#they used to be my little way of escaping

[randomshyperson]

The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.

Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k

A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3

-&-

The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.

Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”

Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression. 

“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”

“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”

The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.

“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”

Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.

-&-

A stupid tree.

A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.

That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.

She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.

But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.

When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.

She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.

“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”

It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.

Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.

“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?” 

She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign. 

Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.

“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”

You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”

She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”

Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.

A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds. 

Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on. 

You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it. 

Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe. 

Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.

“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you- 

No. No thinking about this, not now.

She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.

She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony. 

“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.

“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.

“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers.  The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.

Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.

Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath. 

You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.

When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away. 

There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”

But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.

“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.

For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.

“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”

You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again. 

“Can you use your words?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”

She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still. 

But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.

“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.

“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.

It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.

The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.

To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.

Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.

“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”

“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”

You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you. 

Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going. 

“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-” 

Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first. 

Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it. 

It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.

She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.

“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.

“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question. 

As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”

Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.

She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.

“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”

You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.

“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.

You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.

Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.

“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well. 

“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately. 

“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”

You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.

Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.

Some old habits never die.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Patience

Thomas Disch: neil in the good omens game, is there a way to escape the dungeon without using the wizard's key? Neil Gaiman: ah! a very good question! Clive Barker: what? that's a terrible question Gaiman: ah but there are NO bad questions, clive Gaiman: curiosity is the rain that waters the seed of knowledge

Debbie Dadey: um excuse me sir neil gaiman but in Good Omens S2E42 aziraphale is shown performing the musubi dachi stance, but everyone knows that angels don't know karate Dadey:[pushing glasses up nose] i sure hope someone was fired for THAT blunder Gaiman: ah! a fine observation, thank you for sharing! Gaiman: so great to communicate with astute readers!

Gaiman: [putting gold star sticker on Dadey's forehead] i'm giving you a gold star for that Gaiman: in fact Gaiman: you all get gold stars! Koontz: oo! i want a gold star Gaiman: [putting gold star sticker on Koontz's forehead] and so you shall!

King: incredible! nothing flusters him! Poe: he's unflappable King: like the world's most patient kindergarten teacher Barker: no way, i don't buy it Barker: nobody's THAT patient Barker: i bet i could get him to snap Poe: clive

Barker: hey neil i've got a question Gaiman: yes? Barker: actually Barker:this is more of a comment than a question Gaiman: [sweating, veins in neck pulsing] ah yes, go on Poe: clive that's going too far

Neil Gaiman: you see dean Gaiman: you can see anything, do anything Gaiman: BE anything Gaiman: without ever leaving home! Dean Koontz: wowwww Gaiman: all you have to do is use your super power Koontz: my super power?? Gaiman: yes Gaiman: it's called Gaiman: IMAGINATION!!

Ray Bradbury: it was many years yonder when the open spaces were open and the blue skies were blue, and soda pop cost just a nickel and if you didn't have a nickel a smile would do, when you could see marshmallow dragons and candy corn castles in the clouds and you could do it all with the power of Dean Koontz: oh yeah imagination, i already know that Bradbury: and- what Koontz: yeah, neil gaiman told me Bradbury:

Ray Bradbury: listen neil i hear you've been going around extolling the power of imagination Neil Gaiman: ah imagination! the poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release- Bradbury: zip it bud Bradbury: there's ONE dream weaver in this town and that's me Bradbury: the limitless vista of a child's imagination ain't big enough for the both of us!!!

Bradbury: i have more child-like whimsy in my little finger, gaiman! Bradbury: and i will use it to paint a rainbow of nostalgic vibes that will have you crying! Bradbury: come at me, neil!! i'll make your childhood fuckin' magical!

Gaiman: wonderful, brilliant! just an excellent threat Gaiman: the craftsmanship of it was sublime, you should be very proud, ray Bradbury: Bradbury: are you Bradbury: are you being sarcastic? Poe: i don't think he knows how

Bradbury: you're so genuine, i can't stay mad at you Gaiman: perhaps, ray, there is room in the world of imagination for the both of us Gaiman: in fact, maybe there's room for ALL who seek to fly on the wings of a shared dream!

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Could we get Gaz reacting to reader spreading rumours on base that they're dating for no good reason other than to undermine his authority and piss him off? (Inspired by your reader flirting with Gaz on the job piece) 🙏

tasty tasty tasty.

ok so there is a reason other than undermining his authority. but a pissed-off Gaz is a pissed-off Gaz, right?

26 / 1.4k / comes after flirting with Gaz on the job

...

You're on your way to a briefing, eyes cast down on the paperwork in your hands. You did not do your homework, as usual, so you're skimming what you can in the four minutes it takes you to walk to the meeting room.

Which is why you almost don't see Gaz standing in front of you, arm braced on the wall, blocking your way. To someone else, he'd read as neutral. You know his face too well to misread the stern glower tightening his features.

"Excuse me," you say, trying to sidestep him.

Gaz doesn't move. He also clearly knows he can't be moved. Not by you.

"Late for a meeting?" he asks lightly.

"No, sir, but I will be in just a few minutes. So if you don't mind--"

"Not at all," he says in a voice that implies the opposite. "Since you're about to be late anyway, how about you and me have a little chat, yeah?"

"I couldn't possibly take up more of your valuable time," you say, slipping into the flirtatious tone you so often direct at him. You try to slide past him, but nothing escapes Gaz. "Though I'm flattered you'd--"

He grabs your arm. Not roughly—he never touches you roughly, probably because you’d just egg him on—but firmly enough not to be ignored. "With me, Private."

You're too flustered to resist as he pulls you through the halls and into a different office. Captain Price's office, you notice.

⬇ nsfw, revenge porn

“Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair in front of desk, then sits himself on Price’s chair. The corner of his mouth curls up. That’s unnerving.

You don't sit. "Sir, I appreciate your urgency, but I really must get to my briefing. Shepherd will wonder where I am."

Gaz's stare is steady as a hawk's. You'd love the chance to gaze into his eyes under any other circumstances. But now?

"Then Shepard can take it up with me," he says. "He wouldn't be surprised to hear we're spending time together, after all. Or hasn't he heard?"

You sweat. Oh, shit. "I, um, don't know why he wouldn't be surprised."

His eyes harden. “No? I hear we've been spending quite a lot of time together lately. Funny how I was the last to know about it."

Inwardly, you cringe. "I can explain."

“Yeah?” he challenges you. He crosses his arms, leaning back. "You can explain where the hell you get off spreading grubby little rumors about how you and I are fooling around?"

"I said I can." You fidget with the stapled corners of the packets of paper in your arm, folding and creasing them as your mind runs at ninety miles an hour. "So what did you hear, exactly?"

"What I heard was that we're seeing each other in the least professional way imaginable," Gaz says, voice clipped. He keeps his expression and tone controlled only with visible effort. "That I’m having a cozy little fling with a private. Someone who is technically my subordinate. That could cost me a lot of time and patience if my superiors decided to write me up."

"But Captain Price would never believe that about you, though. Right? I mean, the rumor mill is always churning out something. Last month it was Sergeant MacTavish and the girl from IT."

His expression gets frostier. "You started the rumor about us. I know it was you."

You fight the urge to glance back at the door behind you. You try to weave an excuse together, but it gets stuck in your throat.

Gaz leans forward now. His glare is so sharp it could slice glass. He seems to grow in size as he stares you down. He’s so intense, so intimidating, so… right there. Way too close. You start to get distracted, swimming in his dark eyes, before his voice yanks you back to reality.

"I know because some prick claiming to be your ex-boyfriend confronted me about it. Said you put the idea in his head that I'm keeping you warm at night. Took a swing at me, too." He narrows his eyes. "I don't like being put in a position to defend your honor just to protect my reputation, Private."

You stumble through a litany of excuses--you had to get your ex off your back; you meant a different Sergeant Garrick; okay, maybe that's not true, but you only just told a tiny little fib. Is it really your fault the rumor spiraled out of control?

It doesn't work. In fact, as you babble on, Gaz only takes your flailing as proof of how guilty you are.

You're prepared for him to tear you a new asshole (though not in the way you'd want), but to your surprise, he doesn't. Instead:

"You’re going to make this right."

You blink. "I am?"

"Damn right you are. I did your dirty work for you, and I'm sure as hell not chasing down your ex and apologizing after the rubbish he spewed."

"Then... you want me to tell him I lied?"

Gaz scoffs. "It wouldn't work if you did."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Ignore it?"

"Quiet down. I wasn't finished. There's no use trying to quell the rumors at this point; it'll only fuel them. So here's what we're gonna do."

…

You're not quite sure how this is going to solve the problem. It seemed rational when he explained it. Then again, anything coming out of Gaz’s mouth sounds reasonable to you.

You're sitting across from him at a low-key dinner joint. Not the kind of upscale place you're used to being taken to on dates. Then again, this place wasn't your choice. And technically you're treating him to dinner. He’s the one who’s quote-unquote "breaking up" with you.

When you'd questioned his logic, pointing out that it'd be way easier to just not and say you did, he gave you a half-amused, half-condescending look that made your stomach too fluttery.

