt, wave of her hand, or just straight-up ignores you. Which, on its own, is very frustrating. But couple it with the last interaction you had with Nat before this? Oh, it is very frustrating.

So, by the time you get to your destination, you're about ready to blow a gasket with how frustrating this goddamn woman is.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell happened to you yet?" As she parks her truck, you huff out, "Or are we just gonna sit here and get nowhere?" 

"You wanted to know what happened?" Nat takes her hand off the gearshift and faces you, one arm resting on the seat behind her while the other stays perched on the steering wheel. "Ask your questions. I'll fucking…" She exhales hard through her nose, "I'll answer them. Just…" Nat reaches across the car and opens the glovebox, taking out a flask. "I'm drinking."

Your mouth drops in shock as she opens the flask and greedily drinks whatever liquid is inside of it, making a face when she pulls away from the opening. "Shit, that burns. What the hell is in here?"

"Nat—you don't even know what you just drank?" You grab the flask from her, looking down into it as if you would be able to tell what is inside of it from vision alone. The liquid—which you can barely make out in the lack of light—appears to be dark brown and has a scent you don't recognize but smells like it is very strong.

She rolls her eyes and grabs the flask back from you, "Relax, it's probably just moonshine or some shit like that." A dismissive wave of her free hand and another swig from the flask before she caps it again, "You gonna ask your questions or just stare at me like I drank lighter fluid?" 

"You might as well have if we're being honest." A deep sigh parts from your lips as you settle back in your seat, "I just… okay. Why were you beat to shit? And… and why does it look like you also beat someone to shit?"

Nat runs her tongue over her teeth, leaning her head back against the seat with a groan. "Shit, where do I even start?" Her left hand tightens around the flask, and her knuckles go white momentarily before she loosens her grip.

"Maybe start with the fact someone went to use your face as a punching bag? You know, that seems like a good place to start."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Nat sits up straighter, tapping the flask against the steering wheel in thought. "You remember that guy Denny?"

Your jaw tenses at the name, and suddenly, you're back in that abandoned house all those weeks ago. "Yeah, uh… I remember." It's hard to forget, after all. Hard to forget when the name that carries the face is burned into your mind.

"He wasn't too happy with me today." She glances through the windshield, but you get the idea that she's not actually looking at anything but just into the night's darkness.

"Clearly," your voice drips with sarcasm, but the worry that you've attempted to mask with it is unmistakable. "What happened?"

Nat hesitates, still unable to meet your gaze or face you again. "I was supposed to have something for him—money. I, uh, I didn't. He got pissed. We argued. One of his guys tried to step in, and…" She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "I didn't take it lying down. I did far too much of that growing up." A bitter smile crosses her face, but it looks more like a sneer than anything.

"You fought them?!" You sit up, face incredulous. "Nat! That guy runs with a crew! You're just one person, and you're already…" You gesture to her bruised features frantically.

"Yeah, I know." She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, "But I couldn't just… let them walk all over me. I know it wasn't my brightest moment, okay? I don't need the reminders, already got enough of those." Nat flexes her hand underneath the bandage, wincing slightly at the skin, pulling at the cut.

Your lips press into a thin line as your brow furrows, frustration and concern boiling over in waves. "And now what, Nat? What if they show up again? What then? Will you be safe or end up like this again?"

A sharp, humourless chuckle leaves her, "Safe? Oh, Princess. I haven't been safe a goddamn day in my life. I won't fucking be safe until I die, and even then? Who knows." She scoffs, hitting the steering wheel with her left hand in frustration, causing you to flinch slightly at the display of anger.

You swallow, shrinking back into your seat. "Is there no one to help you? I swear I remember them mentioning something about your 'old man'? Can he help?"

Nat scoffs ruefully, "My dad has been dead for years. Who do you think was kind enough to give me this debt?" She takes another swig from the flask, then scowls when she realises it's empty and tosses it onto the dash. "I'm the one left to pick up the fucking pieces."

A frown crosses your face at that, and you genuinely don't know how to respond for a long moment.

Eventually, when words come to you, you try offering something, however small it is. "I may not have the money to help, but… I'm here for you, Nat. I wanted to be weeks ago, but… I'm offering again now."

"You shouldn't have to be there for me." She says immediately, a knee-jerk reaction to the idea of someone caring for her. "You shouldn't be."

You shake your head, "But I want to be, you know? And… you can't make me not care. You're stuck with the knowledge that I do, in fact, care and want to help."

Despite herself, Nat lets a laugh part from her lips. It bubbles slowly, eventually spilling into a loud sound that you can't help but return. The small space of her car is filled with egregious laughter from both of you, ultimately resulting in tears beginning to prick at your eyes. 

When the laughter subsides, that turmoil that had bubbled between the two of you feels lessened to some extent, and you're grateful for the respite in the tension. 

"I've got a lot of baggage, you know?" Nat says quietly, almost like she doesn't even realise she's saying it out loud. "Dead dad who was a deadbeat, mom who spends her days passed out on the couch bitching that the guy that used to fucking beat her daily was actually a 'good guy.' Blames me for his death. Fuck, I blame me for his death. If I just fucking…" She cuts herself off and closes her eyes, jaw tensing once again. "It's fucked up, Princess. My entire life is just… fucked up. You don't need to get involved with it." 

"But I am already." You say quietly, fighting the urge to reach out and squeeze her hand in a show of support. "I mean… even without all the bullshit, I'm already involved in your life. We were…" You hesitate a beat before deciding you're already in too deep to care that much, "I think that we were friends, even if you don't. You… showed me your world, Nat, even if it was just fractions and slivers."

Nat's lip trembles, and it looks like she's holding back tears.

You get the feeling she's never had someone truly express their care as you did.

"I asked the questions I did that day because I wanted to know, Nat. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."

Her eyes close now, and she looks away from you properly, facing out the driver's door window. "Why?" She murmurs softly, voice breaking slightly. "Why? Why do you… fuck. Why do you give a shit?"

A scoff falls from your lips at that, "Seriously? Why do I care? Nat… you're a decent person, despite whatever the fuck you think. Like…" You try to think of an example, remembering when you and her went to that convenience store, "Like that time you stole that Buzz Ball for me! You only stole it because the clerk shortchanged you! Would you have just taken it if he didn't?"

A beat passes in silence before you hear a meek "no…" pass from Nat's lips, followed by a short sniffle.

Is… is Natalie Scatorccio crying? You didn't think that she could, but… well, you learn new things every day.

"I said all that shit to you after Denny left…" She trails off, vaguely wiping at her cheeks, "I don't deserve you."

"Maybe that's true." You smile softly despite the fact she can't see your face right now. "But I'm here anyways. And… I wanna know the shit. The stink. All of it, if you'll tell me."

Nat shakes her head, glancing at you for the first time since this conversation started. "It's a lot of 'stink,' Princess. There isn't much… fresh laundry scent in my life to talk about."

You shrug, "That's fine. I told you I wanted the stink, didn't I? Promise I got a strong nose."

The blonde sighs deeply, clearly battling with her words and debating whether she wants to tell you anything. She rolls her neck and leans back in her seat, a frown tugging at her features.

She finally speaks after a long moment of tense—slightly uncomfortable—silence. "The stink." She murmurs, glancing through the windshield again. "The stink is probably bad enough that it would fucking put a landfill to shame." The words come out harsh, and she takes a shaky breath before continuing. "Fine. You want the fucking trauma?" She glances back at you for a moment, and upon seeing that you genuinely seem to care, she deflates slightly and turns her head away again.

"My dad…" Her voice falters, and she swallows hard. "He wasn't a good guy. Mean as hell. Could make you feel small just by lookin' at you." Her fingers flex around the wheel, turning pale beneath the cacophony of bruises. Her gaze remains pointedly away from you as she speaks, and you get the feeling that if she were to look at you, she'd start crying. "He drank a lot. Sometimes other shit if he could get his hands on it." A rueful scoff, "That's probably where I got it from."

You don't interrupt, letting her get the words out, but a part of you almost aches to comfort her despite the hurt she's given you. She's had it worse, after all, hasn't she? What are some choice words on a single night when she's had the odds stacked against her her entire life?

"Wasn't just mean to me, though." She continues, voice quiet and bitter. "Mom usually got the worst of it. I was just the kid who was too scared to fight back. Until one day, I finally fucking tried to."

Her jaw tightens again, and she takes a shaky breath, a single tear falling from one of her eyes. "I was fourteen. He came home pissed—he always did, but I made the stupid fucking mistake of thinking I could have someone over while he was gone. It's not like I was even doing anything." Her upper lip twitches, a fragment of a sneer. "Just had a fucking friend over. I was painting his nails, and we were listening to music." A moment passes, and she swipes at the tear that fell before continuing. "Was yelling some shit. Mom came in to see what was going on, and he started hitting her." She runs her hand over her face, "I grabbed the shotgun we kept by the door. Didn't even think about it, you know? Just pointed it at him."

"Called my bluff. Went to pull the trigger, and I had the fucking safety on." A bitter laugh leaves her throat, bubbling as another tear falls. "Made a show of showing me how to turn the safety off. Called me and my mom fucking useless and left the trailer." Nat's laugh falters, and her expression shifts from a bitter smile to a vague frown, lower lip trembling in an effort not to cry. "I called out to him that he was the useless one. He turned around to say something and started walking back to me…" She shakes her head, hands trembling as she recalls the memory. "He tripped. Never turned the safety off. A shotgun-sized hole was in his head a second later."

A sharp inhale follows her statement, and you can see the bitter resentment that she's kept just beneath the surface since that moment. "Cops called it self-defense or some shit. Mom didn't see it that way and said I took away the only person who ever cared about her—started drinking more, smoking more, all that shit."

Denny came around a few months later, claiming my dad owed him. Took one look at me and decided that I'd be the one to repay that debt. God knows my mom couldn't give a shit."

The two of you sit in silence for a long minute after that. You don't dare speak; break the silence between you as Nat desperately tries to look like she isn't on the verge of a breakdown. 

"There," she finally utters once the silence becomes too much to bear, "that's the 'stink,' Princess. The fucking shit that got us where we are right now." She glances back at you again, and you can see the water in her eyes just begging to fall. "Still wanna stick around?"

You hesitate for a few seconds before giving her a slight nod, "I think I do, yeah."

"You're too good for this shit, you know that?" She murmurs, expression looking almost vulnerable. 

"Probably," you reply with a faint smile. "I'm here anyway. So… tough luck, Scatorccio."

For the first time tonight, a short but genuine laugh leaves Nat. "You… you really gotta stop pronouncing my last name like that. It's Scatorccio."

"Scatorccio?"

"No, Scatorccio."

"...Scatorccio?"

"No, Princess. Fucking…" She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, then immediately winces when she remembers that it's insanely tender right now. "Scat-or-she-o."

A beat, "I think I'll just call you Nat."

Nat laughs again, "Yeah, just call me Nat. That works, too."

"Is there… can I ask more questions?" You ask hesitantly, then immediately regret the words the second they leave your lips. She just told you what is arguably the most traumatizing event of her life, and you want to ask questions. Fucking hell.

"Yeah. Uh… ask away." Nat nods, "And don't give me that face. I promise you I can handle answering a few questions after that, Princess—I'm not made of sugar, not gonna melt."

You smile to yourself, "It isn't related to… well, it's kinda related to that, but it really isn't. Uhh… it's just questions about the… rumours?"

She sighs and rolls her neck, "Okay. Ask."

"Right, uhh…" You blink, partially surprised she's being so open with this, but… she did just tell you about her dad, so maybe she's just in a generous mood? "I guess I'll start with the biggest ones? Uh… like… you being a massive player?"

Nat frowns slightly, her tone bitter. "What are you asking? If I'm a 'slut'?"

"Woah, woah!" You immediately counter, throwing your hands up defensively, "I didn't mean it like that, Nat. I just wanted to know your side of the rumours, is all."

A heavy sigh leaves her, and she deflates momentarily, "Yeah, I think 'player' is a nice word for it, considering the other words people have used. But… I've only slept with three people. None of the experiences were great. I've made out with a lot of people at parties, but I've only actually been with three people properly."

"Okay… uh… when we went to the skatepark the first time, you told me about some of the shit that you've done. Was that everything? Or is your, uh, rap sheet longer?"

"Mm, mostly what I told you. The Mazda wasn't boosted on a dare, but Denny told me I needed to do it. I don't know how I didn't get caught." She sighs, glancing up at the roof of the truck as she tries to remember everything, "Let's see… shit that I actually got booked for, though? First thing that got me behind bars was disorderly conduct. It was right after my dad died and…" She gestures to nothing, "I was in a shit mood. Got a few nights. The thing that landed me in juvie for the summer was a second-degree robbery—you probably remember it; everyone does. Was when some guys robbed that convenience store, and only one was caught. It's public knowledge I was the one that was caught."

"I'm guessing it was Denny's idea? The robbery, I mean?" You prop one leg up on the bench seat and turn your body to face her, "I'm guessing most of the shit you've done was his idea, actually."

Nat nods, "Yeah. Was one of his 'do this to help lower the debt' ideas. Fuckin' store had less than a hundred in the till, and none of the assholes knew how to crack the floor safe that they used for deposits. Fucking dumbasses." She spits, "I could have sold them out for less time. Knew that they'd make my life a living hell if I snitched, so I kept quiet."

You nod, digesting the information. "Right. And, uh, last one. The whole… 'druggie' thing."

She huffs and cuts you off before you can keep talking, "Yeah, that I shoot H and snort meth rocks? I don't." A beat, then her sardonic smile falters. "I didn't even start doing shit until late sophomore year. Denny and his gang move dope, and I've always had a hard time saying no. So, when it was offered…" She shrugs, "I did some lines. But it's not something I do often."

"How often do you do it, then?"

"More than some, less than others," she says sharply, clearly uninterested in continuing that line of questioning. "I can't afford to be addicted to it. I don't have the fucking cash to throw around."

"Right, right, yeah." You nod, quickly looking to soothe the nerve you've struck. "Can I, uh, ask why you let the rumours go around, then? I mean… if they're all so untrue, why let them fester?"

Nat shrugs, "People don't give a shit. They'll believe whatever they want to. Keeps the idiots I don't want around me at arm's length, anyway. If you're gonna believe whatever is told to you without finding out the truth yourself, then you don't deserve the truth."

You don’t know what to say to that, so you settle for leaning back in your seat and letting the weight of the conversation settle around you.

"Thanks for telling me," you finally say, breaking the silence. "All of it."

Nat looks at you, her expression softer now, almost... grateful. "Yeah. Thanks for listening, Princess."

The quiet stretches between you again, but this time it feels different. Not heavy or suffocating, but... peaceful. It's nice.

You think you could get used to sitting in silence with her.

You aren't sure how long you sit in silence with Nat. Maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour, maybe several. You do know that the silence is comfortable, and you can tell she appreciates having someone she can just sit in silence with.

By the time the two of you return to your house, the snow has stopped falling, and the night has grown darker.

Nat's beat-up truck pulls to a stop in front of your house, and she puts it in park before turning to face you. "Y'know, Princess, I appreciate what you did. Helpin' me, and whatever." She grunts, "Y'didn't have to. So… thanks, I guess."