"If you're gonna use my name and risk my reputation to be my fake girlfriend, I'm gonna get something out of it," he'd said. So now you've gotta wine and dine him at his favorite restaurant, and then you're gonna have to sit there and be broken up with. As if he hasn't shamed you enough.

That sucks. This sucks. You never even got a real date with him. And with your luck, your ex is gonna find out.

You do try to flirt your way back into his good graces during this fake-relationship-real-date. He just scoffs. Doesn't just no-sell you--he actively bites back and he's pretty damn mean about it.

You're not just a liar, he tells you--you're dense. If you'd asked him out like a normal person instead of flirting with him and then starting stupid rumors, he'd have considered it. When you tell him you had asked him out and he’d turned you down, he scoffs and tells you he'd have split the bill instead of making you pay, at least.

That's as far as he intends for it to go. But then, while you're waiting on the check, he gets a text from an unknown number.

It's a video. Of you.

You doing some very lewd things to what looks like your ex-boyfriend. Blowing him in the bathroom of some club or a restaurant much dingier than this one. If that's where he's been taking you on dates, Gaz can understand why you broke up with him.

Enjoy my sloppy seconds, chud, says the accompanying smug text.

Gaz is also starting to understand why you lied to get your ex off your back.

"What is it?" you ask, seeing the look on Gaz's face as he stares down at his phone.

"Nothing," he says, putting his phone away as the waiter sets down the check. Gaz pushes his chair out and rises, trying his best not to show any emotion, but his words are a little too sharp. "Let's go.”

"Now?" you ask, surprised. "I thought you were going to--I thought we would get our story straight about the, um, the breakup."

"We can figure it out on the way."

"To where?”

"Your place."

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery VII

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You get in trouble

"Have to be quiet," You whisper as you clip Bagheera's harness on.

It was one of the first things your Mami taught you when you were little.

Bagheera mews at you as you pick her up, pushing her into your backpack. You zip it up but still leave a bit of it open so she can breathe in fresh air. That was another thing Mami taught you.

Animals must have little holes in so they can breathe but not big enough holes that they can escape.

"I've got it, cub," Ingrid says, reaching for your bag but you push her hand away.

"I'm a big girl," You tell her, pulling your backpack on all by yourself," Can carry it myself."

Ingrid laughs, fondly ruffling your mane. "Look at you," She says," So grown up."

"I know."

Your bag is a little heavier than usual but you're very determined. You think if you can prove that you can look after Bagheera by yourself than Ingrid will finally take you to the shelter so you can get your own cat.

"Whoa," Mami laughs as you get out of the car with your backpack," Look at you go, cub. So independent all of a sudden."

"I'm a big girl," You tell Mami just like you told Ingrid.

"Don't grow up too fast," Mami says," Or you'll have to move out soon."

You give her a deadpan stare. "Don't be silly, Mami."

You run off after that. You know Mami and Ingrid are going straight to the field so you duck around the corner and pull Bagheera out of your bag.

She mews at you a few times as you finally work out how to clip her leash to your little belt loops. That means she can't wander off without you.

You're very proud of yourself as you make your way into the locker room, chest puffed out.

"Oh, cub," Patri groans with a little laugh," What have you done?"

You frown. "Nothing!"

"Having the cat doesn't look like nothing," Patri says, very pointedly looking at Bagheera."

"We're having a day out!" You announce," So Ingrid knows I can have a ginger cat too!"

Patri full on laughs now. "You're very sneaky. How did you manage to pull this off?"

"I'm mature," You insist," And me and Bagheera are friends!"

"Come on," Patri says," Let's go to the pitch and see what your mums think of this."

"I want a ginger cat," You say as Patri escorts you to the pitch," And I want it to have a proper tail. Bagheera's got a stumpy tail. I want my cat to have a proper one."

"Cub!" Ingrid's voice yells across the pitch and you instantly know you're in trouble. Ingrid doesn't use that voice a lot with you, her grumpy in trouble voice but she's using it on you now. "Why is Bagheera here?!"

Mami looks angry too, arms crossed over her chest and Patri pushes you forward.

"Tell them what you told me."

You take a big breath. "Showing that I can have a cat too."

"Cub," Ingrid says sternly and you wilt.

You sniffle a little as your throat goes all tight like it does when you're about to cry. "I really want a cat, Mama," You say morosely, digging the tip of your shoe into the ground," Just trying to prove I can look after one."

Ingrid massages her temple in annoyance.

"Cub," Mami says sternly," What you've done is very, very naughty. Do you understand that?"

"Sorry, Mami."

"Very naughty," Mami insists," You could have gotten Bagheera very hurt."

"Sorry."

She takes your hand and leads you over to the corner of the pitch, turning you around so you can't see the rest of the team.

"You're four years old now so that means four minutes in time out. Sit here and think about what you've done."

"I'm sorry, Mami!"

"I know but you're still going in timeout."

Mami doesn't take Bagheera from you and she curls up on your lap as you sit there.

You know you sit there for four minutes but it feels like a lot longer until Mami and Ingrid come over.

They sit in front of you.

"You were very, very naughty," Ingrid says to you," Not telling us you took Bagheera could have gotten her very hurt. Do you understand that?"

You nod.

"That wasn't very responsible," She continues," And it doesn't make me think you deserve a cat of your own."

You burst into tears. "I'm sorry, Mama! I was gonna look after her promise!"

You turn your bag upside down and shake it.

Treats for Bagheera fall out as well as a bottle of water and the collapsible bowl you use for Bagheera's beach trips. You've got a blanket too and toys for if she gets bored.

"Oh, cub," Mami says as she looks at everything.

"Left my bag a little bit open so she could breathe," You insist," And made sure it didn't fall in the car!"

Ingrid still looks mad though. "Cub," She says," Bagheera is a very special part of the family. She might have been scared all alone in your bag, did you think of that?"

You shake your head. "I'm sorry." All you can do is keep apologising.

"I can see that but it was still very naughty of you. Do you understand why?"

You nod.

"Why?"

"'Cause Bagheera could have gotten hurt and I should have told you and Mami."

"Well done for saying sorry," Ingrid says eventually," And well done for knowing what you did was wrong. You did a good job in making sure to pack everything Bagheera will need today."

"We can't do much now that Bagheera is here," Mami continues," So you'll have to take care of her today."

You nod. "I will, Mami."

"And when we get home, we'll discuss your own cat," Ingrid says.

[lxnarphase]

Please more Hikari and Todo. It's scratching this itch in my brain😩

IF YOU WANT IT ๋࣭ ⭑

☾₊‧⁺...lunar's note : AAA yesyes this has been brewing for a while, i am happy to write hakari i love him so sooooo much!! and ive got another ask for a todo fic im workin on so this'll be hakari's piece <33 it a bit short bc ive got a bit of writers block rn bc of finals taking away my creativity, BUT I THINK ITS GOOD

☾₊‧⁺...cw : smut, pre-established relationship, unprotected sex, dirty talk, begging, mentions of creampies, mentions of birth control, reader makes the birth control decision herself not for the man!!! never get on birth control just cause a man says to!!, hakari nearly loses it

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : you tell your boyfriend that you'd like to try sex with no condom and he can't help but get a little excited

"you...you what?"

the way you giggle makes him dizzy as you flicked the condom out of his hands with your middle finger and thumb. "you heard me, mr. hakari. no condom, baby girl is on birth control," you said in a singy-song voice. you made the decision a while ago and decided you were going to stick to it. "if you want to use a condom, we can, though, honey," you say, cupping one of his cheeks.

he looked so cute, jaw dropped as he kneels between your thighs, dick hard and twitching. "nonononono, i wanna try, i do, 'm just..." kinji lets out a heavy sigh before he shuffles a little closer. "c-can't believe you lettin' me d'this, cupcake..."

the poor thing, kinji looks so nervous, his eyes wide as he slowly, carefully, starts to push his tip in. if he's going to do this, he needs to commit, but fuck, your pussy was so hot, he feels like he's gonna die-- the moment his tip pops in, he is a goner. his head falls back and his fingers dig into the fat of your hips as a choked groan escapes him.

"hoooohmygod, baby, what the fuck," kinji swears, looking back down. he didn't wanna miss a single second of his cock pushing inside, but the view wasn't doing him any better. "you're so warm...are you always this wet, cupcake? fuck, i didn't know, baby, i didn't know."

you coo at him, how could you not when he already looks so fucked out? his pretty eyes are rolling back and his lip is between his teeth, the glint of his chain with your name on it dangling so pretty on his neck.

he's not moving yet, he's still inside you, so sure that he's going to lose himself inside of you. but then you start talking and he's so screwed because hearing you say such filthy things in that gorgeous, addictive voice of yours is kinji's weakness.

"c'mon, kinjiiii, you just gonna sit there?"

"mmn, poor thing, 's too good? you gonna cum just from puttin' it in?"

"d'aww, kinjiii...pussy made you fucked out already?"

yes. yes it fucking did.

weakly dropping down to his forearms over you, he presses a little kiss against your cheek before pressing his forehead against yours and glaring at you weakly. you know you've got him where you want him.