You hesitate to remove your seatbelt and realise that… you could invite Nat inside. I mean… nothing's stopping you. Your parents have for sure gone to bed by now or are too impartial to care, so you doubt they would even notice. And, after everything Nat just told you, you aren't quite sure if you want her to be alone tonight. Maybe you're a little too empathetic for your own good.

"Did you… wanna come inside?" You offer hesitantly, "You can… I mean… I could make us some hot chocolate? It's still really cold out, and…" A beat passes, and your voice quiets, "You don't have to go back to your trailer tonight if you don't want to."

Nat blinks at you, her brows knitting together like she's trying to decide whether the offer is a serious one or not. "You sure?" she asks after a long pause, voice hesitant. "Don't wanna, y'know… overstay or whatever."

"You aren't overstaying anything," you say quickly, then clear your throat, trying to act like you aren't overly enthusiastic at the idea of her coming inside your house. "I mean… it's just… you're already here. And, like I said, it's cold out."

Her lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but not the usual scowl you would find on her face, either. She takes a long look at her bruised hands gripping the wheel, flexing her fingers before nodding once. "Right. Alright. But no funny business, yeah? I'm not tryna—"

"I know!" you wave her off, pushing open the truck door and immediately heading towards your house before your nerves get the better of you. "Just… hurry up before I freeze to death standing out here, ‘kay?"

You hear Nat snort from behind you right before her truck door slams shut, and she quickly catches up with you, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets as she trudges up the snow-covered driveway.

The house is dark and quiet, save for the faint hum of the furnace kicking on. You discreetly toe off your shoes and dust the snow off your shoulders, glancing back to make sure Nat does the same. 

She hesitates momentarily, eyes flicking around the dimly lit space before finally removing her combat boots. She shrugs when you shoot her a curious look at her leather jacket not coming off. "I wear it everywhere. Take it off later." 

"Right," You murmur, turning your head towards the stairs. "C'mon. My room's upstairs."

The climb up your stairs feels like it takes ten minutes rather than ten seconds. Maybe it's because you're inviting Nat into your personal space, and that makes you nervous. Or maybe it's because you've never had someone who's kissed you in your bedroom before, which also makes you nervous.

Okay, maybe you're just nervous.

When you finally reach your room, you push the door open and step inside, gesturing for Nat to follow. "Make yourself comfortable," you say, a little trepidatiously. "I’ll, uh, grab that hot chocolate I mentioned. Be right back."

"Wait, wait—" Nat says, giving you a strained chuckle. "You're just… leaving me alone? In your room? I mean… I could, just…" She scoffs and gestures at your dresser, "I could just dig through all your shit or whatever."

You pause and look at her, confused. "I mean… it wasn't the first thing I thought of? The most you'll find anywhere is my sketchbook, and I've already shown it to you before," you shrug, "I really don't have that much to hide, Nat. I'm not that exciting of a person." A nervous sound escapes from your lips as you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. "I, uh, wasn't thinking about you doing anything like that until you mentioned it."

Nat blinks, likely shocked that you didn't immediately assume she was going to do something 'bad,' "No, I mean… yeah, no, I'm not gonna do anything. I wouldn't… I'm not gonna like… dig through your shit. I don't even know why I said that. I'm just…" She glances around your room before sitting on the very edge of your bed, clasping her hands in her lap and clearing her throat, "Yeah. My bad."

A moment's hesitation passes before you nod and take your leave from your bedroom, heading back downstairs to get the hot chocolate as planned. By the time you return with two steaming-hot mugs (with marshmallows for added comfort), Nat has made herself more comfortable on your bed, brows furrowed as she flips through your sketchbook.

"Hey," you say softly, setting the mugs down on your desk. "Find anything you like?"

She glances up at you, appearing slightly flustered that you caught her, but quickly schooling her expression to one of neutrality. "These are wicked." She returns her gaze back down to the page, tapping on a sketch you did of an old lady on a bus. "You're fucking talented."

Your cheeks flush, and you immediately begin to wave your hand dismissively. "It's nothing special—"

"Don't." Her voice is firm but not unkind. "I mean it. You're talented. Don't sell yourself short."

You sit on the opposite side of the bed from her, pulling your mug into your hands. "Thanks," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, never quite sure how to react to praise.

Neither of you speaks for a while, sipping on your drinks in comfortable silence as Nat thumbs through your sketchbook. For a moment, you're relieved that she didn't select the sketchbook you had spent the past month drawing her face into. That would have taken some awkward explaining. You aren't even sure what you would say to her. 'Yeah, I've just spent multiple days drawing you over the past few weeks because I couldn't stop thinking about you. That's totally normal, right?'

As you sip your hot drink again and try to ignore the thoughts, Nat finally speaks up. "You meant it earlier? About, uh, being there for me?"

You meet her gaze, startled at her sudden… vulnerability? is that what you would call this? "Of course I meant it," you say without hesitation. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

The blonde looks down at the mug in her hands, flexing her damaged fingers around it. "You're too good for this. For me."

"Well, too bad," you nudge her shoulder with your own and shoot her a goofy grin. "You're stuck with me. Sorry."

She huffs a quiet laugh, shaking her head, but you catch the slightest flicker of something you can't quite name behind her eyes. You doubt she'd ever be the type to be truly open with her feelings, but you suppose this is enough for now.

"I didn't…" Nat's face falls slightly as she sets her mug down on the nightstand beside your bed, "That shit I said the last time we spoke. I didn't mean it. About me just… 'trying to see you naked,' for the record. I just…" Nat grunts and waves her hand away, not offering an apology, but you doubt you'll ever see one in your lifetime anyway. "I was talkin' about myself. Askin' why I was like that. Not you."

"Asking why… you… kissed me? Or reacted the way you did?" You ask hesitantly, not wanting to break the fragile peace you've created between the two of you.

Nat makes a face at that, leaning her head back against the wall with a sigh. "Both? Neither? I don't…" A frustrated huff of air leaves her nose, "I don't know. That's why I was asking—because I don't know why I'm like that–fucking… reckless."

You shake your head, "You say 'reckless' like it's a bad thing. If you weren't 'reckless,' we never would have become friends, you know?" You tentatively scoot a little closer to her, unsure if this is the time to provide a reassuring touch. "I mean… I never used to do half the things I do. What was it you said? That I live in a bubble?" A strained laugh parts from your lips as you rub the back of your neck, "I mean… you weren't really… wrong. I wasn't exactly the most adventurous person before I met you."

Her jaw clenches as the air settles after your statement, but she doesn't look angry. If anything, she seems almost contemplative. "Y're not… mad?"

A light-hearted scoff leaves your lips, and you playfully shove at Nat's shoulder. "Oh, I was mad. For a while." Your smile falters marginally as you consider how to word your following sentence properly, "But… I was more hurt than anything, Nat. I just… I didn't know what I did wrong."

"Did nothing wrong," Nat grunts almost immediately, "I was just… I was being a dumbass. 's weird having someone say that they 'worry about me' since no one has ever really given a fuck."

"And if I told you that I 'give a fuck'?" You ask softly, scooting closer again until your knee bumps into hers. "How would that make you feel?"

"Fuckin' weird," is Nat's immediate response, "I would—nah, I feel fuckin' weird knowing that someone gives a fuck. It's…" She makes a face, something between a scowl and a sneer, "strange." Nat finally turns to face you, her eyes hiding an emotion you can't decipher. "But it still means something," comes out in a whisper, and for a moment, you swear that emotion you can't decipher is vulnerability. 

"Does this mean something?" You gesture vaguely between the two of you, "Us? You being here?"

Nat hesitates, her gaze flicking between your face and the vague space in front of her, weighing her next words carefully. "I don't know," she admits, voice low and rough. "This… whatever this is… it's new. Feels weird."

"But not… bad, right? Like… a bad weird? But more like a good weird?" You ask cautiously, trying to keep your tone light, but you worry she can hear the trepidation in your voice.

Her lip twitches, and for a moment, you think she might brush it off with a joke or sarcasm. Instead, she leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. "No," she says quietly. "Not bad."

As the words settle, you both fall into momentary silence again, the atmosphere feeling heavy but not suffocating. You find yourself hyper-aware of the space between you, the way her knee is so close to yours it’s almost touching again.

"You're staring," Nat says suddenly, her lips quirking into a smirk that doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Not that I blame you. Pretty hard to look away from this." She gestures vaguely to herself, trying to recapture her usual bravado.

You roll your eyes and can't help the small laugh that falls from your lips. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, well…" She shrugs, her smirk fading into something softer. "You don't hang out with me for my stellar personality, Princess."

The words feel like a deflection, and you narrow your eyes slightly at it, refusing to give into that train of thought. "Well, guess what? I actually think I do."

Nat's eyes narrow slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You seriously think that? You don't just… hang around 'cause I drag you into shit?"

You have to hold back a laugh as you shake your head in disbelief. "No, Nat. I hang around you because I want to. Shocking, right?"

Her gaze flashes around the room before meeting yours again. "Yeah," comes out in a hoarse whisper, "I actually think it is."

The weight of her words settles between you, and neither of you speaks for a moment. You can tell she's wrestling with something, and you give her the space to figure it out. Eventually, she leans back, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress as she looks at you more directly.

"Wasn't it you that said you don't have to understand everything or something like that?" You shrug, hesitating for another moment before leaning forward again. "Something about… bursting my bubble? Well… maybe it's my turn to burst your bubble, Nat. If you've been throwing me into your life for the past few months, maybe it's time I give you a little bit of insight into mine."

Her lip twitches, and she looks down, shaking her head slightly. "You make it sound so fucking easy," she mutters, her voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t quite place. "Like I can just…" She trails off, scowling slightly.

"Maybe it can be," you counter gently, reaching out on impulse to brush a stray strand of blonde hair from her face. The movement is soft and unexpected, making Nat freeze almost immediately. Her eyes snap to yours, sharp and shocked, and the air between you shifts to something more… tense. Not exactly a bad tense, per se, but tense nonetheless. 

Then, a moment passes, and Nat pulls back from your hand with a shocked and confused expression. "Woah, woah, what the hell are you doing?"

You blink rapidly, immediately dropping your hand to your lap. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I don't even know why I did that or what the hell came over me. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

She waves her hands to dismiss your thoughts and cut you off, her face shifting back into that unreadable expression. "Why did you… why the hell did you do that?"

"I…" Your voice trails off, and you look down at your bedsheets in shame. "I don't know. I've never… done that before. I guess it just… felt right. Or… I thought it felt right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I don't know why I—"

"Stop." Nat cuts you off, her sharp tone causing your eyes to flash to her face once again. "Just… stop for a second." She takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose, then immediately winces again when she remembers it's still bruised and tender. "You…" A disbelieving laugh spills from her lips, one that bubbles slowly and dissolves into her next sentence, "After that shit I pulled, you seriously still want to do…" She gestures vaguely between the two of you, "Whatever the fuck we're doing?"

Your brows knit together in confusion—like you didn't just spend all night fussing over her injuries and learning about her upbringing. "I invited you into my house, Nat. I mean… you're…" A sigh leaves you, "You're here. I… yeah. I think I want to do 'whatever the fuck we're doing' if you still do."

The blonde looks at you in confusion, eyes searching your face for any sign of deceit or indication that you don't want this. When she doesn't find any, her hand twitches in her lap, and she tentatively reaches forward, placing a hand on your knee. 

Neither of you speaks for a moment, the quiet atmosphere charged with something more—something that you don't think you've ever felt before. Her hand traces up your arm gently, as though she's mapping it, before coming to rest on the side of your neck.

You should say something. You should look away. You should do anything but what you’re about to do. But then she’s leaning in, and you’re not sure if you’re moving too or if it’s just her, but suddenly her lips are on yours, rough and urgent and so very Nat.

The kiss is overwhelming in every sense of the word. She's all desperation and aggression, and you can feel the built-up tension in her body as she leans into the kiss, as if it's something she needs and has needed since that night all those weeks ago. It takes you a second to catch up and understand what's happening, but you kiss her back this time despite the tachycardia causing your chest to feel tight. 

But then she's shifting, tongue gently probing—no, forcefully probing at your lips, trying to push past the seam of them. You feel her hands on your biceps, squeezing at them as she pulls herself closer to you, settling into your lap and wrapping her arms around your neck as she finally pushes past your lips, her tongue sliding against yours. You try your best to return the kiss, you really do, but it's obvious she has leagues more experience than you do in this department, but… Nat doesn't seem to care in the slightest about your lack of experience.

Your hands dangle uselessly at your sides, unsure what to do here. You've never had a girl—or anyone, really—sit in your lap. It's a little overwhelming, to say the least. Nat seems to notice this, and despite the fact you are returning the kiss, she pulls back to look down at you. "Hey… is this… okay?"

You immediately nod and clear your throat, "Yes. Uh, yes. It's okay. I just…" A nervous chuckle escapes from you, and you glance away in an attempt to hide the blush that's blossoming on your cheeks. "This is sort of new for me."

"New?" Nat asks, tilting her head slightly, like a dog who just heard a sound they weren't so sure about. "You… you've kissed before, yeah?"

A sound of uncertainty parts from your lips, "I mean… yeah, I've kissed. But I've never done anything like this before. The whole… making-out-in-my-bed-with-someone-I-really-like thing, I mean."

Nat mumbles out the words you just said, digesting them, and then her eyes fly open in realization. "Oh," she blinks, then shakes herself out of whatever daze she was in and gently grabs your chin to make you look at her again, "Hey, hey." She says softly, her hand moving from your chin to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, much like you did to her earlier. "No matter… no matter what anyone says, this," she gently rakes her fingers through your hair, "means something to me. Like… it—it really means something." A moment passes between the two of you before she speaks again, voice soft and gentle. "Especially with you."

You nod, a small smile twitching on your lips as you lean forward and kiss her again, the action slowing down significantly compared to how it was before you told her—in a roundabout way—that you were a virgin. She appears comfortable with letting you take the lead now, but provides small encouragements without forcing anything. 

Her lips curl into a soft smile against yours, and although your heart still feels as though it's beating a million miles a minute, your chest no longer feels as tight. While you learn how to kiss her properly, Nat moves her hand from your hair to your shoulder, then trails down your arm until her fingers intertwine with yours.

"You can touch me, you know," Nat mumbles, guiding your hands to her waist. "I'm not fragile, and I'm not gonna bite… unless you ask, of course." She grins to herself when your hands find purchase on her waist, just under her leather jacket but over the fabric of her thin tee. Even with the cloth barrier, you can almost feel the heat of her skin radiating through it. "Yeah, like that. Don't be afraid."

Deciding to be bold for once in your life, you move your lips to her jaw, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across her pale skin, and Nat rewards you with a shaky sigh. "God, yeah. Like that. A natural, really." 

She rolls her head back, giving you access to her neck. Who are you to deny such an invitation? You brush your lips lower, tracing over her pulse point. "No marks—" Nat says as she discards her leather jacket, tossing it precariously onto your floor. "No marks, please," she reiterates once her jacket is ditched.

You nod against her neck, tracing your mouth across her delicate skin—the same skin you've imagined brushing your lips again for much longer than you'd ever care to admit. "Fuck, you're a fast learner," Nat says with a breathless laugh, her hands running back up your arms to rest on your shoulders, squeezing them softly in a wordless display of encouragement. 

Spurred on by her words and touch, you let your hands slide up from her waist, fingers splaying over the fabric of her shirt. The outline of her ribcage shifts slightly beneath your touch as she takes a deep breath, the movement providing the incentive you need to continue. Your lips trail further down her neck, skimming over the hollow of her throat, her scent—something faintly musky with a hint of cigarette smoke—filling your senses.

Your hands hover, momentarily unsure of your actions before you finally gather the courage to slide them under the hem of her shirt. The feel of her skin beneath your fingertips—a mix of soft warmth and a few unexpected ridges of faint scars—makes your breath hitch. 

Nat notices your immediate hesitation because, of course, she does, and one of her hands runs back up to tangle in your hair. "You're good," she breathes out, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. "You're doing fine. I'll tell you if you do something I don't like, yeah?"

With her reassurance, your eyes wander along with your hands. Your gaze drops to the curve of her chest, hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt but still ample enough that you can make out the swell of her breasts. Your hands, eager to feel that region your eyes have wandered to, continue to drift up her torso, her skin warm and shifting slightly under your touch.

When your thumbs graze the underside of her breasts, both of you let out a quivering breath. "Yeah," Nat breathes out, "like that, babe. Keep—keep going…"

Babe, you think, that's a new pet name. One I could get used to.

Despite your sudden burst in confidence, this lingering hesitation rests on the back of your mind—I have no idea what I'm doing. You glance back up at her face trepidatiously, and you're sure your expression is a combination of bashful and nervous. "I, uh…"

"Hey," Nat whispers, "we don't have to do this if you don't want to. Seriously, it's okay." Her voice is reassuring—gentle in spite of her rough exterior, and it soothes you in a way that you weren't quite expecting. 

"No, I, uh, I want to. I just…" You fumble with your words, trying to find the proper ones to describe how you're currently feeling. "I want to. I just… I don't know how this is supposed to go."

A warm—almost affectionate—chuckle leaves Nat's lips, and her fingers gently rake through your hair. "It's not a test, Princess. There's no 'supposed to,' yeah? Just do what feels right." A beat, "I'll help you out."

She pulls back from you slightly, and you almost whine at the loss of the feeling of her fingers in your hair, but then she's—

Oh.

Oh.

Natalie Scatorccio—the object of your fascination for an uncomfortable amount of time—reaches down to the hem of her shirt and pulls it off over her head, tossing it in the general direction that she threw her leather jacket.

"Just do what feels good," she repeats in a breathless tone of voice as she returns her hands to your shoulders, one of them moving up to cup the side of your neck. 

You find yourself instinctively leaning into her touch as your eyes fall to her freshly revealed skin, slightly flushed in the dim lighting of your room. You can't exactly make out the fine details of it all, but you don't need to see. You just need to feel.

Even with that thought in mind, your hands linger in their position, which earns a soft huff from the girl currently seated in your lap. "Princess," she grabs your wrists and moves your hands up a little higher so that your palm is placed loosely over the fabric of her red bra, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. "Just feel, yeah? Stop overthinking it. This isn't…" A scoff leaves her lips, and she gives your wrists a reassuring squeeze. "Not a test or some bullshit. Feel."

So, 'feel' you do.

Your hands tentatively squeeze her breasts, mouth drying in sheer awe of what is currently transpiring, and you meet her gaze again.

"Fuck," you murmur, then lean forward to capture her lips with your own.

Nat immediately returns the kiss, releasing your wrists in favour of moving her arms to rest on your shoulders and wrap around your neck. You lead, but it's impossible to miss how she shifts slightly in your lap and presses herself closer to you with a small sound you could almost call a whine.

Your hands and mouth slowly get bolder as the kiss continues, and between your palm kneading the soft flesh of her chest and your tongue sliding against hers, you feel a familiar warmth begin to pool in your lower gut. The sensation causes you to buck your hips up into hers, earning a gasp from Nat in turn.

"Oh," Nat pulls back slightly, using her hands on your shoulders to keep you from moving back in to continue the kiss. "Yeah, I think we're a little too dressed for that."

Before you can protest it, Nat is pulling off of your lap to remove her pants, and as you sit and watch her nimble fingers pop the button of her jeans out, it occurs to you that you are also overdressed.

A moment's hesitation passes before you begin discarding your clothing, trusting the room's dim lighting to keep your nervousness hidden from her gaze. Your shirt comes first, followed quickly by your pants, attempting to kick them off as fast as possible, causing them to get caught at your ankles, which earns a soft laugh from Nat as she watches you struggle.

"Here," she says, approaching the bed again and helping discard your jeans properly, tossing them in the general direction her clothes went.

Your breath catches in your throat when Nat returns to your lap, her bare thighs coming to rest against yours as she straddles you again. Feeling the warmth of her naked skin against yours for the first time causes your brain to short-circuit for a moment, and all the confidence you've acquired over the past ten minutes immediately goes out the window at this new sensation.

Nat senses your lack of action immediately and huffs out a laugh at your awestruck expression. "Jesus, babe. Just… do what you were doing when I had my clothes on, yeah? Touch me the same. It's just without barriers this time." She grabs your hands and places them on her waist once more before wrapping her arms around your neck, "Remember, no overthinking things."

You nod slightly, swallowing down your nerves at this new situation as you map out the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. Every touch earns a quiet hum of approval from her, a sound that stokes the warmth already pooling in your gut.

"Mm, yeah, keep going." Nat hums in agreeance with your actions, tilting her head to recapture your lips in a kiss. Although she's the one initiating the kiss this time, she takes it considerably slower than the first time she kissed you tonight but doesn't fail to provide the occasional teasing nip to your lower lip.

One of her hands shifts to cup your face, holding you steady as she deepens the kiss further while her other tangles itself in your hair. You feel the texture of the bandage you applied to Nat's hand earlier brush against your skin as her thumb gently caresses your cheekbone. As one of your hands idly traces its way up a scar, you don't even realise that it's snaking around to the clasp of her bra until you feel it underneath your fingertips and pause in uncertainty. 

Nat pulls back enough to meet your eyes, her hands never leaving the place they've found themselves. "You're good, she whispers gently. "I want you to take it off, would have stopped you by now if I didn't, yeah?"

With another nod, you begin fumbling with the clasp of her bra with one hand. Quickly realising you're out of your depths, an apology is mumbled to her as your other hand moves to join the one currently struggling in its task of undoing the hooks. Your apparent lack of experience in taking off someone's bra earns a low laugh from Nat, but it's hardly cruel—rather, laughing with you instead of at you.

When you successfully separate the bra clasps, Nat lets the fabric fall from her breasts, and she tosses it carelessly on the floor before placing her hands on your shoulders and giving you a look you could only describe as pure, unbridled lust. The sight of her nude tits causes your breath to stutter briefly, leaving you frozen for a few seconds too long.

The blonde leans in, her breath tickling your ear in an effort to break your stupor. "Touch me," she murmurs, "I'll tell you if you do something I don't like. Promise."

Your hands move of their own accord, sliding around to her front and grazing over the skin as you explore her curves with reverence. Every movement earns a reaction—a soft sigh, a sharp inhale, or a quiet hum that makes your confidence grow with each passing second.

When you tweak a nipple between your thumb and forefinger, you can visibly see your confidence doubling at the reaction Nat gives you—a sharp gasp that leaves her mouth as her head tilts back, hips grinding down against yours once more.

"Keep—keep going, yeah, keep doing that. Don't be—fuck—don't be afraid to touch me. Promise you I want it…" Nat breathes out as her hips roll languidly, her hands having a difficult time deciding where they should rest on your body, eventually just deciding to grip your hair and pull your face close to her chest.

There is no resistance you offer as she guides your head, and despite your previous hesitations, you run your tongue across the nipple that you don't currently have in your hand.

Fuck, your daydreams don't compare to the actual sensation of her skin beneath your tongue, of her nipples pebbling underneath your eager touch.

For a moment, you don't think anything could ever compare to this feeling of Natalie in your lap, your hands on her skin, and her nipple between your lips. 

That is, of course, until she gives you a gentle shove backwards onto the mattress. Her nipple releases from your mouth with a soft popping sound as your back hits the bed. And, okay, maybe this vision of her on top of you is also a really good feeling.

Nat sighs, grinding down unabashedly into you while her hands grip your shoulders for some leverage. Her eyes fall closed as her jaw becomes slack, and her hips press needily down into yours. "Fuck," she hisses, "Jesus Christ, we're doing this."

The words don't sound shocked or surprised, just… want and the slightest hint of desperation; both sounds you aren't exactly used to hearing from one of the most vilified people in school. In the time you've gotten to know her, she's never even come close to expressing any of those emotions around you. That being said, it's a sound you like and crave to hear repeated over and over and over again from her lips.

"Y-yeah," you agree after a long moment, just watching her move atop you, "we are. We, uh, we are doing this."

A breathless laugh comes from the woman on top of you as she continues to move her body, "I need to know who you're trying to convince. Me, or you?" She slides her unbandaged hand from your shoulder to your jaw, running her thumb over your lower lip. "God, you're gorgeous," she murmurs, hips slowing for a moment as the words leave her. 

She appears to consider saying something else briefly, but that consideration is gone just as quickly as it appeared, opting to speak with actions instead of words. The hand that is still on your shoulder runs down your torso, stopping right over your sternum and in between the valley of your breasts. No words leave her as she lets her eyes drift up lazily to meet yours in the soft, lunar glow.

You know what she's asking without words, anyway. She wants to touch you. She wants you to remove your bra. She wants you. Despite knowing these things, you still find yourself feeling insecure about removing the final barriers between the two of you. If anyone were to ask you, you'd tell them that the girl straddling your thighs is a work of art—a masterwork crafted on a canvas that had been beaten down by thousands of small events over the years, but a masterwork nonetheless. A voice tells you that you pale in comparison to her, but you know now, partially thanks to Nat, that you can't keep living life by letting fear control you.

So, you hesitate for a few seconds as you think about all the possible scenarios and outcomes of her seeing your uncovered breasts, then you think fuck it and sit up slightly to remove your bra and toss it onto the growing pile of clothes on your floor. 

When you lay flat again, you don't meet her gaze. You can't help it; you know your face is burning at the reveal of your skin, but Nat doesn't seem to be nearly as off-put as you are. 

"Jesus Christ." Her hands move over your breasts, delicately running over the sensitive skin prickled with goosebumps. "You have no idea…" She starts moving her hips at the same speed she was previously moving them at, a soft moan falling from her lips as she kneads your breasts in an exploratory fashion. "No fucking idea…"

Nat never finishes that sentence, much more concerned with moving her hips against yours and feeling the soft swell of your tits beneath her calloused hands. Her touch is exploratory, as though she doesn't have much experience with the actions she's currently taking. Regardless, she seems to be enjoying the learning process.

Deciding that you should also take this opportunity to learn, you start to trace your hands up her legs, your fingers skimming over the smooth skin of her thighs. There's a contrast between the firmness of her muscles and the softness of her skin. Your movements are tentative initially, but Nat's low hum of approval encourages your boldness. 

You let your hands wander higher, brushing over the curve of her hips and pausing at the waistband of her panties. For the umpteenth time tonight, you hesitate to go further and continue to shed clothing. Nat notices and leans her forehead down to press against yours, stilling the movements in her hips fully. 

"It's okay," she breathes, her lips ghosting over yours. "I want this just as much as you do."

"I just need to know if I'm doing this right. I don't… I don't know what I'm doing, Nat."

A low chuckle leaves her as her hands run up your torso to rest on your jaw. "We'll go slow. It's okay, I'll guide you." She shifts her weight slightly, pressing a kiss to your lips that feels somewhat different from the others—less urgent, more intentional.

You let yourself relax into the kiss as her body starts to move against yours once more. Her hands slide down your torso, encouraging you to move your hips against hers. Without even thinking about it, you bend one of your legs at the knee and earn a soft hiss from Nat, who shifts subconsciously to straddle your thigh. 

"Fuck yeah," she breathes out as one of her hands splays across your stomach, "shit, you feel good." 

Your fingers toy with the edge of her waistband, and you pause one last time to get confirmation. Nat nods, lips curling into an encouraging smile. Slowly, you begin to tug them down her hips, Nat shifting slightly to help, laughing softly when you fumble.

"They're just panties, Princess. First your jeans, now my underwear?" She hums and clicks her tongue teasingly, "I'm beginning to think clothes just aren't your forte. Maybe it's a good thing we're out of them, yeah?"

You groan, cheeks burning as you finally manage to toss them into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. "You're impossible," you mutter, but the humour helps ease your nerves more than you'd care to admit.

When Nat settles against you once more, you gasp softly at the new feeling you're greeted with—her wetness coming in direct contact with your skin. The feeling of slick skin is accompanied by a small, rough patch of hair between her thighs, the dual combinations causing a buzzing sensation to rake up your body.

"Doing fine," Nat reiterates, leaning down to brush her lips over yours again. "We'll take it slow, yeah? Just do what feels right. If something goes wrong…" Her lips twitch in barely concealed amusement. "We can figure it out, or whatever."

"You make it sound like we're assembling IKEA furniture," you deadpan, but the corners of your mouth twitch into a smile.

"Some assembly required," she quips back, closing the distance and kissing you again. As she does, she takes your hands and guides them to her thighs. "Start here. Touch me. I'll tell you if something feels off."

You nod hesitantly, swallowing down the nervousness in your throat. Your hands gently squeeze and massage the firm muscles of her thighs, trying to map out what details you can't make out in the dim lighting of your room. When your fingers skim over the curve of her hips—now without the barrier of cloth separating your hands from her skin—she lets out a soft hum and places her hands on your shoulders.

Your hands gain confidence as they explore the curve of her hips reverently, tracing the smooth lines of her body. Nat's breath hitches slightly at your touch, and her fingers dig into your shoulders—not to stop you, but to confirm that she is a fan of the actions you're taking.

When your fingers finally dip between her thighs, Nat inhales sharply, her body shuddering at the contact. "Yeah," she breathes out, her voice dropping lower, "just like that."

Encouraged, you press your fingers through the short tangle of hair and into her slick heat, your breath stuttering at the feeling of her wetness, exploring her slowly but with growing confidence. Nat's hips shift forward slightly, chasing your fingers. The sound she makes—a quiet, almost needy hum—sends a strange buzzing sensation up your spine that causes your fingers to slide deeper into her folds.

"Fuck," she breathes out as one of your fingers teases her slit, "you're—oh, God—doing good. Just… just like that."

Your confidence peaks when you brush a sensitive bundle of nerves with your palm, located at the apex of her thighs. When you press your hand harder against it, Nat's hips jerk subconsciously, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. 

"Shit," she laughs breathlessly, "fast learner, huh?"

You grin at her, feeling like you're finally getting the hang of things. "I had a good teacher; what can I say?"

One of Nat's hands drifts from your shoulder down to the wrist of the hand you currently have situated between her thighs, and she attempts to guide your touch with deliberate movements. "Here," she murmurs, "try this." She positions your fingers just right, showing you the pace and pressure she likes, her eyes fluttering shut as you get the hang of it.