"doll, you're so cruel to me."

finally, finally, he starts moving and...it feels way too good.

"o-oh. mnn, kinji, shit," you swear, glancing down to where his cock is slowly dragging out of you just to push back in. "fuck, b-baby, you feel s' hot inside me..." the wet noise that fills the air as he slides back in to the hilt causes makes you both hot in the face, it's already getting messy and he hasn't even picked up the pace yet. he coos at you, kissing you once you begin to mewl his name. "i know, baby, i know, 's good, yeah?"

fuck, the sensation of being inside you without any barrier is intoxicating, overwhelming. kinji's pretty eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he allowed himself to feel every detail of your slick walls gripping him.

"talk t' me, angel, how's it feel, huh? c'mon, pretty baby, i wanna know," kinji whines, hips starting to pick up speed as he grows desperate to hear you say how good it feels.

but you don't even get to respond before he hits so fucking deep that you can feel yourself gush. the feeling of your hot, cushy walls hugging him so tightly paired with the pretty little gasp he gets when his sticky tip nudges against something that makes you get impossibly wetter makes him lose his mind.

"y'feel it, right? 's me, 's all me, an' i don't know if i can go back, baby girl, fuck! ohmygodd, you're so wet, so fucking wet for me."

"can i cum inside? you gonna let me fuck you full? hm? please, baby, i'll be so good to ya, let your man stuff you wit' his cum, 's gonna feel so fuckin' good, promise, promise."

"suckin' me in so good, 'm-'m gonna be in this pussy all the fuckin' time. you can handle it, right? gonna be a good girl and get fucked every. fucking. day. by hakari kinji? say it, i wanna hear you say it, cupcake."

"i love you, baby, y'know that right? yeah? yeah, love you s' fuckin' much, 'm gonna marry you and make sure you never have t' go a day without gettin' fucked raw by this cock, 's alllllll for you."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[siscon-stsg]

could you write a scenario about gojo fucking his sweet little virgin and innocent sister. When he looked so long her cunt, she blushed and said;

Nii-chan, p-please don't look at it

I love your writings <3

(CW: incest, innocent and virgin reader, my bad writing and not beta'd, satoruniichan being manipulative cuz yeah that's him. name-calling. oral (f receiving). corruption. degradation if you squint i guess? finger-sucking. cliff hanger cuz i'm evil)

THANK YOU PRETTY BABY YOU'RE THE BESTTT!!! i'm kissing you on the mouth mmmmmmwah c'mere. i suck at writing full pieces, haven't done it in literal AGES, but i did my best for you!! so sorry if it sucks!! my brain hurts i am not used to thinking for long periods of time. /j

satoru's eyes were impossible to escape from. he'd always make you feel naked under his gaze, like two stars sucking the light out of the night sky.

but now they gazed down at you with such hunger it was almost threatening.

“hmmm,” he hummed with a grin, long fingers tracing aimless patterns all over your wet cunny; “don' close y'r legs, pretty. don' ya wanna make your big bro happy?”

and that only made you whimper more. what was so entertaining about this? you struggled not to close your thighs around his pretty head of white hair. “niichan! don't look!”

your parents could be home any minute! what would they say if they saw you like that? knees to your chest on the living room couch, satoru inspecting you down there like he was eyeing a ring at a jewelry store!

he played with your puffy lips, rubbing them up an down. he pulled down the hood around your clit, he stretched your entrance to the sides with both thumbs; only to laugh at the sticky trails of pussy juice drooling down from it.

“why not?” satoru had to laugh at you. some nerve you had to complain, really, when your little pussy was drenched and pulsing, so far untouched. he spat on you, spreading it around your pink flesh with a thumb, and smirked when it got you all squirmy.

“c'mon, be good 'n stay still”. a firm, steadying hand pressed down on your tummy. “y're more than old 'nough to still be a virgin, y'know? i'd be embarrassed if i were you”.

was that true? was not having sex at your age that bad?

satoruniichan always had so many friends, did so much better in school than you, was always dating one girl or another... he'd know about that sort of thing, right?

after all, you were always picked on for being the prune little sister. your parents never approved of any boy you had a crush on, and being a good daughter you never went against their wishes.

satoru caught on your dilemma quick. he leaned in close, blowing his hot, tickly breath teasingly over your clit. “wan' big bro to change that?”

“change w-what? hm!” you moaned. this time you couldn't stop your thighs from closing when satoru's lips sucked on your clitty, slurping loudly until you cried out.

“pop y'r cherry, dummy,” your big bro chuckled. “that way, y' won' be so pathetic anymore”.

the name stung, “pathetic”. tho you could barely think about that with satoru loudly licking, slurping, kissing, burying his face into your pussy. nose into your clit, and purring. arms hugging your hips so you can't escape his hungry stimulation.

you couldn't even think, only moan and shiver. were big brothers even supposed to do this sort of thing to their little sisters? but then again, it felt so good!

satoru pulled back with your clitty slurped between your lips, giddy for the cute cries you let out. “'nd?” he said, voice much deeper and husky than before.

“c'monnn, say yes!” his cheeks puffed up and satoru pouted, like a spoiled child begging for candy. only that this “child” was rubbing your clit in tight frenzied circles with his thumb, not slowing down even as you trashed and squirmed and whimpered. satoru dove tongue first into your soppy hole, muffling his words in your sloshy muscles: “d'y' wanth t' be p'thethic 'll y'r lwife 'r noth?”

“n-niichan!” is all you could say, or cry. your muscles were stiffing up, specially down your belly. satoru seemed impatient, because his tongue swiftly exchanged placed with two long, too long fingers that crooked inside your virgin pussy. he felt around, until finding your gummy, sensitive little walls.

he thrusted and thrusted from his wrist at a sadistic pace, laughing at you and at your slutty teary face. you were going to be such a whore, he just knew. “wanna cum, huh? my pretty sluts wan's to cum?”

“y-yeees!”

your clit felt on fire under his slimy tongue. your walls were spasming, pussy crying as much as your eyes and it was like your body was made of jelly. you shivered and cried, and when your back arched, hips bucking against his hand, your eyes saw heaven and stars twinkled behind your eyelids and

satoru stopped.

“noooo! no! why'd you sto- mmph!” his slick fingers stopped your whining by thrusting down your throat. you almost gagged, throat and pussy convulsing in synch.

the albino sat back on his heels without pulling back from your mouth; one hand fumbling with his sweatpants until it came out springing. angry red, leaky, pulsing, and he rubbed the tip of his dick a couple times against your slit with a deep grunt.

“didn't give ya permission t' cum, did i? now open up f'my cock, slut”

[edenesth]

Midnight Fiction

Pairing: Wooyoung x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: One restless night, craving an escape from reality, you and Wooyoung lose yourselves to the captivating realms of your favourite fantasy worlds. Together, you traverse through the wonder of Narnia, the magic of Middle-earth, and the enchantment of Hogwarts.

A/N: Just a random little self-indulgent oneshot inspired by ILLIT's Midnight Fiction, song's been on repeat for me. These images have been flashing through my mind whenever I listen to it, so I'm taking this chance to experiment with writing The Chronicles of Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter AUs.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Don't you just hate it when you're caught in that limbo of feeling too cold without a blanket and too hot with one? Don't you just hate it when you lie in bed for what feels like an eternity, teetering on the edge of slumber, only to snap awake again? Don't you just hate when your room begins to feel stifling from restlessness, leaving you searching for that elusive perfect spot on your bed?

Don't you just hate it when it feels like the whole world is asleep while you're wide awake? You do, don't you?

Fortunately for you, tonight, you weren't alone in this plight. The person lying beside you, your best friend, your soulmate, your better half—your everything—seemed to be stuck in the same predicament.

"Trouble sleeping, love?"

In an instant, the weight lifted as you turned to gaze at the love of your life, awake beside you. "Yes, Woo, but at least I'm not alone," you whispered, smiling. He smiled back, extending an arm towards you in invitation. You pouted, your heart brimming with affection for this man, and immediately shifted into his welcoming embrace, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He sighed contentedly, tightening his hold around you, and peppering your face with tender kisses. "Perhaps sleep isn't on the agenda tonight. What do you say we find another way to pass the time?" His playful grin met your curious gaze.

You chuckled softly. "And what mischief do you have in store, my dearest Mr. Jung?"

With a playful boop to your nose, he grinned. "Would you care to embark on an adventure with me, my lady? Somewhere far from this suffocating room, perhaps?"

Bursting into a fit of giggles at his playful imitation of old-fashioned speech, you leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, you played along, "Oh, you present such an irresistible offer. How could I possibly refuse, my lord?"

He bit his lip, feeling his heart melt at how swiftly you caught on. Wooyoung had always been an exuberant individual, often overwhelming others with his energy and antics, but never with you. You were the sole person in the world who truly understood him. You shared the same interests and personalities, the only disparity being that you were a slightly calmer version of him.

If soulmates existed, he was certain you were at the other end of the red strings of fate binding him to you. You had to be.