"Yeah, babe…" She whispers, speaking more to herself than you at this point. "Fuck, that's it. That's good. Keep… yeah, keep doing that…"

You continue to follow her guidance until she decides you've gotten the hang of it and moves her hand back up your arm. "Mm," you watch her head loll back, exposing the pale expanse of her throat, and she removes her other arm from your shoulder to—

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ—

Nat runs her hand up her torso, starting on the flat of her stomach before trailing up between her breasts and over her sternum. When she reaches her neck, her slender fingers wrap around her throat gently, and she makes a low humming sound as her hips press into your hand.

Your hand stutters for a moment—only because your brain stutters as you watch her touch herself, which might be your new favourite sight—but you quickly resume your movements, desperate to continue to see her in this heavenly light. 

In your overwhelming need to see her explore her own skin while seated on your lap, you press your fingers in a little too hard, pushing past her entrance and into the damp heat that awaits you. Nat initially seems to approve of this action, letting out a hum that sounds like the most beautiful music you've ever heard.

Encouraged by this, you press your index finger into her deeper… until your uncut nails accidentally scratch against her inner walls.

With no warning, Nat immediately hisses and snaps her hand down to grab your wrist, tugging it back slightly. "Fuck, Princess. Warn a girl before you stick something sharp inside of her, yeah?" The words are intended to be teasing, a playful banter to ease your nerves… but they do the exact opposite.

Too desperate and too inexperienced, it seems.

Your eyes widen in equal parts shock and embarrassment, promptly backpedalling and losing all of that confidence you've just gained. "Sh—fuck, Nat. I'm… fuck. I'm so fucking sorry. I don't… I didn't…"

"Woah, woah—" Nat shakes her head immediately, releasing your wrist in favour of taking your face between both of her hands, warm skin and rough bandage against cheeks burning in shame. "Babe, no. It's okay, alright? It's just… a learning curve or whatever. You aren't gonna be a fucking… Sex God your first time, yeah? It's okay, seriously, dude. Relax. I'm fine."

Even with her reassurance, you hesitate again, not wanting to hurt her. To remedy this, Nat leans down to kiss you softly before pulling back slightly to speak. "Let's… try something else then. Change of pace."

When she climbs off your lap, you have to fight the urge to whimper at the loss of her warmth against your skin. 

But then she's lying down on your bed, looking like the picture of lust and sin. 

"Natalie…?" You find yourself asking hesitantly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at her. "What's… what's going on? Why are you… I thought we…"

She rolls her eyes and snorts, "What we are doing is still having sex, yeah? We're just gonna… try switching gears. Come here."

Then, she's spreading her legs for you. And, yeah. You really can't see her in this lighting, but you don't need to. Just the vague image of her (and the mental ones your brain has started providing you with) is more than enough, seeing be damned.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry, and your brain feels fuzzy as you sit yourself between her parted legs. "Fuck, Nat…" Your touch is slightly more hesitant than it was earlier—mainly because you're worried about hurting her again—but you place your hands on her ankles and slowly but deliberately run them up her long, lithe legs. 

"Mm, yeah, that's the plan." Nat grins at you, her voice carrying a teasing lilt as her eyes follow your movements as you change your position to lay prone. 

From your new angle, you're looking up at Nat once more, but it feels ten times as intimate as it did compared to when she was seated on your lap. From here, you get a front-row seat to a meal like none you've ever encountered: something wet, warm, and deliciously wanton.

She reaches down and pushes some hair out of your face as you wrap your arms around her thighs, squeezing the firm muscles as your breath brushes across her center. 

"Don't jump right into it, yeah? Explore, or whatever." Her free hand waves dismissively as if attempting to ease your worries. "Something about the journey, and not the destination."

You squirm slightly but give her a soft nod in acknowledgement. "Right, right… don't just… dive into it."

Nat hums in acknowledgment of your statement, parting her legs a little further on your behalf. "'xactly, Princess. You're getting it."

Your mouth feels overwhelmingly dry, and in an effort to shake the nerves from your system again, you decide to begin pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of her right thigh. You start near the crook of her knee and gradually work your way up her leg and closer to the warm heat that rests at the apex. 

When you reach the point where her leg transitions to her pelvis, you quickly switch to her other thigh and repeat the same ministrations you gave her right thigh. For the record, Nat seems to be equally frustrated and increasingly aroused at how you've begun to take your time with her. But, when her hand tugs on your hair subconsciously, you can't help the small, giddy laugh that spills from your mouth.

"You were the one that told me I shouldn't be jumping right into things, Natalie." 

Although you can't make out the movement of her eyes in the dark of your room, you swear you can hear her rolling them through the irked exhale she lets out at the teasing comment. "Jesus, when did you become such a tease?"

You grin at that, nipping at her thigh like she did your lip when the two of you were kissing earlier. "When I was told to be one, princess."

Nat tugs on your hair again at the bite and subsequent comment, "Don't call me 'princess,' that's your title."

"Oh, my bad, Your Grace."

The scoff that falls from her is less harsh than it is humourous, and she gives your hair a soothing pet to ease the assumed sting from the tug. "You are forgiven, my liege," she says with a terrible English accent that would cause even a tenured dialect coach to have a heart attack. 

A thought vaguely occurs to you as your breath ghosts over her again; you know she told you not to leave marks, but you can't help the part of you that wants to suck a dark mark into her thighs.

Nat seemingly catches the thought in the way you hesitate, and she hums softly. "You can leave one. You know how to leave a hickey, yeah?"

You roll your eyes at the comment, huffing softly. "Yes, Natalie. I'm not that inexperienced. I know how to leave a hickey. It has to do with the blood vessels under the skin bursting when—"

"Mmm," she cuts you off, "didn't ask for the science behind it, babe. Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing."

Before you can talk yourself out of doing it, you press your lips to the pale skin of her left thigh and take it into your mouth, lathing over it with your tongue and earning an approving moan from Nat at the action. 

When you break the suction, you get slightly upset that you can't immediately see if the mark will take; you suppose that will have to be something you revisit come the morning. 

Well, provided she actually stays the night. 

But… that's a thought for future you to worry about. Right now? Well, right now, you have Natalie Scatorccio lying on your bed with your head between her thighs. You can worry about the logistics later.

You pull back slightly to catch your breath, your lips brushing her skin as you speak. "How's that for a start?"

Nat chuckles, though the sound is breathless and ragged, something which you would like to think is a testament to how much you're affecting her. "Mm, yeah, not bad. Got some ways to go yet, but… I think with practice… we could get there." Her hand stays tangled in your hair, not pulling, just resting there, grounding herself—or maybe grounding you. It's hard to tell, and honestly, it doesn't matter.

What does matter is the way she arches slightly beneath your touch when your mouth trails closer to her center. Her breath catches, and you feel her thighs tense beneath your palms. That's all the encouragement you need.

"You say 'we could get there' like you fully intend on doing this again…" You muse as your breath ghosts over her center, wetness visible even in the penumbra. 

Following her earlier advice, you take your time, pressing gentle, deliberate kisses against the tender skin before finally letting your tongue dart out to explore. The taste of her slick is warm, slightly salty, and wholly intoxicating. You quickly decide this is something you could never get tired of, no matter how long you live.

Natalie's reaction is immediate and gratifying—a sharp intake of breath, her hips bucking slightly against your mouth as her fingers tighten in your hair fractionally. "Fuck, babe," she murmurs, her voice strained and dripping with lust. "That's… yeah, that's it. Just like that." 

Spurred on by her praise, your hands tighten around her thighs, and you tug her closer to your waiting mouth as you close your eyes and delve deeply into her glistening arousal. Sure, you aren't quite sure what you're doing, but… you took Anatomy and Physiology last semester. So you… kinda understand the basics. 

You're nothing if not eager to make up for your previous mistakes, which shows in how you bury your nose into the neatly trimmed hair on her pelvis. The movements start slow, almost exploratory, careful not to overwhelm either of you at the moment. You let your tongue flick lightly against her folds, testing her reactions and taking mental notes of the little sounds she makes. Each gasp, quiet moan, or whispered "yeah, right there" is a roadmap guiding you, and you find yourself following it with renewed eagerness.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more, but this time, it's less teasing and more… like she's trying to urge you to continue what you're doing. Her thighs tremble slightly against your hold, and you feel a surge of pride at the realization that you're the one making her feel like this.

You hum softly against her, the vibration earning a sharp intake of breath and a broken curse from Natalie. The sound is enough to have you digging your nails into her thighs, your own excitement building despite the fact you're the one pleasuring her, and not the other way around. So, you repeat the action to draw the sound again. And again. And again.

As you get more comfortable, your movements become bolder, and your grip grows firmer. You flatten your tongue against her and drag it upward, savouring the way she shudders beneath you. Your lips close around a tiny nub at the top, sucking on it gently and feeling her body jolt in response.

"Oh, fuck—" Nat's voice cracks slightly, and her hips jerk up, thighs instinctively closing in around your head for a moment before she forces herself to relax. "Shit, sorry. Didn't mean to—"

You shake your head immediately at her apologies, the motion causing you to brush against her in a way that has her letting out a delicious groan. "I like it," you murmur between movements, squeezing her thighs once in a show of approval. "Means I'm doing something right." A beat, "...right?"

Your voice comes out slightly unsure, although you try to disguise it with a sarcastic lilt. Nat, whether she picks up on this or not, doesn't comment on your unsure tone.

"Yeah, babe," she breathes out, her voice shaky. "Doing good, yeah? Try not to let it go to your head, though."

You laugh softly, the sound muffled against her skin, and press on, letting yourself get lost in her. Her taste, her scent, the way her fingers tangle in your hair… it's an all-consuming feeling. Those nerves you were feeling earlier? Gone. Replaced by a confidence that builds with every encouragement whispered from her lips.

At some point, your lips move from her clit to her entrance, and you run a stripe up it with your tongue. You debate using your fingers for a moment but decide against it once you remember what happened when you tried that initially. So, instead, you use your tongue to feel the inside of her.

You nuzzle her outer lips apart with your mouth and nose—which brushes against her clit—and press your tongue inside her, exploring her canal, which feels… strangely like the roof of your mouth. Your tongue isn't very long, so you don't stay for long, but you make a mental note to return to this at a later date. Ideally, when you've cut your nails.

When your lips move back up to her clit, your tongue flicks at it, and you experiment in strokes—a flat tongue, pointing and swirling it, attaching your lips to it, and catalogue every sound or reaction she makes in your mind for… future purposes. You decide the reactions that you like the best come from when you're effectively slurping on it. The messier, the better.

So, you get messy. Natalie's thighs wrap around your head, her ankles locking behind it as she tugs on your hair, a loud groan falling from her lips when you tug her even closer to you—if that was even possible—and get messy.

Your saliva runs down her already slick genitals, mingling with her juices as they coat your lower face and give you a headrush like nothing ever has before. This feels better than the first time you got drunk on your friend Alex's mom's wine for their sixteenth birthday. Hell, this feels better than the little buzz you got from smoking a joint with Nat at the skatepark. This is a feeling you want to experience as many times as possible in your life, you've decided. 

Nat's breathing begins to quicken, and you can feel the way her thigh muscles tense around your head, the way the grip on your hair grows more insistent, and… oh, shit, she's getting close. Your movements double down, your grip on her thighs nearing the point of bruising, and you do whatever you can to bring her closer to that blissful release.

"Babe—fuck, I'm gonna—" Natalie gasps, voice breaking completely as her hips back against you and her head trashes against your pillows. Her thighs effectively cut off all sound at this point, but you don't care about the lack of hearing in the slightest—the movements she's making are more than enough to tell you what you need to know. So, your ministrations don't let up—not until she's crying out and a sudden rush of wetness begins to coat your already slick face.

When her body relaxes from the orgasm that raked her, so does the grip on your head and hair. A soft murmur leaves her lips, something that sounds suspiciously like your name. You press a few kisses to her now-overly sensitive skin before pulling back to look at her.

Natalie is sprawled out on your bed, her chest heaving and a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips when her eyes open to meet yours. Her hair is a mess, her face is just as fucked up as it was when you were patching her wounds up in her truck, and she's never looked more sinful.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of yourself again as the adrenaline starts to fade. "Was… that… okay?" you ask quietly, voice tentative as you sit back on your haunches. 

She lifts her head to look at you, propping herself up on her elbows. "Babe," her smirk softens into a gentle smile. "That was better than okay. You sure you haven't done this before?"

You shake your head, blushing furiously. "Uhh… no? It was, uh, my first time…"

Nat's smirk reappears, and she moves to sit up and pulls you back toward her, "mm, well, you could have fooled me. You're a natural."

Her lips find yours in a kiss that's softer than you expected, given how utterly debauched she looks, and it leaves you feeling dazed and fuzzy in the best way possible. Maybe, you think as her arms wrap around you, this leaning curve isn't so bad.

At some point during this kiss, Nat starts encouraging you to lay where she was, and your positions are flipped. She's the one seated between your thighs now. The change in position leaves you a little overwhelmed, and you find yourself breaking the kiss out of nervousness. 

"Nat, uh, you, uh, don't have to… 'return the favour,' or whatever. I don't—"

She laughs. It's hardly cruel, but it's obvious she finds your nerves endearing. "Princess—babe—I wouldn't do something I didn't want to. Although my face is a little fucked up," she starts, using the word 'little' very loosely, "I can still use it. And I fully intend to 'return the favour, or whatever.'"

Her gaze softens slightly when she still sees your hesitation, and she gently brushes a strand of hair that got stuck to your forehead behind your ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you whisper, voice barely audible. So, you clear your throat and try again. "Yeah, uh, I'm good. Just… nervous."

"That's okay." Her hands gently massage your thighs, "I'll take care of you, yeah? Stop me if it gets too much. I won't be, like, offended, or whatever." She waves a dismissive hand before pressing kisses to your lower stomach.

Her words and actions settle over you, and you find yourself nodding despite the nervous fluttering in your gut. You trust her—for better or worse—and that's enough to keep you from spiralling for now.

Nat, far more sure in her actions than you were, hooks her fingers in the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your legs and pressing kisses along the skin as she goes. Her touch is slow and careful, almost reverent, and it genuinely makes you feel safe. It's a weird feeling, sure, to feel safe around Natalie Scatorccio, of all people, but you wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.

Her breath ghosts over you, and you can't help the soft gasp that escapes as she starts pressing kisses up your inner thighs, then immediately running her tongue flat against your center. 

"Natalie—" you gasp, hands finding purchase in her hair. She hums in response, the sound vibrating against you and making you arch into her touch. When your thighs move to close in around her head, she growls—a sensation that feels as delicious as the hum did—and holds them to the bed.

She doesn't stop until you're trembling, breathing harshly, and your voice becomes a broken mix of gasps and whimpers. When you finally come undone, it's with her name on your lips, your body going taut before collapsing against the mattress. By far, it's a significantly better orgasm than anyone you've ever had on your own. Either you haven't been doing something right, Natalie just knows what she's doing, or it's just better with a partner. Whatever the reason, you feel good.

Nat presses a few soft kisses to your thighs as you come down from that high, her touch gentle and soothing. She climbs back up beside you, her grin equally smug and affectionate as she brushes your hair away from your face.

"So? You good, Princess?" she asks, her voice soft but teasing. 

You nod, though your words come out a little garbled from the intensity of it. "Good. Yeah. Good. Just… uh… yeah. Good."

She laughs gently, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Good."