Pressing his lips to yours once more, relishing the closeness, he pulled back slightly to catch his breath. "Well, come on then, love. Let's not waste any time. Adventure awaits us."

You squealed in delight as he leapt out of bed, swiftly yanking the sheets off you and exposing you to the cool air. With a playful tug on your leg, he pulled you into his arms as you steadied yourself against his chest, adjusting to the sudden movement after hours of lying still.

"I hope you're ready, my lady."

"You bet your ass I am, sire. Let's do this!"

"Seriously, Woo? This is the adventure you were referring to? A place far from our suffocating bedroom?" you asked incredulously as he swung open the doors to his absurdly large wardrobe in the spare room of your shared apartment. It was where your boyfriend housed his prized collection of branded apparel, insisting on keeping them separate from his everyday wear.

He flashed you a cheeky grin, flicking on the torchlight he'd brought with him and shining it upwards towards his face in the classic fashion of someone about to tell ghost stories. "Oh, come on, this could be fun. It'll be like seven minutes in heaven."

You snorted at his suggestion, watching as he crawled into the space, carefully shifting aside his hanging clothes. Crossing your arms teasingly, you quipped, "With a whole apartment at our disposal, why do we need to squeeze into a tiny space for some fun?"

Once settled inside, he extended a hand to you. "Don't pretend you're not thrilled about this. I see right through you. Come on, love," he urged, and your façade melted away like chocolate. With a grin as childlike as his, you slipped your hand into his and allowed him to draw you into the cramped space.

Amidst endless giggles, you squeezed your way in beside him. When he finally managed to shut the doors, you turned to him eagerly. "Okay, so what now?"

"Now, let the magic begin," he whispered, leaning in for a soft kiss. You sighed contentedly, running a hand through his hair as you kissed him back. But before the romantic moment could fully unfold, true to his nature, Wooyoung reached around your waist and began to tickle you. You shrieked, pulling away to playfully slap him. "S-stop it, you menace! I sh-should've known!"

As you tried to push him away from you, you found yourself instinctively scooting back. But instead of feeling the familiar barrier of the wardrobe's end, you noticed an unusual expanse of space behind you. "W-wait, Woo! S-something's not right—" Before you could finish your sentence, a loud gasp escaped you as you felt a cold touch on your back.

What in the world.

Finally, your boyfriend ceased his actions, freezing in his spot with wide eyes. Following his gaze, you turned your head and felt your breath hitch at the unbelievable sight of a winter wonderland before your eyes.

Swiftly, he rolled off you and helped you up to your feet, clad in bedroom slippers, both of you taking tentative steps into the snow. Your gazes met in wide-eyed astonishment as the chill of this new world immediately embraced you. "Woo, could we be in...?" you began, while he hurriedly threw on an expensive coat before draping another snugly over your shoulders.

Ensuring you were sufficiently warm, he reached for your hand and led you forward. "Only one way to find out."

Your hearts raced as you ventured deeper into the breathtaking snow-covered forest. Glancing back, you felt relief upon seeing the back of Wooyoung's wardrobe still there. As he squeezed your hand, you followed his gaze, and your face lit up with recognition as you approached the lamppost before you.

Locking eyes with each other, you whispered in unison, "Narnia."

Squealing with excitement, the two of you began to jump around. Your boyfriend started rambling, "Oh my god, do you think we'll get to meet Mr. Tumnus? Or maybe Mr. and Mrs. Beaver?"

You laughed and shook your head. "I don't know, but I really hope I get to see King Edmund, at least... or even Prince Caspian, if we're that far in the story already."

He scoffed. "Of course, you'd want to."

You playfully smacked his arm. "Hey! Don't pretend you're not also dying to meet the gorgeous High Queen Susan!"

Feeling a presence, you both turned to find a very unexpected character greeting you upon arrival. Standing before you in all his glory was Aslan, The Great Lion, the creator and one true king of the world of Narnia. Your boyfriend stilled, then pulled you down onto your knees beside him. "It's an honour to meet you, sir. I'm Wooyoung, son of Adam," he said, introducing himself, before introducing you as a daughter of Eve.

Aslan nodded in acknowledgement. "Welcome to Narnia; we have been expecting you," he began, catching you off guard.

"You have...?" you asked in disbelief.

The lion confirmed, "Yes, you are both here to fulfil the Golden Age prophecy."

Wooyoung sputtered, "W-we are...? Isn't the prophecy about two boys and two girls, with your help, ending the evil witch's rule?"

Aslan clarified, "That is correct, but you've left out one final thing; it includes two seers who can tell the future. With your help, we will defeat Jadis without a problem."

At that, you and your boyfriend exchanged a knowing smile. Of course, you were both the seers; you already knew how the story goes. Armed with this knowledge, you were equipped to guide them through their quest to defeat the White Witch even more seamlessly than before.

With a graceful motion, the lion lowered himself to the ground. "Now, if you'll both get on my back, we'll head back to the camp where everyone is preparing for battle." Excitement surged through you both, and without hesitation, you climbed aboard. As the journey commenced, you marvelled at the breathtaking scenery around you. With each passing moment, you noticed the snow melting away, a clear sign of Jadis' spell fading and the return of goodness, heralding Aslan's triumphant return.

As you and your boyfriend rode on the lion's back, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you both. It was surreal to realise that you were actually in the magical land you had both fantasised about since childhood. The realisation dawned on you that this wasn't just a dream—it was happening, right now.

Feelings of excitement, wonder, and disbelief mingled within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses. But typical Wooyoung being Wooyoung, he couldn't resist his mischievous nature. Sitting behind you, he tightened his hold on your waist and whispered in your ear, "How do you think he'd react if we told him he's fictional?" Your jaws dropped, and you shot him a glare, elbowing him in the gut and causing him to groan. "Now, why would you do that?"

But it didn't take long before you both burst into giggles. Despite his knack for mischief, you couldn't help but be grateful for his presence. You couldn't envision exploring the magical world of Narnia with anyone else but Jung Wooyoung by your side.

As you reached the camp, embarrassment flooded you as all the creatures—centaurs, fauns, and more—stared at you and Wooyoung in your mismatched attire. You couldn't help but feel awkward in your pyjamas paired with your boyfriend's branded coat and bedroom slippers. Before you could dwell on it, everyone began kneeling in greeting as you passed by.

"Welcome, seers of Narnia," greeted the voices in unison as you arrived at the main tent where the four Pevensie siblings stood waiting, your hearts pounded with excitement and nerves. Here you were, finally meeting your childhood crushes. Clumsily, you introduced yourselves before watching the crowd disperse.

Blushing under Peter and Edmund's curious gazes, you were relieved when Susan stepped forward with a chuckle. "Come on, both of you. Let's get you into some proper clothes. We know how it feels; we've been in your shoes on our first day here," she reassured. Wooyoung chuckled in agreement, "Yeah, we know that."

Lucy's eyes widened in awe. "Of course, you're the seers. You must know everything. Tell us, how does it all work?"

Blinking rapidly with pursed lips, you and your boyfriend struggled to find a suitable response. After all, revealing that your knowledge came from books or movies wouldn't be appropriate. Breaking the fourth wall so easily could spoil the adventure and make you both seem uncool. It was best to keep the magic alive, even if it meant inventing some details on the spot.

"Uh, well... it's, uh, complicated," your boyfriend stammered, his mind scrambling for a creative explanation.

Peter cleared his throat, exchanging a glance with his youngest sister. "Not now, Lucy. They must be overwhelmed. We should let them get changed and settle down first."

Nodding in agreement, Edmund gestured to a smaller tent beside Aslan's. "Right this way, please. We've prepared your outfits."

You had to suppress a squeal; the brothers were even more attractive in person. Though this version of King Edmund was still a child and not the king you admired in the later movies, it was still him, and you couldn't help feeling bashful. As if to remind you of who you truly belonged to, Wooyoung slid his arm around your waist. "Come on, love. Let's get changed." It was then that all four siblings realised that unlike them, you were lovers.

Emerging from the tent with Susan and Lucy's help, you felt slightly awkward in the medieval-styled gown, uncertain how to manage its intricate design. Meanwhile, your boyfriend had finished much sooner, dressed in a simple outfit of pants and a tunic. His lively voice echoed from inside the tent as you dressed, likely engaging poor Peter and Edmund with his talkative nature.

As you stepped out, his voice trailed off as he took in the sight of you in the purple gown with your hair braided halfway and the rest left down. Though not extravagant, you knew he found it beautiful; his stunned expression told you that much.

Susan giggled at his reaction, while you blushed slightly. "Shall we have something to eat, and break the ice before we begin our training?" she suggested.

You raised a brow. "Training?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, preparations for the battle against the White Witch's army. I know you're both here as our seers, but it's wise to be ready to defend yourselves too."

Wooyoung nodded in understanding. "Right, well, we'll accept the food then. We'll need our strength for training."

Gathered around a small table on the field, you shared a simple meal, just enough to provide energy for training. Keeping a straight face was a challenge as your boyfriend animatedly spun a tale for the Pevensie siblings about how you both received visions of the future.

"Yeah, it's not something we control. Sometimes it comes in dreams, other times as random visions. It's tricky... a gift and a curse, really," he elaborated.

Struggling to suppress your amusement, you watched as the siblings listened in awe. Concealing your laughter behind a cough, you nudged Wooyoung in the side, giving him a glare and mouthing, "Enough!"

The mood turned serious as Lucy nervously inquired, "Have you seen how this will all end? Will we triumph over the evil witch?" You were aware of the obstacles lying ahead, including Aslan's sacrifice to save Edmund for his earlier betrayal, and the battle feeling like a lost cause. Despite these daunting prospects, you knew you had to offer reassurance to keep their spirits up.

Taking this as your cue to speak, you smiled and nodded at the youngest Pevensie sibling. "Yes, little one. You—no, we—will emerge victorious. The path to victory may be fraught with challenges, but we'll be here to help you every step of the way."

After the meal, the guys geared up to train their sword skills, while the girls prepared for archery practice. Just before joining the guys, Wooyoung pulled you close.

"Have I told you how much I adore the way you talk to children, love?" he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. "Now's not the time for this, Woo; they're waiting for us."

He grinned at the pink blush on your cheeks. "Fine, I'll go if you want me to so badly. By the way, you look beautiful," he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek before darting off to join Peter and Edmund.

Turning around, you noticed Susan and Lucy snickering after witnessing the exchange, and you couldn't help but bite your lip bashfully. "Come. Off to training, we go."

After hours of practice, you discovered a potential talent in archery. Susan raised an impressed brow. "Huh, you seem quite skilled at this. We were worried for nothing; you'll do just fine on the battlefield."

You beamed. "I sure hope so."

As the girls continued their drills, your gaze kept drifting to the guys training across the river. Despite the presence of the handsome High King Peter and King Edmund, your attention remained fixed on your silly boyfriend who was earnestly attempting to wield his sword. He looked comical, but that was part of his charm.

"You're in love," Lucy's voice snapped you out of your reverie. Flustered, you nodded. "Why yes, little one. I am in love."

Susan smiled, joining the conversation. "So is he. You two look perfect together. Say, how did you meet?"

Your mind flashed back to your first encounter with Wooyoung. He had been at the next table when you were stood up by a blind date, rambling away loudly with a friend. Annoyed, you turned to him, asking, "Will you please lower your voice?! Not everyone is interested in your opinion on love at first sight!" Ironically, that was how he claimed to have fallen in love with you.

Chuckling at the memory, you decided not to share the full story with the girls. Given the temporal gap between your world and theirs, you reckoned they might not grasp the nuances of your relationship with Wooyoung. Instead, you offered a simplified version of how you met, emphasising the humour in the situation. They laughed with you, and soon the conversation shifted back to practice.

As the story progressed, you and your boyfriend grew closer to the Pevensie siblings, guiding them through every challenge just like rewatching the movie. Together, you avoided certain pitfalls and reassured them that everything would turn out well in the end.

On the night before the decisive battle, you would leave to stay with the girls to witness Aslan's sacrifice for Edmund. Wooyoung held you close, knowing that the next time you saw each other would be on the battlefield the following day. "Be careful, love," he whispered, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, returning the sentiment. "You too, Woo. You remember how the battle goes, right? Stick by Edmund's side and ensure Jadis doesn't harm him. Or better yet, get him out of that area. Just don't let her get the chance to stab him."

He grinned confidently. "You worry too much. I'll protect your precious King Edmund, don't you worry about a thing."

You scoffed, slapping him lightly. "I have to go now. I'll see you."

He couldn't resist capturing your lips in a loving kiss before letting you go. "Go, the girls need you," he urged softly.

As Susan and Lucy wept on your shoulders after witnessing Aslan's sacrifice, you held them tightly, offering whatever comfort you could. With tears clouding her voice, the younger sibling questioned, "How can things still be okay after this? He's gone... How can we possibly win the war without him?"

Gently stroking her tear-stained cheeks, you reassured her, "Trust me, he knows what he's doing. This will all work out in our favour. Just you wait and see, little one."

Susan regarded you with her typical scepticism. "Are you sure?"

Your nod was firm. "Absolutely."

Quietly, you watched as they clung to the lion after the enemies dispersed to prepare for battle. As dawn approached, you motioned for them to join you. "It's almost time. Come."

With furrowed brows, they approached cautiously. "Time for what...?"

Your smile was knowing as the ground trembled and the Stone Table shattered, leaving behind only a vacant space where Aslan had been. "For this," you declared, pointing to the now-empty surface.

Their eyes widened in disbelief as Aslan reappeared before them, alive and well. You watched with a sense of satisfaction as he explained his strategy, how he had fooled the White Witch.

Eager to reunite with your lover, you interjected, "Well, let's not waste any more time. We still have one final task: freeing our friends still trapped in Jadis' Castle."

Aslan nodded in agreement. "You're right, seer. We must act swiftly."

After rescuing Mr. Tumnus and the others, you hurried to the battlefield. Upon arrival, Aslan let out a loud roar as if to announce his presence. Spotting Peter engaged in a sword fight with the White Witch, you frantically scanned the area for the second youngest Pevensie and Wooyoung.

Time seemed to slow as the lion leapt down to save the high king from Jadis before ultimately defeating her. Alongside the girls, you raced down the hill to join them. Sharing Susan's concerned expression, you asked, "Where's Edmund and my—"

Peter noticed your worry, eyes rounding in realisation as he dashed off in a direction, with the rest of you following. Arriving just in time, you witnessed Ginarrbrik, the witch's manservant, poised to strike what appeared to be Edmund kneeling beside a fallen figure. Susan swiftly shot the dwarf down with an arrow, prompting you to rush forward.

To your horror, instead of finding the injured king as in the story, it was Wooyoung lying there, clutching his abdomen. Edmund explained, "I'm sorry. I should've listened to him when he told me to run. He shielded me when the witch attacked."

Turning to the youngest, you urgently requested, "Lucy! The cordial from Father Christmas, please!" She handed it over, and you watched anxiously as Wooyoung swallowed a drop. Slowly, colour returned to his face, and he opened his eyes. "Hey, love."

Tears of relief and anger filled your eyes as you hugged him tightly. "Don't 'hey' me! You scared me half to death, you idiot!"

He chuckled and hugged you back. "I thought you were more worried about him. But I saved him, didn't I?"

You tightened your grip on him. "Yes, but not like this, Jung Wooyoung."

"Must you really leave?" Queen Lucy's voice carried a hint of sadness as you and your boyfriend prepared to depart after the royal coronation. You struggled with how to explain to her that your departure signalled the end of this chapter of the story, though you dared not utter those words outright.

Seeing her crestfallen expression, clearly still reeling from Aslan's departure, made it even harder to say goodbye. You offered her a comforting smile and gently patted her head. "I'm sorry, Lu. But we really must go. Our journey isn't over yet."

"But where will you go?" the child's voice quivered with uncertainty.

Your boyfriend's grin was reassuring. "Ah, that's our secret. But rest assured, we won't forget you or the adventures we've shared."

After bidding farewell to all the characters from the first instalment of The Chronicles of Narnia, you and Wooyoung returned to the exact spot where you had entered the world. Hand in hand, your steps slowed as you approached the familiar lamppost that had greeted you upon your arrival.

"So, how was that for an adventure?" Wooyoung asked, breaking the silence as he pulled you close to him.

You melted into his embrace, a smile spreading across your face. "It was amazing."

He smirked, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Really? But you didn't even get to steal King Edmund's heart."

You couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, stop it, you!"

He chuckled, his tone turning slightly more serious. "I guess it was fun being new characters in a story. But wouldn't it be nice to live the main characters' lives instead?"

You gently pulled away, taking his hand and leading him back towards his wardrobe. "I suppose it would be, Woo. Let's go."

Be careful what you wish for; that adage couldn't have been more accurate. As you ventured through the wardrobe with your boyfriend trailing behind, your eyes widened in astonishment when you emerged into a scene completely unlike your shared apartment. Taking in the surroundings, you recognised the breathtaking interior of Rivendell, or Imladris in Elven-Tongue, a place you had always dreamed of from the Lord of the Rings.

"Woo?" you called out, but he wasn't there.

Instead, you found yourself face to face with a mirror, and you gasped at your reflection. You recognised the Elvish features, reaching up to touch your pointed ears and the long hair cascading below your waist. The elegant gown confirmed your suspicions: you were Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar. But if you were Arwen, then that would mean your boyfriend was the Ranger of the North.

That fool... he jinxed it.

Unlike in Narnia, you weren't a new character here. Suddenly, you were hit with a surge of sorrow, as if you were experiencing Arwen's emotions firsthand. Her father's disapproval of her love for Aragorn, a mortal, echoed within you, reminding you of the struggles you faced with your own parents. The memories flooded in, replacing those of Arwen and Aragorn with moments between you and Wooyoung, making the situation feel eerily real. It brought back the times when your parents had opposed your relationship, insisting you deserved someone better.