After a moment of stillness, she pushes herself off the bed, scanning the room before grabbing a random shirt off the floor. "Hope you didn't plan on wearing this shirt anytime soon." She uses it to gently clean you up, murmuring some soft reassurances as you try to squirm away from the overstimulation. Once you're taken care of (and, surprisingly, with much more care than you thought was possible from Natalie Scatorccio), she tosses the shirt aside and grabs a cup from your nightstand with some water in it, offering it to you.

"Drink," she says simply, clearly unwilling to take no for an answer. Once you drink, she finishes the water, murmuring something about 'stale-ass nightstand water,' then settles back beside you.

Once she settles down, her head finds its way to your chest like it's been there a million times before, and she sighs softly as her arm drapes over your waist. Her head tucks itself under your chin, and she kisses your neck softly before yanking the duvet up around both of you. 

This, you decide, is something you could get used to.

a/n: remember when i said it's all downhill from here? <3 also I would apologize for the foreplay being as long as it was but I'm really not sorry. teehee (also lowkey i wrote half of this late at night... if u see spelling errors... pls tell me ajhgbauyhdghbuyag)

tag: @we1rdth0ughts @theprismyyy

[maryymaruu]

I'm happy to be able to finally, officially, introduce my first Iterator oc, Three Signals! :"D

As one may tell, I can't help myself but to write novels on top and around my ocs, so apologies for the large amount of text.

Their lore is almost completed and I'd advise to referr to posts from here onward, if anyone is interested :0c

The story is grounded on a lot of my personal lore interpretation and headcanons, but those I will establish in a separate post some time! For now, it's still not 100% figured out, so there will be plotholes and uncertainty ^^);;

Three Signals belongs to a group far away from the in-game location. Specifically, a group pretty close to, if not outright including, Sliver Of Straw. That group is not particularly well integrated, and most members prefer to keep it to themselves.

After first generation was built, an issue arose; due to a large distance in the South between them and another group, the communications were weak, the signals were getting lost over particularly tall mountains. To fix that, Three Signals was strategically placed to bridge the distance, equipped with advanced for the time satellite plate, additional cell towers etc, essentially becoming a cell tower of the group.

A very vocal Iterator who quickly proved their creativity and love for their people and arts, became a perfect breeding ground for artists to find shelter from a rather conservative group climate. Their citizens were eager to involve TS into everything they did, only further strengthening their bond. They enjoyed their cyclical life together so much so, that the idea of Ascension slowly grew to be something undesirable. That raised controversy and distaint in the group against TS and their city of "heretics".

At some point, the tension grew enough to cause action to be taken. Other cities demanded arrest of TS's leaders and most prominent figures. TS and their city resisted, resulting in overly drastic measures; the city was pressured into compliance by force. Cutting off delivery of supplies and eventually attacking TS themselves with a malware attack, to shake the people out of the perceived heresy. A traumatic event for everyone involved. TS struggled to freely speak ever since.

Time passed, and the day of Mass Ascension came. Many of TS's citizens were not thrilled, many were fearful, many reluctant, many cried and reached out to their beloved Iterator for comfort. TS did their very best to comfort them, using what their city loved most; song. They sang, they sang all together, the city slowly rumbling with thousand voices into a solemn roar, then grew quieter and quieter again, until the very last voice left to be heard was Three Signals alone. And then silence ever since.

More time passed. Sliver Of Straw sends out the Triple Affirmative broadcast-

But TS, being equipped specifically to pick up weak signals, has heard something else coming from her; distressed cries of pain, and then the Triple Affirmative. Essentially convincing TS that it was nothing but an erroneous cry of a dying Iterator.

Horrified by what they witnessed, TS was moved to do whatever they can to try and comfort their fellow Iterators, to try and avoid something like that happening again. And what other way could TS do it, other than broadcast comforting tunes? A sign that they're not alone, and something to hopefully offer an alternative to spiraling into madness.

Their broadcast is wide ranged, but not enforced, and they're not even sure if anyone is listening or not- if its even effective or not. But at the very least, they can say they tried something.

(More to come)

[puppetwoman17]

I wonder what the batfam's reactions would be if the joker escapes wherever they sent him to, finds Tim on patrol and was like "Long time no see JJ," and then going on about how he should come home with him back to arkham and he'll help him "recover" and are trying to get to Tim's location as fast as they can while listening in on comms?

This was actually a scenario I thought of the day I found out about JJ. I feel like after what happened, Tim would do the opposite of what Jason would and has done. Instead of going to find the Joker, he would stay as far away from him or even his goons as possible. It would be like the third Robin and the Joker had no history, nothing to tie them together(which probably made Jason angry at some point).

So when he breaks out of Arkham(AGAIN, jesus), Tim, Babs, and Bruce don’t waste a minute before bringing up that Tim has another case he has to work on that is of the “upmost importance”. It’s actually just a 12 year old homicide cold case that he solved a month ago but no one has to know that. Jim knows to sweep that under the rug when RR comes by with the same exact evidence he came with a month ago.

But Lady Luck has never been on Tim’s side. The rest of the bats quickly lose track of the Joker. Babs manages to find him, but by that point, it’s too late.

Joker finds him. And he recognizes him. Underneath the new name, costume, and styled hair, Joker finds his “son”.

As you can imagine, he’s over the moon. But he’s also just as angry.

“Junior! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t send out an email. What’s a pop got to do to get their son to notice them?”

“I’m not your son.”

“Not with that hair you’re not. Your skin’s not how I left it at all! And what happened to that beautiful smile of yours? Did the bat ruin that too?”

Tim doesn’t take jabs about his smile well. This is why. And it gets under his skin that even after using so much foundation and concealer, the Joker can still see the remnants of smile lines along his cheeks.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Junior. You know papa doesn’t like being ignored.“

“You’re not my dad.”

“Ha! Who is then? Certainly not the old bat. Anyhow, this isn’t about him. It’s been so long, kiddo. Why don’t we stop by the old warehouse and have a chat. Maybe even pick up Mama while we’re at it.”

“Harley would rather die than go with you, and I’m not following you anywhere. Batman already has your location.”

That brushes the smile off the freak’s face. The expression he has on now is sickly reminiscent of how he was when he, Tim, and Harley played family years ago. It’s not a look he gives to other people. No one else has seen it, so they might think Tim a liar. But he can’t deny the parental disappointment in the man’s eyes.

“I know they don’t know.”

Now that. That really gets to him.

“None of your business.”

“It it, but you’re welcome to deny it. I believe it’s just the old bat, the beat up cop, and Ms. Gordon, correct? Not even the first Robin! Ha! I wonder what the second bird would think. Not to mention the girls! Oh! And we can’t forget about little old Signal.”

Tim doesn’t need him to tell him. He’s gone over the scenario so many times it drives him mad. What each of them would say. What he could do to make them think differently. What he would have to do if they found out. Where he could run to. It never gets easier.

Joker is trying to scare him. That’s the only conclusion he definitively has. And aside from his general psychotic tendencies, he genuinely believes he and Tim are family.

By the time Batman arrives with the GCPD, the Joker is tied and ready for extraction. But the villain’s smile is no less fear-inducing.

“You know I’m right, my boy,” he says as he’s take into the back of a truck.

“They’ll never look at you the same way again.”

It’s only when everything is over that Tim takes the time to look over his gear that he finds his mistake. One that the Joker knew about. One that he exploited.

When he shut off the comms, he didn’t shut them off. In his delirium over his past, instead of closing them off, he muted them. While he couldn’t hear any of their chatter, they definitely heard his. And he didn’t send Babs his acceptance to shut his comms off, something she couldn’t do without express permission.

So when he unmuted the comms, you can only imagine what he heard.

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓼ix.

bucky barnes and mixed signals.

it starts with little things - bucky not answering your texts right away, the curt responses when he does, and how he seems distracted whenever you’re together, like his mind is elsewhere. at first, you try to brush it off; he’s a busy guy, after all. but as days turn into weeks, it gets harder to ignore the nagging feeling that something’s changed.

you start to pull back, giving him space, thinking maybe that’s what he needs. your texts become less frequent, your smiles a little more forced. you don’t want to crowd him if he doesn’t want you around. you start avoiding his gaze, afraid of what you might see in those blue eyes - disinterest, or worse, regret.

the silence stretches between you, a gulf growing wider with each passing day. it feels like your heart is constantly in your throat, an ache settling in your chest as you wonder if he’s slipping away.

bucky’s the one to finally notice. he’s been caught up with missions, the weight of responsibility pulling him in a dozen different directions, but the sudden distance you’re keeping isn’t something he can ignore. it’s like you’re slipping through his fingers, and he doesn’t know why.

one night, he finds you sitting alone on the couch, staring blankly at the tv. there’s a heaviness to the air, and he can’t stand it any longer. “doll,” he says softly, his voice rough around the edges. “what’s goin’ on? you’ve been… different.”

you don’t look up, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “nothing’s going on,” you murmur, but your voice betrays you, trembling with the effort to keep it together.

“don’t do that,” he says, stepping closer, his brows drawing together in concern. “don’t shut me out.”

there’s a moment of silence before you finally look up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “that’s rich, coming from you,” you say, a small, humorless laugh escaping your lips. “you’ve been shutting me out for weeks, bucky. barely talking to me, acting like i’m not even there half the time…”

his frown deepens, a flash of confusion crossing his features. “i’ve just been busy - there’s been a lot goin’ on with the team and - ”

“i get that,” you interrupt, your voice cracking. “but you don’t even seem to want to be around me anymore.” your gaze drops to your hands, your shoulders sagging as if a weight’s pressing down on you. “i thought… maybe you were losing interest.”

bucky’s heart lurches at the raw pain in your voice, the guilt hitting him like a freight train. he crosses the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of you so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “no,” he says firmly, his hands reaching out to cradle your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “no, doll, that’s not it at all.”

you shake your head, tears spilling over despite your best efforts. “then what is it, bucky? because it felt like you didn’t want me around. like… like i was a burden.”

his breath catches in his throat, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice a desperate whisper. “you could never be a burden. not to me, sweetheart.” his arms wrap around you, pulling you close as if trying to convey what he hasn’t been able to say. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. “i didn’t realize… i’ve just been so caught up with everything, i didn’t see how it was affecting you. i never meant to make you feel like that.”

you sink into his embrace, the familiar warmth and steadiness of him calming the ache in your chest. “it just… hurt,” you admit quietly. “i didn’t know if you still wanted this. wanted… us.”

bucky pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands as he meets your gaze with a fierce intensity. “of course i want us,” he says, the words rough with emotion. “you’re the best damn thing in my life, doll. i’m sorry i made you feel any different.”

his thumb brushes away a tear trailing down your cheek, and you close your eyes, leaning into the touch, the relief washing over you like a wave. when you open them again, his expression is soft, but there’s something else there too - an unspoken promise that he’s not going to let this happen again.

he shifts, lifting you effortlessly into his lap as he settles back against the couch, his arms holding you securely against his chest. you curl into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck, and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“i’m right here,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “and i’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? we’re in this together.”

you nod, wrapping your arms around his middle, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear soothing the last remnants of your doubt. “okay,” you murmur, your voice small but certain.

he holds you tighter, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as you relax into him completely. “you don’t ever have to worry ‘bout me losin’ interest,” he adds quietly. “not in a million years.”

you tilt your head up to look at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the tears that still cling to your lashes. “promise?”

“promise,” he says, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you, slow and tender, like he’s sealing that vow between you. when he pulls away, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, and there’s a quiet, comforting sense of relief that settles between you both, as if the distance that had grown had never existed at all.

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reply to be added to the taglist!

[thezombieprostitute]

Dragonfly - Part 5

Summary: August strikes at the worst time.

Warnings: Pregnancy (going into labor), Violence. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is female and smaller than Steve. No other physical descriptors used.

Part 4 -- Part 6

Series Masterlist

You were dreaming you were having your period. Your lower back was hurting, all the way through your pelvis. You were curled up in a ball, whimpering in pain.

Thankfully Steve gently but urgently wakes you up.

"You sounded like you were having a nightmare," he explains.

"The pain..." you try to explain before gripping his hand tight as the cramps continue.

Steve is wide awake now. Without trying to escape from your grasp he grabs for his phone. "Okay, timing the contractions starts now."

"We don't know it's contractions," you try to argue as the pain recedes.

"Turning on the light," he warns. You close your eyes just in time to avoid the worst of the sudden brightness. "And even if it's not contractions, it'll be good to track whenever you're hurting. Just in case."

Steve sits up and, moving his phone so you can't see, texts Bucky, Sam and Curtis: code blue. That's the signal to get things started. Bucky is upping security, making sure all the best people are awake and on alert. Sam is calling up the hospital to make sure your doctor, and the nicest room in the ward, is ready and waiting for you. Curtis and his people are getting last second information on potential activities by August, as well as maybe getting Jake to make sure Steve's car gets all green lights.

Then again, considering it's not even 4 AM, there might be some delay on their part. Not that he can blame them. At least this stage of labor can take a long time.

"Wanna try walking?" Steve offers, getting out of bed and walking over to your side.

"That sounds like a good idea."

Steve helps you out of bed. No matter how long the two of you are together, you'll never get used to how strong he is. Considering how you lean into him, rely on him to help you steady yourself, you'll also never stop being grateful for his strength.

He gently rubs your back as you get your bearings and makes a mental note of where the hospital bag is. He'd downplayed the need for it, given his resources, but it was important to you. You wanted to be prepared for anything and everything, so he acquiesced. He even put in a few surprises for you, in case you needed them.

Steve's phone is suddenly a flurry of activity but he doesn't pay it any mind, figuring it's just confirmation his people got the code and the updated information that comes with it. Right now his focus is you and the baby he knows is coming.

"How about a walk around the courtyard?" he offers. "Might be nice to see how the flowers look in---"

He's cut off by a loud blast that shakes the ground. You scream in panic. Steve grabs you and pushes you to the ground against a wall before using his larger frame to cover you.

Before the shaking comes to a full stop, Steve's pulled you up to your feet. He half drags you towards the panic room he built soon after you started dating, only stopping to pick up your hospital bag. He's not sure what's going on or how long this is going to take, but he can't think until he knows you're going to be okay.

"What...what's going on?" you squeal. "What the hell was that?"

Steve presses the code for the panic room and sets you on the couch, leaving your hospital bag on the floor.

He kneels in front of you. "I don't know, but I'll take care of it. You stay here, please. I need you and Jack safe."

"What about you?"

Steve picks up on the faint sound of gunfire and prays you don't hear it. "I promise to not do anything stupid. Need you safe so I can think, okay?"

You nod and kiss him before he runs out, closing the panic room door, leaving you alone and crying in fear.

As soon as the door closes, Steve is in tactical mode. He runs and gets his phone for the intel that no doubt has already come in. There's another explosion, further away this time. His mind flashes to how scared you are and he growls, ready to tear apart whoever is behind this.

Sure enough, his phone is filled with intel. Security had spotted something strange on the south wall of the courtyard shortly before it exploded. Walker hadn't been spotted at any of his usual spots all night. Neither had Franco the Elder. Bucky was on the scene of the explosion, no sign of the culprits and the security cameras had been taken out.

Steve strides purposefully to his office where he grabs his pistol. He's completely unbothered by the fact that he's only wearing sweatpants. His home is under attack. His wife and child are in danger. Their safety is the only thing that matters.

He makes a call to Bucky telling him to focus on the house, especially areas furthest from the blast. Walker isn't dumb. He's not going to use the entryway he just bombed while all attention is on it.

If Bucky notices the coldness in Steve's voice he doesn't say anything about it.

"Also, tell Fowler to hold back," Steve orders. "Franco hasn't been seen. I don't doubt he'd take the opportunity to hurt Nick's Lady."

"Done," Bucky replies. "We've got men sweeping the grounds. I'm inside the house with God and Nat."

"Good. I'm joining you. We catch him, he gets taken to the Basement Studio."

Inside the panic room, you're able to watch the surveillance cameras. Or you could if the tears weren't blurring your vision. You want to be calm, cool, collected like you know others are in these situations but you can't. And not just because of your damn pregnancy hormones.

Thinking about them brings on another round of cramps. Was Steve right? Are these actually contractions? Now?!

You look down at your belly, "you have some really weird timing, Jack." You sigh and rub your stomach. "On the one hand, I suppose waking me and your dad up when you did kept us from being woken up by the explosion. But also, there's someone...someone trying to kill us," you sob. "We're not yet in active labor and early labor can take days, right? I'm not asking for you to take that long, but please, please, please don't do anything for the next few hours?"

As if in answer, you feel a wetness between your legs.

"And there's the cervix opening up," you sigh, putting your face in your hands. "I'm guessing I slept through a lot of that early labor."

You force yourself to stand up. Walking, even if it's just pacing, can help. Plus, you don't want to keep sitting in the mess. Not that you'll have much choice. You'll eventually have to sit back down. At least you can clean up any that got on the couch. Looking around for cleaning supplies, you spot the hospital bag Steve had managed to grab and let out a little sigh of relief. There's a change of clothing in there as well as some other comforts that could really help right now.

When you pull out the sweatpants something else in the bag catches your eye. Steve only wanted the essentials packed in here, saying he could get everything else brought to you in the hospital. But, underneath the sweats, you see his notebook. The one he uses for drawing. He's even got some of his best pencils packed with it. You sniffle as you realize, he was going to draw Jack, you and Jack, capturing those moments in a way that photos never could.

The tears return but you're not as scared. You're angry, determined. You know Steve won't let any harm come to you and Jack. You know August won't come anywhere near you.

Your husband, Jack's father, will keep you both safe.

Part 4 -- Part 6

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jamneuromain;

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @leryg0; @peaches1958; @rayofdawnworld ; @rebekahdawkins;

@ronearoundblindly; @talesofadragon; @texmexdarling; @thiquefunlover63

[httpspedri26]

Hi can you do one with Jude with your losing me by Taylor swift like the one you did with pedri?

Your losing me- JB

Jude x reader

Angst

Send requests!

“I don’t understand what’s your problem. Y/N, it was just a party,” Jude said, rolling his eyes and taking off his jacket. “Jude, I don’t care about the party. I care that you didn’t tell me where you were going. You had me worried all night, not sleeping, waiting for you to come home,” Y/N sighed. “You don’t even answer my messages anymore, Jude!”

Jude's tone grew more frustrated. "Can't you see I need some space?" he snapped. He picked up his jacket again and turned around to leave the room.

“Jude, where are you going?” Y/n rubbed her eyes and sighed as she got out of bed.

“I’m leaving y/n I’m going to a friends house” he said as he slammed the door.

She for the first time in months y/n didn’t feel her heart break anymore. Because she was so used to him leaving the house now.

And he was losing her.

As Y/N looked around the room, she remembered why she and Jude had chosen this house - because of this exact room. They loved it cause of the light.

But now she sits in the dark and wonders if it’s time. Does she throw out everything they built of keep it?

She’s getting tired even for the little things now.

The next morning, Y/N woke up with her eyes puffy and red. She reached out, hoping to find Jude beside her, but all she felt was the cold emptiness of the bed. As she sat up, a heavy sigh escaped her lips.

She quickly got up and went through her morning routine. As she finished her breakfast, the sound of the front door opening caught her attention. "Hey," Jude greeted, making his way into the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Hey, where were you?" Y/n asked, her gaze fixed on her plate.

"Y/n I don't really want to do this right now," Jude sighed, shutting the fridge door. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"I just asked a simple question, Jude."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk. What part of that don't you understand?"

Taking a deep breath, she set down her fork and stood up, walking over to him. “Jude, we can’t keep avoiding this. Whatever’s going on, we need to talk about it.”

Jude’s shoulders tensed, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I just need some space, Y/n. Can’t you respect that?”

"Jude, I am! I've been giving you space for months. I'm tired, Jude, months!" Y/n snapped, as she glared at him.

"Jude, you're losing me. It feels like you've stopped trying in this relationship. I'm tired of being the only one putting in any effort here," Y/n admitted, her heart heavy. The once-quickened pulse she used to feel around Jude had now turned into a dull ache of frustration and disappointment.

"I try, Y/n. Everything I do is try," Jude whispered, tears streaking down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, well, you don't show it, Jude. You go out to meet your friends and vanish for hours without a single text. Last time, you didn't even come back home. Do you think I slept that night, Jude? I was worried sick, thinking something had happened to you," Y/n's voice cracked, she was trying to not cry she didn’t want Jude to see her cry, not for him.

“Jude I’ve been sending you signals every single day that I was falling out of love with you, and you just sent them away”

Did she really fall out of love? That was the only thing running through Jude’s mind, that was all he could think about.

“I gave you everything I could Jude, I moved to Spain with you, I left my family behind, I gave you more than I thought I could ever give someone” Jude finally found the courage to look at her in the eyes, Big mistake.

he saw his favorite honey colored eyes bloodshot, he could see the sadness in them, and that tore him apart.

“Don’t ignore me Bellingham”.

“I think it’s best if you just go back to England y/n/n”

And that’s what she did.

[myung-jaes]

USED TO THIS ― lee anton

005. oh my god, the voices

the minute you heard the two resounding knocks on your door, followed by three faster-paced knocks, you rushed to open it, feet dragging to the source of the sound— anton’s personalized knocks.

you placed your hand on the cool metal of the handle, opening the wooden door, sighing as your eyes caught sight of the boy towering in front of you, his brown hair sticking in all directions.

"anton, i told you just to text me, i can walk myself to your car," you mumbled.

however, anton completely ignored you, moving his hand to push your face, your feet staggering as your frame was shoved away from the doorway. "shut up, i didn't walk up here for you."

"my baby," he cooed, sitting on the floor, gently petting kiki, as she ran to anton, taking in his familiar scent.

"my cat is not your baby," you grumbled, closing the door as you begrudgingly joined the two. 

"yes, she is, we basically have shared custody over her," anton laughed, watching as kiki nuzzled her head all over your hand.

"no we do not," you emphasized. "you're just saying that because every time you come over, you choose to terrorize my cat."

"i think terrorize is the wrong word,” anton stood up, glancing down at you. “why, are you jealous?”

you scrunched your nose in disgust at the boy, sticking your tongue out at him which prompted him to take a step closer to you.

“aw, don’t be jealous, yn,” he fake cooed, hands reaching out in front of him as you side-stepped to avoid him. “dude, where are you going? this feels like rejection.”

“no thanks!” you yelled, rushing out the front door before he could reach you, anton only stopping for a brief moment before falling in step behind you, his keys in hand.

the minute you sat in the passenger seat of anton's car, the boy driving off once you were completely seated, you were hit with a sense of deja vu. the setting sun darkening the sky, beaming lights from oncoming traffic, and the soft hum of anton's playlist in the background— the playlist he made for you for your 20th birthday, his yearly tradition.

everything took you back to your time in new jersey, the end-of-the-day drives you and anton would have, his mom driving after a day of anton's swim meets, the same meets that you told him you were against going to due to the pungent smell of chlorine, but you could never bring yourself to miss a single one, being there for every single one of anton's achievements.

“yn.”

you snapped out of your flashback, turning to anton, his eyes meeting yours briefly before directing his gaze back to the road in front of him.

you hummed, signaling for him to speak what was on his mind. anton paused, gathering his thoughts, afraid he would shatter the comfortable silence you had into pieces.

"what was ricky talking about? you know, when he said you thought i was mad at you?" anton spoke gently, his voice above a whisper almost as if he didn't want you to hear, terrified that if you did, you would give him the answer he would never want to hear uttered from your lips.

you winced, screwing your eyes shut, silently cursing ricky in your head. “anton,” you dragged out, wanting to get away from the pressing conversation.

“yn,” anton mocked your tone, his lips quivered to a faint smile. “no, seriously why did you think i was mad at you?”

“it’s nothing, it’s stupid really,” you shrugged, choosing to turn your head to glance out at the cars moving beside you, hoping if you ignore the situation it’ll just disappear.

“yn,” anton said your name again, though this time it sounded different. you felt the car slow to a stop as you approached a red light. “this is going to sound so cliche, but you know you can talk to me, you know me. it’s not like i’ll judge you.”

at this you turned back to face anton, only to catch him already staring at you, his eyes twinkling as they darted across your face, trying to read your mind. 

you felt yourself wavering with the eye contact, slowly reaching your breaking point to cave into anton’s gaze prodding you to talk about it.

god, can this light take any longer to turn green. 

your fingers found their way to mess with the loose ends of your bracelet, one that mirrored the one on anton’s right wrist. “it’s just . . . god, i’m going to sound so stupid.”

“like that’s ever going to happen,” anton muttered, and you scoffed, the eye contact burdening you as you glanced down at the mismatched beads of your bracelet. anton, even with all his teasing, would always stress how smart you were in his eyes, even when you did the simplest things.

“okay, just know that i was definitely over-analyzing everything, and it just got to my head,” you took a brief pause, twisting the faded blue smiley face hanging on the string on your wrist. “i just noticed you seemed off, like you were bothered by something? i mean, i don’t know, you were just zoning out, and when i asked you, it just seemed like you were brushing me off. so, i thought i did something wrong.”

“but,” you quickly spoke before anton could even begin to protest your observation. “it’s not like we didn’t talk, plus you did give me the judgy anton side-eye just for breathing. so, i was just overthinking it, and making it about me— which, for one, i need to stop doing, because just because someone is quiet does not always mean they’re mad at you, yn, but, oh my god, the voices.”

anton, secretly thankful for the slow turning light that remained red, kept his gaze on you, his eyes crinkling up as his lips were upturned to a smile at the sight of your ongoing ramble. although you were reserved with other people outside of your friend group, you always had the tendency to let out all the talking you withheld yourself from around him.

“yn,” he whispered, inching his head closer as his elbow rested on the dashboard between you two. “why would you even think i’d be mad at something you did?”

you turned your head to him, looking at him as if he had horns growing from his head. “maybe because you get upset whenever eunseok makes fun of your voice or when sohee steals your clothes, and i literally always do both of those things, so what if i went too far with the teasing?”

“they’re not you.”

“what?”

“eunseok and sohee,” he sighed, lowering his head to match your level, peering up at you slightly through his eyelashes, “are not you. hell, i don’t think it’s even possible for anyone to get mad at you.”

“anton.”

“i’m serious.”

“no, anton, the light.”

he immediately turns his head, hands flying to the wheel, gently stepping on the gas pedal, thankful for the absence of cars behind him. 

seriously, now it turns green. he complains slightly, second-guessing his luck, destiny, and everything in between.

the remainder of the car ride to the post office was silent, the two of you reeling in the comfort of it, pushing back your prior conversation to the back of your heads.

if you ignore it, maybe it'll be like it didn't happen.

as anton shifted his car in park, he switched off the ignition and turned his head to you. “do you want me to come with you?”

though he held a hint of amusement in his voice, you, nonetheless, knew he was serious, making you whip your head to him, giving him a look that only he could ever read. anton let out a breathy laugh, getting out of the car without needing to hear a single word from you.

the two of you walked into the post office, anton holding the door open before following behind you. “so what exactly did you order that it had to come from new jersey?”

“well,” you dragged out. “it’s not exactly an order, more so a package from someone.”

“then, why’d you say it was an order? i thought you were a spending addict again.”

“i like lying.” you shrugged as you approached the man at the front desk, giving him your name and id.

“so what is it?” anton prodded, peering over your shoulder at the package you had just been handed, to which you shoved his shoulder. he recognized the name and address of the sender— your home address.

“just some stuff that i never brought with me when i moved.”

“as in?”

“my journal,” you muttered, bowing your head from embarrassment.

anton gasped, “you mean the journal.”

“that’s a bit dramatic, it’s just a journal full of old pictures.”

“okay and? they’re memories,” anton stated the obvious, the two of you getting back into his car. “wait, we should look through them.”

“don’t you have better things to do?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, his excitement evident in the way he talked.

“um, no?” anton sassed. “wait, actually, put it on pause, we’re going to the convenience store first. you owe me food.”

you laughed, shaking your head at how quick he was to remember your half-assed promise to him.

the moment anton shut off his car, parked in the lot of the store, he ran out of the vehicle, rushing to your side to pull your door open. he then dragged you by the arm, trying to get you to walk faster.

“hurry up, you slow ass,” anton whined, pushing you by your shoulders towards the door, the bell ringing as you two entered. “you owe me for wasting my brain power on driving.”

“i miss when you were nice to me,” you sighed, smacking anton’s arm to get him away from you to which he stuck his tongue out at you, you following his actions.

“okay, here’s the mission,” at his words, you scrunched your face. mission? “we split up to save time, but we can only get things for the other person.”

before you could protest, he already began pushing you to one side of the store.

“wait, but what if you poison me or, worse, feed me seaweed,” you shuddered, looking back at the boy, his back to you as he walked in the opposite direction.

he looked back at you, remembering how sick you’d gotten the last time you ate the store-bought packets of seaweed, “i won’t, i promise.”

you looked away, beginning to search the aisles for something, anything that you knew anton would like. yet, you were somehow prompted to turn back a second time, looking back at your best friend, rapidly scanning through the aisles.

you chuckled, beginning to turn back before you bumped into a firm chest, the heat rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment as the stranger’s items fell from their hands.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!”

anton jumped, hearing the ruckus and he peeked up above the shelves, catching sight of you and the stranger, laughing at how you panicked to help out in retrieving the fallen items. he had made a mental note to pick on you about it later.

once he was satisfied with the items he was carrying, having a small array of your favorite snacks, he wandered to the front of the store, hoping to find you there. instead, he furrowed his brows at your absence, racking his brain to see if he forgot to tell you to meet back at the entrance so you could pay together— not that he would let you pay, despite your promise.

anton, driven by his rising worries, began walking in the direction where he had sent you, preparing to peer through each aisle for you. though he didn’t have to, only to find you at the exact place he last spotted you, where you had bumped into the stranger.

to anton’s surprise, you were long done with assisting the victim of your clumsiness, and the two of you were engaged in a conversation. anton smiled, noting the lack of usual nervousness on your face when being approached by strangers. however, as quick as the smile was to appear, it was even faster to fall once his brain recognized who the poor stranger was.

there in front of him, was you locked in a conversation, with no other care to your surroundings, with kim taeyoung.

previous | masterlist | next

author’s note・❥・sorry for the long written part & my bad writing feel like i ruined the chapter LMAOOO this smau is becoming my baby and i rambled ALSO PLS I HOPE IM NOT RUSHING THE STORYLINE 😓

taglist (open!)・❥・ @yoursyuno @i03jae @started-with-f-ends-with-uck @kriize @pxnklover @reenfluffmarshmallow @1800-love-me @katarinaesqa @molensworld @misonade @100203shong @ffixtionista @soheendo @renjuneoo @ddieumi

[tanghuyuj]

sick day off requested

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort ; pairing: idol!shinyu x gn!reader ; warnings: sickness (no wayy), mentions of throwing up, medicine, that’s it! ; wc: ~1k ; @kstrucknet

maia’s note: hehe this was so cute to write. after writing so much for shinyu, he’s been bias wrecking me so badly.. i also desperately need to get back into my written works era. enjoy reading! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated!! 🫶

you woke up with what felt like, and most likely was, hundreds of text messages on your phone.

you were expecting them to be from your boyfriend, shinyu, as it was his day off and the two of you had planned a relaxing, simple date together. as in, you go over to his dorm and play video games on his switch with him. that was the ideal with shinyu anyways.

the notifications on your phone begged to differ, though, as they were not from shinyu, but his bandmates instead.