You immediately realised the part of the story you were in. The War of the Ring raged on, and evil spread throughout Middle-earth. Your father, Lord Elrond, had been urging you to depart for the Undying Lands, a place of safety far from the conflict. However, the thought of leaving your lover, who was on a quest to fight evil and protect Frodo, the Ring-bearer, filled you with reluctance.

Just like in the story, you faced the dilemma of choosing between your immortal heritage and your love for a mortal. The parallels between your situation and that of Arwen and Aragorn were striking, and it sent shivers down your spine. You knew how it went in the tale; she eventually gave up her immortality to be with him. It was almost uncanny how similar it was to your reality, where you had fought fiercely to be with Wooyoung despite your parents' objections, which left you currently with a strained relationship with them.

Standing in the familiar area filled you with a sense of dread. This was the moment where Aragorn would soon depart for battle, and where he would tell Arwen to leave for the Undying Lands for her own good. But now, with Wooyoung by your side, you knew things would be different.

Despite the eerie familiarity of the scene, you felt a newfound determination. As if guided by some unseen force, you approached the spot where Aragorn and Arwen would have their fateful conversation. This time, though, you were ready to make a different choice.

As you approached Wooyoung, your heart raced with fear and urgency. "Woo! Why didn't you come to find me? Were you really going to leave like he did?" The dread you felt wasn't just Arwen's; it was yours too. You realised this when he let out a deep breath and met your gaze with a seriousness that sent chills down your spine.

"You know, maybe your parents had a point," he began, his words cutting through the air. "You are their daughter after all, and that will never change. I'm just another guy you're dating, and guys come and go. Perhaps it's not so rational for you to ruin your relationship with your parents just for an outsider like me. Besides, maybe you do deserve someone much better."

Your heart sank as his words washed over you, and you frowned in disbelief. "What the hell are you talking about?! We both know what Elrond said to Aragorn right before this scene. Don't tell me that silly little talk really had you doubting our reality?"

He sighed heavily, his expression pained. "But is he wrong, though? Maybe Arwen was a fool for staying... In the end, Aragorn dies of old age anyway, and she continues to live on in sorrow. What if our reality isn't that far off? Maybe it'll only end in pain?"

His words pierced your heart like a dagger, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The weight of his doubts and uncertainties pressed down on you, threatening to suffocate you. But deep down, you knew that despite the risks and the potential for pain, your love for him was worth fighting for.

Gathering yourself, you took a deep breath to steady your thoughts before speaking. "I understand you might be influenced by Aragorn's feelings, just as I am by Arwen's. But deep down, I know you don't truly mean what you're saying. Regardless, we both know how this story unfolds in the end. If you must go, then go. I'll see you soon. Have fun beating up the bad guys, Woo."

A hush fell between you both as he absorbed your words, his tough exterior crumbling. Regret clouded his features as he stepped closer, reaching for your hands. "Wait, you're right. I... I must have been too swept up in Aragorn's emotions. I'm so sorry, love."

You smiled, gently cupping his face. "You said it yourself, how nice it would be to live the lives of the main characters. Look at how it turned out, huh?" you teased, and he flushed with embarrassment. "God, I'm such an idiot."

You smirked. "You always have been."

He grinned. "Well, now that we're the main characters, perhaps we can reshape the story and make it our own. You've always dreamed of being in Rivendell. Let's use this opportunity to explore the place."

You scoffed, though a spark of excitement ignited within you at his suggestion. "But don't you have to leave for battle?"

He rolled his eyes. "Gurl, Sauron and his army of clowns can wait. Now, come on."

Hand intertwined with his, you dashed through the exquisite halls of Elrond's house. Your heart soared as you absorbed the surreal surroundings, the sight of Wooyoung's reassuring presence ahead of you filling you with joy. This was the very scenario you had dreamt of for so long – being in this fantastical place with the one you loved.

Your steps faltered as you reached what seemed to be the area where the Council of Elrond took place, where the Fellowship of the Ring was first formed.

"We're actually here, holy crap," Wooyoung muttered in amazement.

You couldn't help but giggle. "Is that cooler than the fact that you're Aragorn? Speaking of which, I'm so envious of you."

He raised a brow. "For what? You get to hang around here and look so beautiful all the time while I go out and fight evil."

You nodded. "Yeah, but you get to be with Legolas all the time."

He snorted in disbelief. "Unbelievable... I'm never letting you near him. First, King Edmund, and now the blonde elf."

You pouted. "Pfft, it's not like there's ever been anything between Arwen and Legolas. You have nothing to worry about. Plus, you'll have Éowyn falling at your feet later on. Let's hope you still remember me by then."

He sputtered at that. "In case you forgot, she got rejected anyway."

You scoffed. "Yes, but that was Aragorn. The same can't be said for you."

His jaw dropped. "What—hey! You're the only one for me, no matter the universe!" he insisted as you continued walking, grinning in satisfaction for catching him off guard as you moved on to the next location.

"Ah, this is where that iconic scene took place," your boyfriend remarked as you stepped onto the moonlit bridge, reminiscent of the moment when Arwen handed her necklace, the Evenstar, to Aragorn. It symbolises her love and defiance against her father, signifying her choice to give up her immortality to be with him.

Standing in the same spot as the characters in the movie, you watched as he retrieved the jewellery from his pocket. "Come, my lady. Would you like to recreate that scene?" he asked playfully, holding out the pendant.

Meeting his gaze, you took a deep breath before reciting your favourite line, "I would rather share one lifetime with you... than face all the ages of the world alone."

At that moment, the playfulness faded from his expression, and he sensed a deeper meaning behind your words, a reflection of your genuine emotions toward each other. Recalling a past conversation where you admitted that without him, you might have chosen not to love at all, he was deeply moved. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours, conveying his affection. Pulling back slightly, he grinned, "That has to be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me. Can you say that to me every once in a while?"

You chuckled, giving him a playful smack on the chest. "If that's what it takes to stop you from annoying me, then yes."

"Hey!" he protested, chasing after you as you ran off to explore other areas of Rivendell.

As you wandered, you recognised the next destination instantly—it was where Aragorn dreamed of his time with Arwen. With a grin, Wooyoung sauntered over and lay down on the futon, attempting to recreate the scene once again. You stood where the she-elf had stood, watching him pretend to wake up.

"I am asleep. This is a dream," he recited Aragorn's words, and you burst into a small giggle. Settling down beside him, you recited Arwen's line, "Then it is a good dream. Sleep," before leaning down to kiss him as she had.

Deep down, you both wished to stay in this fantasy forever, but you knew you had to part for the story to progress. He sighed as you pulled away. "As much as I'd love to keep staying here with you, the war isn't going to win itself. I'll see you at the end of the story."

You nodded, kissing him again. "See you, Woo." He winked as he got up from his spot. "Don't worry, I won't spare Éowyn a glance."

Laughing, you waved as you watched him go.

You anticipated what was to come next, knowing that it was the day when most of the elves in Rivendell would depart for Valinor, the Undying Lands. It was the moment when Elrond would once again attempt to persuade Arwen to go with them.

As you lay on the futon in your room, watching the white curtains flutter gently in the breeze, you prepared yourself for the inevitable. Just as your thoughts turned to your boyfriend, your father entered, speaking in Sindarin, the Elven language. Remarkably, you comprehended every word.

"It is time. The ships are departing for Valinor. Go now... before it is too late."

Oh boy, here we go.

You immediately sat up from your position to respond, "I have already made my choice." Elrond took a step closer to you. "He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?" You gazed up at him, overwhelmed by the emotions flowing through your being that were Arwen's, as you answered, "There is still hope."

Because you knew there was.

As he continued his monologue, which you had already heard more than once and knew was coming, it still hurt. His words reminded you that no matter what, choosing to be with Aragorn—or in your case, Wooyoung—would only lead to pain. Tears streamed down your cheeks, his words echoing the sentiments you had heard from your parents when they desperately tried to separate you and your boyfriend, telling you he could not offer you much and that you would only end up regretting your decision.

"There is nothing for you here. Only death," he uttered, and your heart broke despite expecting those words. The words sounded eerily familiar to what you had heard in a different context, where Wooyoung would not be able to bring you everlasting happiness and his perceived incompetence would eventually disappoint you.

No, that's not true...

But you felt a new emotion when Elrond sat down beside you, looking down at you with so much pain in his eyes. You could see he was not ready to lose his daughter. It must have been cruel for him that his daughter was choosing to die and leave his side.

He wiped your tears away gently. "Do I not also have your love?"

For once, you empathised with his feelings and wondered if this was how your parents felt. You used to view Elrond as the bad guy for constantly trying to separate his daughter from the man she loved. Were your parents also like him? Were they afraid of losing you? Maybe they just didn't know your boyfriend well enough and didn't trust him yet to take care of you. You felt yourself crumbling under the weight of these thoughts.

"You have my love, father," you cried as he enveloped you in his arms. Perhaps you were a bad daughter, not for choosing to be with Wooyoung, but for failing to help your parents understand why you chose him.