DOHOON 💬

yn shinyu hyung isnt feeling well he told me to text u

he says in a groggy voice, “im sorry yn..”

KYUNGMIN 💬

shinyu says he’ll have to cancel your date :(( he doesn’t want to get you sick

and oh is he SICK alright! that guy was throwing up!

you roughly rubbed your eyes after reading the messages. frowning out of concern, you wrote out a message to dohoon.

read under the cut!

YN 💬

oh no hwannie

ill be there in 30. what symptoms does he have? ill get medicine.

dohoon responds quickly.

DOHOON 💬

nono shinyu hyung said not to come

you groaned at your boyfriend’s stubbornness.

YN 💬

dohoon i’m heading over there. what are his symptoms.

you put your phone down to get ready, knowing that you’re going to visit shinyu no matter his member’s response.

after you’re done and all set, you pick your phone back up and read the most recent message from dohoon.

DOHOON 💬

fever, body aches, and a small cough. he threw up a few times earlier too..

you sighed, making sure you had everything before exiting your apartment.

୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

you stood at the front door of tws’ dorm, hitting two gentle knocks on it.

the door creaks open—creepily.. almost—to the dim apartment. there stands jihoon.

he whispers, “hi yn. keep it low if you can since shinyu hyung doesn’t know you’re coming.”

you internally groan, of course they didn’t tell him. jihoon gestures you to come in and you do as instructed. he closes the door behind you before walking you to shinyu and youngjae’s bedroom.

the door to their room is closed, and with no hesitation, you grab hold of the door knob.

jihoon quickly stops you, raising his hands in warning. “wait! before you go in, can you tell shinyu hyung to not be mad with us?” he says in a low voice.

you chuckled, “yes jihoon, i’ll tell him i was the one who insisted on coming here.”

he smiled widely, stepping back and signaling you to enter the room.

you turned the knob, slowly opening the door and setting foot into the space. pushing the door behind you but not fully closing it, you approach your boyfriend’s bed which was covered by a long curtain.

youngjae isn’t in sight, as he most likely wanted to avoid contracting any sort of sickness—with the clean freak he is—and is in another member’s room instead.

you hear a soft shuffling in the bed. “huh?” shinyu says in a weak voice.

you move the curtain aside slowly, now looking him straight in the eyes (which were half open).

“yn? what are you-“ he gets interrupted by a cough of his own.

you looked at him worriedly and began to take out the medicine you had brought from out of your bag.

“your members let me know you were sick.” you exhaled deeply. “and i know you didn’t want me to come but how could i not? look at you.”

a moment of silence passed as you looked at him up and down with your eyebrows furrowed.

you continued, “i don’t care about getting sick, i just want you to feel better.”

shinyu mumbles, “i’m sorry.”

you shook you head. “it isn’t your fault. is this your water?” you point to a glass on his cluttered bedside table.

he nods, unable to look at you straight in the eyes.

you take the cup and direct him to take the medicine you brought, helping him sit up in doing so. he does as you say and afterwards, takes your hand in his. his hand is warm.

“i finally have a day off and i just happen to get sick,” he pouts. “i was looking forward to being with you; to finally having a day all to ourselves.” his voice is low and somewhat unclear, but you’re still able to make out his words.

you stare at him, eyes full of adoration as you observe his messy head of hair and the way the corners of his soft pink lips turn downward. how could someone look so beautiful while being horribly sick?

“i know hwannie. i was excited too.” you reassure him, “and, there will still be more opportunities for us to spend time together in the future, okay?”

you reached out to make an effort to fix his bed head, pushing strands of his soft hair away from his face. he melted into your touch.

“plus.. we are technically together right now. this still counts, right?” you smile at him.

he looked up to meet your gentle gaze. his eyes are tired and full of exhaustion, yet when he makes eye contact with you, a part of them light up a little.

he rubbed your hand softly, caressing it with love. “yeah, that’s true.” he hesitates, before mumbling something under his breath.

“huh?” you hum in question.

he cleared his throat. “do you want to.. cuddle?”

you grinned immediately at his words. did it matter if you got sick? in any other case, yes. but right now, when your loving boyfriend with his adorable red nose, flushed pink cheeks, and gleaming shiny eyes was directly in front of you and wanted cuddles, did it really matter?

the answer to that was no. it will always be no.

you giggled, “i would love to hwannie.”

please do not repost, copy, or translate.

check out my other works!

[joocomics]

extra points

day 2 — collar w/ jungsu ⌞⌗ kinktober ⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 rich boy!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) ── 1.9k words

✎… elite college au, sub!reader, kinky!jungsu, oral sex (m!rec), deepthroating, gagging, lots of pet names, praise kink, light bdsm play (usage of collar with a leash)

a.note ! this may be a part of something bigger one day

( kinktober masterlist )

“So unfortunate, you’re missing just one more point.”

You take the exam paper from Jungsu’s hand and quickly skim through it - your name written at the top and your course work right below it, with Jungsu’s notes written at the bottom in the same red color that he used to grade it.

At the moment, you’re too frustrated with the condescending smile he’s staring at you with to ask any questions about your mistakes - his presence alone is annoying you, - so you’re going to read everything once you’re home, and if needed, you’re going to text him to avoid having to deal with his attitude in person.

“Thanks,” you sigh, reaching for his course work. “Here’s yours.”

You can’t wait for the semester to be over so you can get rid of this class and the professor who thinks making his students grade each other’s work is a good tool for improving skills.

(Maybe it is, but it would have worked better for you if you weren’t paired up with Kim Jungsu.)

“Thanks, Y/N.” Another smile creeps up on his lips once he sees his excellent points. “You’re an angel.”

He smiles too much, you notice, and every time he does, for a second you wonder if there's a possibility that you might be wrong about him. Perhaps, he’s so popular because of his perfect smile radiating joy, innocence and politeness, not because he’s a secret jerk…

“I’m not giving you extra points if that’s what you’re assuming.”

It seems your expression changes drastically, because Jungsu looks at you with surprise.

“Of course not,” he replies as he unzips his backpack. “Can’t I compliment a pretty girl when I see one?”

Your heart flutters, just for a brief moment, before you take a breath and answer.

“You can do whatever you want.”

Jungsu nods and his lips turn up - of course.

But this time the effects of his smile remain with you throughout the whole day.

His idea is bad.

Really bad. Most of all - wrong. Illegal.

Cheating in any way is never the right thing to do.

However, after hearing out Jungsu, the idea gets stuck in your head and you can’t stop thinking about it; considering it. It sounds so easy and tempting.

You really don’t want to do poor on this class, any class, especially in this college. If you have the opportunity to fix this one small stupid mistake that’s keeping you from getting the good grade you deserve, why not take it?

Although, the real question is another one - if you agree to this, are you really going to do it for your grade? Do your bottled up feelings for Jungsu have anything to do with this? The secret desire to be one of his toys like you’ve heard many people call the girls around him.

Without this extra point your grade is not that bad - it's not excellent, but it's still good. In the same vein - it's just a kiss.

“So…” your mouth is completely dry when you speak up. “We kiss and in return you change my grade.”

“Damn, angel,” Jungsu chuckles, leaning back into the sofa, “you sound so strict and professional.”

“I’ll rewrite everything tonight, and when I send it to you, you’ll have it done by tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Jungsu tilts his head meanwhile his one arm leans on the back of the sofa as if he’s signaling you to join him already.

You don’t want to show how much you actually want to kiss him so you stand up slowly. You sit next to him on your knees, feeling your body temperature rising.

You’ve never been so close to him before. You can feel his expensive cologne in the air and you’re ready to welcome it on your clothes… on your skin.

“You can come closer.”

And with these words of his, all your hidden cravings open inside you. You’ve tried to bury them for so long, ignoring them by not paying Jungsu any attention. The idea of him, the son of one of the most powerful families in the city, showing interest in you sounded ridiculous anyway.

And yet, here you are - unable to contain your moaning just from his thumbs circling your nipples. Maybe it’s embarrassing, maybe he thinks you’re overreacting, you don’t care.

You keep following his lead, kissing him hard and letting out little whines and groans whenever you feel the need to - which is often.

His hands are underneath your shirt; he tugged down your bra to feel your plush breasts, but he still hasn’t seen them bare. He continues to toy with your perked up nipples beneath the clothing as his gentle tongue explores your mouth.

“How long can I kiss you for, angel?” He asks, and his voice after all this long kissing still sounds soft, but with a discreet raspiness that turns you on immensely.

At first, you’re not sure what to respond, but then…

“I already told you… you can do whatever you want.”

Jungsu observes your face for a moment, trying to really figure you out. It was your beauty and your unbothered attitude towards him that sparked his idea to ask the professor to pair you up with him for the entire class, but now, more and more things about you interest him.

Good thing he always gets what he wants.

“Looks like you really need that grade,” he teases, and you only answer with a coy smile.

The intense eye contact breaks once his right hand withdraws from your chest to unbutton your pants, and you feel the tip of his middle finger rubbing your clit.

“You’re sensitive everywhere,” he comments, satisfied at the sounds he’s hearing; your pretty moans are like a hypnotising tune. Another thing that he likes is how you’re not ashamed to express your neediness; how you’re ready to give him all despite him asking only for a single kiss. “And so needy to be touched.” His tongue traces your neck and in result your hips attempt to press you into his crotch harder.

Jungsu chuckles again and leans back to check you out, looking already dazed and so aroused.

He walks you through his big living area, then to his huge minimalistic bedroom where there's a beautiful painting above the bed with navy blue sheets. With each step you remove more of your clothes and leave them on the floor until you're both naked with goosebumps across your skin.

There's only one thing we need, he says before opening his wardrobe.

His tall naked figure hovers over you and you can feel the discreet dominance radiating from his toned body. He doesn’t even need to say anything - one look and one touch is enough for you to obey and satisfy his wishes.

As he puts the black collar around your neck, you gulp once or twice with your eyes roaming all over his chest. His arm muscles flex the more he moves around you, turning you on even with his scent.

“It suits you, angel.” He steps back while holding the leash from black leather in his hand. “Makes you even prettier.”

You switch positions and now he’s the one sat down on the edge of the bed, not letting you out of sight, - and you’re the one standing in front of him, waiting to see where this will lead.

“Down, baby.”

You kneel silently between his legs as he’s manspreading without letting go of you.

It already feels like this is where you belong.

Jungsu stares down and catches your hands flinching a bit; so impatient to touch him, but not brave enough to do it. He’s enjoying the little show, and especially the seductive view of your parted lips and your pupils blown wide, anticipating his next move while glowing with lust.

“The collar is already teaching you to behave, isn’t it? You need to learn to be more patient, sweetheart.”

You lick over your lips, noticing him roll the leash around his hand before tugging it down. The act has you gasp quietly as he directs your face lower; the warm breaths that leave your mouth envelop his erection nicely.

Jungsu’s spare hand grips on the roots of your hair and you pout at the pain in your scalp as he yanks your head back. This forces you to look up from his cock just when your mouth began to water at the sight of his big tip, flushed and glistening with arousal.

“Please—“ you whisper as your hands glide over his pale thighs. “Let me.”

“So cute.”

You smile softly at the way his thumb caresses the corner of your mouth before leaning back down into his crotch - once you felt the pressure of the collar giving you permission to do so.

His big size fills your mouth bit by bit after you lick it up and down. A surprised humm slips from your tongue when its heaviness settles on it; your puffy lips strech painfully to take as much as possible of him, and the two of you hold your breaths at the same time, curious to see how much exactly you can handle.

You’re already disappointed that you won’t be able to fit it all in.

“Fuck—“ Jungsu’s captivating voice moans above you from the pleasure entering his body; his leash guiding you in the steady pace he likes.

You put all your attention and effort into breathing properly through your nose, bobbing your head up and down in the rhythm that makes him groan the most, but it’s becoming harder to keep it up as the seconds go by.

Your jaw starts to hurt too much, making it difficult to swallow even half of his length now.

By tugging your hair back, Jungsu retrieves you from his cock, watching you gasp for air with hands still behind your back, the way he asked them to be.

“Good job, pretty angel.” He praises you and after giving you few seconds to breathe he guides you down again. “You’re talented.”

Your neck veins are emphasised beneath the leather as he keeps you between his thighs; your chin drips with saliva while his thick length glides towards your throat, causing lewd noise to erupt from each move.

He’s so big and the pain is bittersweet. Every time you manage to invite him deeper while keeping your cheeks hollow, his voice turns shakier.

Once he stops you from lifting your head up, the wet sounds of your throat mix with his blissful groaning. The gag, which he expected to hear soon enough, causes his toned figure to twitch; his hips to jump up for more. The way you struggle, slobbering at his throbbing erection has his hand pressing down insistently against your skull.

“Holy shit—“ The grip around the leash tightens the moment his abs clench; the muscles of his legs tense even more as he bucks his hips up again. “Fuck, I knew you can take it, baby.“

The next poking of his tip makes you choke which almost throws Jungsu over the edge.

He finally glances down when you start coughing, creating an even bigger mess in his lap.

“Easy, baby,” he cups your fucked out face with warm comforting hands, “come here.”

Following the leash, you end up in the centre of the bed. As you sink down, amazed at how the feeling of him inside you already makes you melt, Jungsu still keeps an eye on the accessory around your neck.

The leash continues to occasionally move you in different angles and directions; to mark your skin with possessive red hues; to drag you closer for a kiss and pull you back to arch your spine like a cat after you switch positions.

Jungsu has had this collar for so long, and many girls have spent the night in this same bed, but you’re the first one to interest him enough to make him want to use it.

Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[ruindunburnit]

After watching Death Note TV Drama ep 5 yesterday, I'm still kind of in awe of its message.

See, in most detective fiction, "the homosocial bond" is used in such a way as to consecrate the bond between the detective and the master criminal he is tracking. No one understands the criminal like the detective does, no one gets him quite the same way, and no one understands the detective like the criminal does, either.

The most famous example of course is Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty, which that BBC Sherlock show really pulled up to 11.

The second most famous would of course be Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham.

The third, I argue, would be Light Yagami and the Detective L (in the original manga and anime series).