If you couldn't ease your parents' worries in reality, perhaps you could do it here for your fictional father. You were certain Wooyoung would understand; none of this was real anyway. He was still yours, and you would always be his. Maybe, just maybe here, you could be a good daughter to Elrond.

Joining the rest of the elves and making your way towards the ship to Valinor, you couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty gnawing at you. Despite your initial determination to stand firm in your decision to pick your boyfriend, you found yourself swept along with the crowd. Just like Arwen, you were heading towards the Undying Lands.

However, unlike her, you didn't have the vision of her child with Aragorn to sway your decision. You already knew how her story ended. Perhaps it was up to you to create a different ending.

Forgive me, Woo.

As the story reached its climax and the victory over Sauron marked the beginning of a new era for Middle-earth, everything seemed to pass in a blur. Finally, it was Aragorn's coronation in Minas Tirith, and Wooyoung turned around excitedly after Gandalf placed the crown on his head. Throughout the events, he had fun experiencing what the ranger did, but his thoughts were consumed by you. Maybe living the lives of the main characters was more burdensome than enjoyable.

After exchanging words with Legolas and anticipating your arrival, Wooyoung turned expectantly, only to find you missing. You did not appear the way Arwen did for Aragorn. The realisation dawned on him with dread—if you weren't there, it could only mean you must have left for Valinor. He approached Lord Elrond, whose expression remained unreadable, and asked, "Did she...?"

As your father bowed his head slightly and offered a pat on the shoulder, Wooyoung's heart sank like a stone. The weight of the realisation pressed down on him: you had chosen to leave. But why?

What had prompted you to go, despite your promise to reunite with him here? Had Elrond's words swayed you? Did they somehow make you see that perhaps your parents had been right all along? You had warned him not to let the emotions of his character overwhelm him, but had you succumbed to them yourself? These questions swirled in his mind, leaving him grasping for answers.

"She hoped you'd understand," Elrond said.

Your boyfriend offered a humourless smirk. "That I'd understand...? I suppose I do."

"Do you really? Tell me what you understand then," your voice chimed in from behind him, causing him to whirl around with wide eyes. There you stood, a mischievous grin lighting up your face. "Surprise, Jung Wooyoung. Did you think I wasn't going to come back to you?" you whispered, prompting him to cup your face tenderly. "You little minx," he muttered before capturing your lips in a loving kiss, eliciting cheers from the crowd.

As you pulled away and embraced him, you caught sight of your father's gaze. The expression on Lord Elrond’s face as he let his daughter go was a mix of love, fear, and vulnerability. It was the look of a father releasing his child to pursue something he didn’t entirely approve of but knew would bring her happiness. He struggled to maintain his composure, torn between his paternal instincts and the desire to see you happy. That night, you eventually broke away from the group bound for Valinor and returned to Rivendell, much like Arwen did. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Wooyoung, and you knew you could never let him go—neither in your world nor in this one.

"You know, I was just thinking... being the main character really isn't all it's cracked up to be," your boyfriend mused as you both lay in the King's chambers.

With your head nestled on his chest, you nodded, "I agree. It made me feel way too much emotion. But... I do think it's time I talk to my parents about us. They're my parents, and you're the love of my life. I can't imagine life without either of you. Hopefully, they'll be as understanding as Elrond was."

He smiled, pulling you closer, "Yeah, maybe we should have made more effort before."

Cuddling closer to him, you continued, "Yes, maybe... but yeah, we've already played the roles of both new and main characters. Perhaps it'd be nice to simply exist in a story without importance just like extras."

He sighed, kissing your head, "That does sound nice... We'll just be spectators, enjoying our place in the universe."

Closing your eyes, you sensed a peculiar shift in your surroundings, almost like you were on a train. When you opened your eyes again, you furrowed your brows in confusion. You were still in Wooyoung's arms, but Middle-earth was nowhere to be seen.

Shaking your boyfriend awake, you felt his body tense beside you as he tightened his grip on you. With a gasp, he absorbed the new setting. Indeed, you were on a train, but not just any train...

The Hogwarts Express.

Locking eyes, you whispered in unison, "We're going to Hogwarts."

As if on cue, the lady pushing the trolley of sweets appeared, her voice chirping, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Before you could decline, Wooyoung swiftly released you and darted forward. "Ooh, yes! Two pumpkin pasties, please! I've always wanted to try them," he exclaimed, rubbing his palms together eagerly.

You tugged at his shirt, glaring, and silently mouthed, "Do we even have any money?" He froze, realisation dawning, and reached into his pockets. With a sigh of relief, he produced some coins. Winking at you, he grinned, "Don't worry, love. I've got this."

As he finished the purchase, he lingered by the door, watching with wide eyes as the lady rolled her trolley to the next compartment. With his jaw dropped in awe, he turned to you, whispering excitedly, "Oh my god, it's Harry Potter! Holy crap, the Golden Trio is in the next compartment."

Rushing back to settle beside you, he handed you a pumpkin pasty and began talking animatedly while stuffing his face, his words muffled, "I recognised that look on him. We're in the fourth year."

You raised a brow, "Goblet of Fire."

He nodded eagerly, "Exactly. The Triwizard Tournament and, most importantly," you both said in unison, "the Yule Ball."

You pondered, "Hold on a second. If we're in the fourth year, then that would mean we've already been sorted. Which houses do you think we're in, Woo?"

He grinned, "Only one way to find out," as he reached for your suitcases from the rack above your seats.

With bated breath, you watched him work on opening them. "Let's hope we're in the same house. It would be funny if you ended up in Slytherin somehow," you remarked.

He scoffed, "No way, I'm a Gryffindor through and through. Wanna bet?"

You shook your head, "No, thank you."

He pouted, "I was going to ask for a kiss if I won the bet, darn it."

You chuckled, "Hurry up, you rascal."

As he opened the first suitcase, he grinned at you, revealing the red Gryffindor scarf along with his uniform. "I told you," he chuckled before moving on to the next one. "Keep your fingers crossed, love," he urged. And you did. When he finally opened them, you couldn't contain your joy at seeing the same scarf along with your robes.

Moments later, the two of you stood in awe at the unbelievable sight of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before your eyes. Your eyes welled with tears as you squeezed Wooyoung's hand. "We're here, Woo. We're really here," you whispered.

He nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "We are."

Before you could continue revelling in the moment, a nearby prefect rolled his eyes. "Move along, you two. You act like it's your first time here," he said with a shake of his head. Your boyfriend tugged you along as you blew a raspberry, muttering under your breath, "Because it is."

Entering the castle, you noticed a crowd gathering by the bridge, evidently anticipating something exciting. Gasping in excitement, you quickly pulled Wooyoung along. "We have to see this! It's the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students."

As the Beauxbatons arrived in their majestic flying carriage and the Durmstrang in their impressive underwater ship, your boyfriend's attention remained solely on you. Sensing his gaze, you turned to share a smile. "That's right, keep your eyes on me just like that. I better not catch you gawking at the Beauxbatons girls when they make their grand entrance later," you teased.

He laughed and drew you close, whispering in your ear, "Don't worry, you're prettier than all of them combined."

Blushing, you looked away. "Pssh, sweet talker," you responded with a playful roll of your eyes, unable to suppress your grin.

But as the girls from the foreign school made their entrance, dancing into the Great Hall later that evening, you couldn't stifle a snort at Wooyoung's reaction. Like Ron, he was clapping enthusiastically, clearly impressed by the display.

Pfft, all men do is lie.

Beside you, Hermione and Ginny exchanged judgemental stares, mirroring your own sentiments. It was hard to contain your amusement as you watched the boys.

When the guys from Durmstrang made their grand entrance, you found yourself staring dreamily ahead, just like Wooyoung had done with the Beauxbatons girls. Thankfully, your boyfriend didn't discriminate; he seemed just as entranced by the dashing and charismatic Viktor Krum as you were.

You burst into giggles when he finally met your gaze with wide eyes. It was his fanboying moment, and you couldn't blame him because you felt exactly the same. You still couldn't believe you were really here with him. Sure, you had already been to Narnia and Middle-earth, but the Wizarding World held a special place in both your hearts.

The next day, seated beside your boyfriend in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, you both observed with amusement as Mad-Eye Moody began his lesson. The students appeared bewildered by his aggressive demeanour and uncomfortable lecture on the three Unforgivable Curses.

Wooyoung leaned in to whisper in your ear, "What do you think would happen if we exposed him as Barty Crouch Jr right here?"

You turned to shush him with a glare. "We're just extras here, so please act like it and avoid drawing any attention to ourselves."

The rest of the class unfolded exactly as you had anticipated, with Harry growing increasingly suspicious of Moody as the professor continued to gulp down his Polyjuice potion. You and Wooyoung exchanged knowing grins, rooting for him.

After class, you both hurried excitedly to the Great Hall, where students interested in participating in the Triwizard Tournament were submitting their names. Settling on a bench, you watched in fascination as the blue flame flickered brightly, students from all three schools stepping forward to cast their papers into the fire.