Hey, listen to 'Playing His Game' from the musical, if you don't believe me!

(Fun fact: the Japanese title for this song, 'Yatsu no naka e', literally translates as "Into Him").

(Of course, if you have any others in mind, share them!)

The reason you see this happen so much is because it's an association of the bond between two men (the "homosocial", because it can never be allowed to be sexual) with the illicit, with crime and deviance. The detective is paid to know the insides and outsides of his quarry, of course, but he gets in too deep, the quarry knows him just as keenly; they're both tainted by it.

The fascinating thing about the TV Drama though is that it takes subtext and makes it text in a most interesting subversion, especially in ep. 5.

When Misa crashes into Light's life, she completely pulls on the assumptions of those around her (especially Sayu) that her motives for being around Light are romantic. Light is not fooled, but it's when she refuses to modulate her speech and avoid saying things only Kira would know, and in front of those cameras, Light has to quieten her in the nicest way possible, and settles on kissing her without her consent. (You know, something the WeToo initiative would call sexual violence). And yet, Misa is on board, since she was apparently sending covert signals that she wanted him, that he didn't pick up on because he's gay.

And from that moment on, the task force (who are biased in favour of his innocence), see his actions as those of a youthful man who would prefer privacy with his girlfriend, not as a warning indicator. They excuse the violence to excuse the possibility of his violence as Kira. And everything around his relationship to Misa, from what he says to her, how he lovebombs her, even just being near her, is about covering up evidence of his crimes as Kira.

In excusing one act of sexual violence to dismiss accusations of murder, in the multiple acts of emotional manipulation and lovebombing that follow, the criminal and the heterosexual are irrevocably linked. Heterosexuality--well, heteronormative intimate partner violence--is the deviance.

And no more stronger is that when, towards the end of the episode, Light tells Misa that she has to be willing to give her life to his cause, because if he thinks for a moment that she will confess to the police, he will take her life for her. This, friends, is what cult leaders do: they up the stakes, make them life or death, make you promise to give them your life for a worthier cause - whatever the leader wants. And what is an abusive relationship, but a cult of two?

Even more interestingly, the homosocial doesn't end here. Once Light gets brought onto the team in this episode and is asked to assist with how to handle the Second Kira's threat, he sets right to proving his innocence. How? By expressing concern for L's safety, by showing care for him, by expressing wishes to spend time with him. It's more subtle, but between telling him not to go along with the press conference, and hoping to have another tennis match with him - and giving him a ticket to see Misa's Ichigo Berry concert - Light is only lovebombing the man, just like he did Misa. The only difference is that the homosocial is thematically linked with innocence: I cannot be trying to kill you if I love you too much to do it.

The conflict here is that L does indeed know Light well enough, even at this stage, to know that this is more than a game of "gay chicken".

When L confirms that Light is "99% innocent" in his mind, to most that would suggest that this gambit worked, but here, L is indicating that he knows what Light is doing, and the logic may be sound, ("Kira would try to get you killed anyway, so my caring for you means I must not be Kira"), but all Light has done is given L a tool to exploit -- his feelings.

And only when L announces (right when he's taken in Misa as a suspect) that Light is "his first friend", does Light realise that's what he's done, and he's given him too much.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[miss0atae]

Random Thoughts about Gelboys EP2 (PART2) : the art of making a playlist, the digital letter.

This episode was centered around the ups and downs of Fou4Mod and Chian's relationship. Their different interactions are moving the heart and reactions of Fou4Mod who tries to keep Chian's interest on him. However, many elements make the courtship relatively difficult as Fou4Mod is getting mixed signals from Chian. The episode ends with them moving on a casual relationship with more intimacy, but no commitment and no status.

I'm here with a second part of my random thoughts about Gelboys episode 2. I always get super fixated on one or two details in an episode and sometimes it's eating my brain up until I can't stop thinking about it. I thought this time I should do something about it, so here is my take on one tiny detail in the episode. Chain texted Fou4Mod at one point and tells him they should share a playlist where they can add music to listen when they are waiting for their nails to be done. Fou4Mod is puzzled and asked his sister about the hidden reason why Chain offered to make this playlist. Of course, there must be a hidden reason as he believe they are flirting. This idea gets encouraged as his sister reveals to him that a classmate also created “a playlist for her to join only with him”. She adds it allows them to “extend their moment together” and also “when you add more songs, the duration is longer”. It means that the more songs you have in your shared playlist, the more “digital time” you've spend together. It is a testimony of the interest you give to the relationship. The more, the better.

Creating a playlist is just a more “modern” way of creating a mixtape or burning CDs. This is nothing new. The process is the only difference, now it is digitized and it can be shared, so it's not only a testimony of your taste in music, but a testimony of your shared interest in music. Making a playlist is not insignificant. You are creating a form of letter to express your feelings: it can shows who you are, what you like or how you care about someone else. I would also say the music chosen reflects the history of the person who makes it: what music you've been exposed when you were young, your current favorite artists or the trendy songs that made in impact where you live (I recommend you these two great posts, Here and Here, from @clairedaring where you can see how it is visible in the series) There is a song for every mood. The more time you take to curate a playlist, the more you show the care you put on the person you're designing the playlist for (it can also be a form of self-love expression if you are curating them for yourself). If you have trouble putting words into your feelings, it can be easier to use the lyrics of someone else to express your inner thoughts.

As the streaming music services became accessible by everyone who owns an internet connection and their updates tends to put the emphasize on “social media” characteristics, it makes senses that it can be used to do everything you can usually find in these interactive technologies. I've read that there is a term used about Spotify (the music app they are mostly using in the series) called the Spotify-stalking. I would say Fou4Mod has been doing it in the episode as he is seen checking Chain and Bua's personal playlist several time to make a comparison with the one he also shares with Chain. It was probably to show the act of making a playlist holds a lot of emotional weight. You can see that this act of choosing the right songs, but also the playlist name is a testimony of the link you share with the person you're creating the playlist. When we look at Fou4Mod and Chain's playlist's name “There's no full-filled love. Full-filled love is a person's name”, it gives hint about where they are in their relationship: not a couple, but more than friends… It feels like Fou4Mod is back into the “fouble” step he tried to avoid in his previous relationship.

Let's not talk about the playlist he shared with his friend Baabin to try to incite jealousy from Chain and he ended up deleting it… If the act of creating a playlist holds such a deep meaning, the act of deleting it is also quite significant. The playlist created is a reminder of a shared connection and a way of keeping someone close to you, so if you're deleting it does it mean this connection isn't there anymore? How will Baabin react? That's what I'm very curious about. Will he feel betrayed by the sudden interest Fou4Mod had for his favorite girl band that only ended up into nothing as there is no trace anymore of this and what impact will it have on their relationship?

I really like how the series portrayed the simple act of making a playlist as some kind of a love letter to put a light on its characters' feelings and the turmoil of teenager's love.

PART 1: Here

[k4shixe]

Broken Heart. part 2

Characters; fem!reader, Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro (gn!reader aswell)

Warnings; break up, meeting ex, drinking alcohol, partying, drunk, fighting, not proof read

Word count; 1.5k

Summary; After your break up your friends dragged you along for a party and you met someone new.

Here is Part 1

A few days after the break up with Gojo, lets just say you were more then at rock bottom. You sobbed and cried all day while listening to sloppy, sad depressing music which you said to yourself that you would never do. A few of your friends had to come and help you around so that you dont live in a dumpster. The days you did go to work, you noticed your coworker, the one who made you feel worthless and took everything from you, got demoted due to "complaints" and you couldn't help but smirk to yourself. Plus she avoided you twice as much so now you didnt have to see her ugly face. Guess it worked out after all.

Your friends on the other hand tried everything to make you do something but you were always "tired" so they gave up after a while. And as promised, you had gotten up to get a glass of water when you heard a buzz on your phone. Thinking it was one of your friends you looked at the text notification to see it was Gojo. You threw your phone at the couch and took a deep breath before picking it up. You knew you should have blocked him but you still have a little hope.

Gojo: Hey love, can we talk?

You didnt know how to reply to that. How could you? You didnt want to hear him out because there was nothing to say. He was caught red handed and basically pleated guilty. So you switched off your phone and turned on the tv. You got another text but this time from your friends.

Friend 1: Y/n! We're going out to the club today you should come!

Friend 2: Yeah, maybe you can find a better guy then that asshole you dated

Friend 1: Exactly! We are picking you up at 6 so get ready alright!

Leaving the messages on read, you sighed to yourself as you went to your bedroom. You had to get ready or else they'll drag you to the club in your pj's and what if you do find a nice guy? You need to look your best. So you spent the next few hours getting ready, ready to be the prefect person you were always meant to be. As you heard your friend's car pull up in your drive way you checked in the mirror one last time to make sure everything was perfect. Makeup. Great. Outfit. Spectacular. And lastly your phone. You walked out the door feeling like you owned the world and your friends hyped you up especially since this is the first time in a week you've left the house for something personal to do.

Entering the club, you eyes scanned over everyone inside, especially the men who seemed drunker then ever. Was the club that good? Before you could say anything, mostly about going home, your friends dragged you to a booth and ordered a few drinks.

"Cmon y/n! Have some fun!"

"Guys i dont think this is a good idea"

"Nonsense! Just have one!"

So you did, but one turned into 3 then 5 and it just kept going until the point you lost count.

Your friends eventually pushed you to the dance floor where everyone else was and you felt alive. The music was loud and pumping through your veins, the drinks made you loosen up a lot and you had forgotten everything that happened. You signalled to your friend that you'd be sitting down at your booth and began walking towards it once they gave you a thumbs up. Looking towards your booth, your vision blurry you didnt notice you bumped into someone.

"Oh my god! Im so sorry!" You say repeatedly.

"Its okay. Im fine. That was nothing" a deep voice replied. Looking up you see a tall man with dark black hair looking at you.

You nodded and you both carried on with what you were doing but you couldn't get the guys face out of your head. He was a fit looking man with a cut on from the top to the bottom of his mouth. Dang it. You should of asked for his name. You looked around to see if you could spot him again but no use. However what you did see was 10 times worse. Your ex, Gojo, was at the very same bar with his friends and from the looks of it, he was walking right towards you.

"Hey y/n." All the alcohol you had just disappeared and you didnt have blurry vision. Atleast not from the drinks. You friends noticed the tears that were threatening to spill out and rushed over to you.

"Hey what the hell is you problem?"

"Yeah, last time I checked your status was cheater"

You can not emphisias more on how much you love your friends. Gojo ignores them, looking directly at you, his blue eyes showing more then what he was willing to show. But all you could remember was the feeling of betrayal.

Your friends had caused quiet a commotion to the point some people started recording and others started to try break up the fight. You were too busy trying to hold your emotions together, your mind swirling through each thought. It was when you felt a hand on your shoulder that you finally came back to reality.

"You caused quiet a scene, huh Gojo. Leave the poor girl alone" the voice sent shivers down your spine at how calm he sounded. His deep voice was a reminder to who he was and upon looking up you were right. The same man with the cut on his mouth.

"Step aside. I wasn't talking to you." Gojo says as he walks up to the man who is supposedly named Toji. They were standing head to head to each other with your poor self in between them.

"I thought your single now that you cheated with that lame ass women" Toji says as he tilts his head in a mocking smile. No words come from Gojo but a glare was evident as Toji put an arm around your waist and pushed Gojo as you walked together. You were still processing everything, you wanted to turn around to see if Gojo was looking but you knew he was but you turned around anyway and sure he was. You couldn't lie, the satisfaction you felt seeing him with his eyes wide looking directly at you was amazing. You turned around realising the hand tighten a little around your waist and you became a little uncomfortable. You looked towards the ground and took a deep breath.

"Uh thank you for your assistance, but I can take care of myself." You say trying to get away from the man.

"Really? I saw how you were back there. And we both know that dumb fuck will follow you just to talk to you. He has nothing better to do."

Toji says with a slight chuckle. "Atleast let me take you home pretty lady" he says as he holds his hand out. "Ugh fuck me." You mumble not sure of what to do. "Oh? Can I really?" He gives you a smirk before looking behind you to see Gojo still staring. "Great. Let's go then" he puts his arm around your shoulders and takes you out of the bar, calling over a taxi to drive you.

"Y/n! Wait!" The familiar voice shouted out, the one that used to bring you comfort. "Why are you going with him!"

"Satoru, its not your problem is it now? Besides he's my new boyfriend"

Gojo stared at you with shock. "Y/n please. I'll do better I promise. Give me one more chance!" He pleaded with you, looking at you with such intensity.

"Im sorry. But I cant. I trusted you." You say looking down holding back the tears.

"Thats right. Now go to that side chick, she'll love to have you." Toji turned you around with a hand gently placed on your back.

"Bye Satoru." You whisper quietly as a tears rolled down your cheek. You and Tojo both got into the taxi as he flipped Gojo off and the taxi started driving down the street. "Boyfriend huh? I like the wound of that" he whispered closely to your ear with a smirk.

A/n: Here's a part 2 since some of you guys wanted one! Sorry for it being written later. I didnt know if I should do toji or geto but I think toji and Gojo dont like eachother from what I know so I thought it was better. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2 tag: @labelt-san @ritsatoru @multi-fandom-fanfic

(Sorry if u didnt wanna be tagged. Message me if you want to be removed)

[destinyc1020]

Tom was not just a random guy that Z could hook up with. He was the lead of a billion+ $ franchise that she joined as his endgame love interest. And it was Zs first role for a theatrically released movie. I think she would have been extremely careful to avoid hooking up with him if she was not sure about his feelings. Z and the people around her have said for years that she's an overthinker to the point of giving herself anxiety and in all her years in the industry she has not been known to sleep around. She told us that she accidentally friendzoned him giving him mixed signals so she was the one that had to finally take the initiative and ask him straight up. But when was this conversation? We do have Jacob and Haz conveniently abandoning Tom with Z and Deja to go rafting on Zs next to last day in Atlanta. And we do have that Starbucks video where it seems Deja was pushing Z to make a move. It's plausible that this was the day when Tom and Z had their conversation about their feelings, but they left everything in the air with Zs departure.

The other big clue we have are their likely anniversary celebrations at the end of September. That would imply that they decided to get together in NYC after they reunited to finish the shoot. I can see them texting and facetiming while she was gone and making the decision to try due to those conversations, just like it seems they decided to get back together through conversations they had while he was shooting Uncharted (thanks Tati for letting us know that)

Great points Anon! 😊👍🏾

Let's also not forget the Spiderman/Love interest actors dating cliché lol 😆 I'm sure TZ didn't want to be another statistic haha 😆 They were probably fighting against that attraction! Lol🤭

And let's not forget too how Amy Pascal also had "the talk" with them, and told them NOT to date rofl 🤣 I'm sure the studio knew what can happen when you put two young, nice-looking, kind, SINGLE actors together, working for long periods of time haha! 😄 Sony didn't want a 3-film franchise going to the pits just because the lead actors are now exes and can't stand each other rofl 🤣

Actors falling in love with each other (or developing crushes) while working on set actually happens way more than people realize. I mean, it makes sense, when you put two single, good-looking people together.... working hours everyday for months lol... What do they think is gonna happen? 😅

It's been happening since the dawn of time in Hollywood lol.... I've heard the stories.... especially with young single castmates on TV shows. 🤭