Your hearts sank when you saw Cedric Diggory eagerly submitting his name. If only he knew the tragic fate that awaited him.

"I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, huh?" Wooyoung asked, his tone heavy with resignation.

You shook your head sadly. "I'm afraid not."

The sombre mood only lasted so long as the Weasley twins, Fred and George, appeared with their usual antics, brandishing their ageing potion in hopes of submitting their names to the Triwizard Tournament despite Hermione's reminder that only seventh-years could participate, you and your boyfriend couldn't contain your laughter. True to your expectations, the twins were ejected back from the goblet, sprouting white beards and sparking a playful fight that drew a crowd of onlookers egging them on.

However, the atmosphere shifted when Viktor Krum marched in with his headmaster trailing behind him. You and Wooyoung shared a giggle as the Durmstrang heartthrob locked eyes with Hermione.

Leaning in, you whispered in a hushed tone, "If not Harry, I still prefer Hermione with Viktor over Ron, to be honest."

Your boyfriend feigned offence, pressing a hand to his chest. "How could you? Hermione and Ron are the one true pair."

As the two of you engaged in your heated debate, time flew by and the next thing you knew, Dumbledore entered the hall with most of the students, announcing, "Now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the champion selection." Exchanging a knowing glance with your boyfriend, you both sighed in anticipation. "Oh dear, here we go."

As Dumbledore announced Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric as the champions of their respective schools, you held your breath, feeling a twinge of sympathy for Harry Potter, the boy who lived. "Excellent! We now have our three champions!" boomed Dumbledore, his voice reverberating through the hall before unveiling the Triwizard Cup.

You winced, murmuring under your breath, "Only one more to go."

Beside you, your boyfriend shook his head with a hint of amusement. "Man, if only they knew the Cup was turned into a Portkey, none of that drama would happen."

You pursed your lips thoughtfully. "Yes, and then there would be no more story to tell now, would there?"

He snorted softly. "True."

As Harry's name was called out, disbelief swept through the Great Hall. You watched with a sinking feeling as even his friends began to stare at him accusatorily, wondering how he managed to enter his name into the Goblet of Fire when he was only a fourth year.

Your eyes landed on Mad-Eye Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Jr in disguise, knowing he was behind this sinister plot. Exchanging hopeless gazes with Wooyoung, you both understood that, at this moment, you were nothing more than spectators. There was no action you could take; you were simply here to witness events unfold.

Perhaps, as much as you wish otherwise, some things were simply meant to be. Your boyfriend covered your hand with his, offering comfort. "Since we can't change anything here, let's not stress about it and just enjoy the moment, hm?"

A smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "You're right, Woo."

"There he is—the poor thing."

You both were hanging out in the courtyard, enjoying the calm before the storm of the Triwizard Tournament's first task, when you spotted Harry passing through, looking visibly distressed. Your sympathy for him grew as you remembered the strained dynamics between him and his friends. Ron and the others firmly believed that Harry had somehow entered his name into the tournament and deliberately kept it from them. It was disheartening to see no one on his side, and you felt frustrated on his behalf.

As expected, Draco Malfoy, with his trademark smugness, decided to provoke him. "My father and I had a bet, you see," he said, dropping down from his perch on the tree. "I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in the tournament." His cronies followed suit as he continued, "He disagrees; he thinks you won't last five."

You and Wooyoung watched as Harry retaliated, standing up to the blonde Slytherin with fiery determination. "I don't care what your father thinks, Malfoy! He's vile and cruel, and you're pathetic."

Just as expected, Draco attempted to strike back, only to be swiftly turned into a ferret by Mad-Eye Moody, eliciting laughter from the crowd. It was perhaps the only time you agreed with Barty Crouch Jr's actions, the only moment he seemed remotely likeable.

However, the amusement was short-lived as Professor McGonagall appeared to play the role of the good cop, firmly instructing Moody to release the bully from his transfiguration punishment.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco's famous words echoed across the courtyard as he hurried away from the scene he caused. Though Wooyoung knew he shouldn't interfere, his irritated state got the best of him, prompting him to slyly stick out his foot and trip the Slytherin as he passed by the two of you.

"How dare you!" Draco hissed, glaring up at your boyfriend.

Gasping, you dragged Wooyoung away with you, shouting, "Sorry, he didn't mean it!"

From across the courtyard, you caught Harry's eye and saw him nod appreciatively at both of you. Wooyoung beamed, waving enthusiastically before watching him go.

Turning back to your boyfriend, you smacked him lightly on the arm. "You! I can't believe you did that," you chided.

Wooyoung stuck his tongue out playfully. "Well, it sure feels satisfying, doesn't it? Besides, Harry acknowledged us."

You sighed, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I suppose so."

The next day, you found yourselves seated among the crowd at the stands, eagerly awaiting the commencement of the first task: retrieving a golden egg guarded by a dragon. "Bets, place your bets!" Fred's voice rang out, followed closely by George's enthusiastic calls for wagers. "Bets taken, bets taken here!"

As the twins walked around, collecting bets on who would win first place, you sensed your boyfriend about to place a bet himself. With a disapproving click of your tongue, you shook your head. "It wouldn't be fair when you already know who wins!"

He shushed you with a grin. "All the more reason to place my bet! When else will I ever be this lucky, love?"

Resigned, you gave up and shook your head in mock exasperation.

As you watched the first three champions' attempts with bated breath, your nerves were on edge despite knowing they would emerge unscathed. Sensing your anxiety, Wooyoung took your hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You already know how it ends."

With a sigh of defeat, you leaned into his side, seeking comfort in his warmth as he wrapped an arm around you. "You're right, I do know," you murmured softly.

Your thoughts drifted to Cedric, and a pang of sadness washed over you as you remembered his tragic fate. It was difficult to watch him knowing what awaited him, but you found solace in your boyfriend's reassuring presence.

When it was finally Harry's turn, you couldn't tear your eyes away from the task, despite knowing the outcome. Every moment felt tense and fraught with danger, and you held your breath until he emerged victorious, tied with Viktor for first place.

Reflecting on the experience, you realised that being part of the scene was far more stressful than reading about it or watching it in a movie, especially when you cared deeply for the people involved.

As the Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement and everyone crowded around Harry that evening, who proudly displayed his golden egg containing a clue for the second task, you and Wooyoung hung back, observing from a distance. Amidst the cheering and clamour, you both knew what was coming next.

When Seamus tossed the egg back to Harry, urging him to reveal the clue, you exchanged knowing glances. As he held the egg aloft and asked the crowd if they wanted him to open it, the room erupted in enthusiastic agreement. But you and your boyfriend were prepared. With a shared understanding, you plugged your ears, bracing yourselves for the inevitable shrieking noise.

Oh, you're all going to regret that.

As expected, the piercing screech from the golden egg sent everyone in the common room to their knees, hands clamped over their ears in a futile attempt to block out the noise. Amidst the chaos, Harry quickly shut the egg, bringing a momentary relief from the ear-splitting sound.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

Ron's abrupt entrance, punctuated by his exclamation, broke the tension in the room, casting a palpable awkwardness between him and Harry. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of unspoken tension, until one of the twins intervened.

"Alright, everyone, go back to your... knitting," Fred declared, breaking the spell of discomfort. "This is going to be uncomfortable enough without all you nosey sods listening in."

The crowd dispersed, giving the two friends the privacy they needed to reconcile. As Ron and Harry finally made amends, you and Wooyoung shared a smile, feeling genuinely happy for Harry. For now, at least, things were looking up. And the best part of it all was yet to come—the Yule Ball.

You and Wooyoung exchanged eager glances as McGonagall began the dance lesson to prepare everyone in Gryffindor for the ball. Dancing had always been a fun pastime for the two of you, but now, being able to do it alongside your favourite characters and in your favourite fantasy world filled you with excitement.

As the professor made poor Ron demonstrate a dance with her, eliciting stifled laughter from the onlookers, she finally called out, "Everyone, come together! Boys, on your feet!" The girls eagerly stood up, ready to dance, while the boys groaned, leaving Neville and your boyfriend as the only ones rising from their seats.

"Wow, you're really lucky," Hermione remarked from beside you as Wooyoung made his way towards you. Unlike the others who struggled to find partners, you didn't have to worry. "He's hardly ever far from your side. You both seem genuinely in love."

You nodded, offering a shy smile, "Thank you, I believe so too."

As he pulled you into his arms and started dancing alongside Neville and Ginny, Wooyoung couldn't resist asking, "So, what did Hermione say to you?" You playfully stuck your tongue out at him, teasing, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He pouted, drawing his forehead close to yours. "Please, I really would like to know," he pleaded.

You chuckled, giving in to his curiosity. "She said I was lucky to have you, and that we seemed really in love." His playful grin shifted into a sincere one. "Well, she's right about that," he admitted warmly.

You smirked, teasing him further. "To be fair, when is Hermione Granger ever wrong?"

He shrugged, conceding the point. "Hmm, I guess you're right."

The following days were filled with hilarity as you witnessed Harry and Ron's struggles to find dates for the ball. The ginger's dramatic theatrics, particularly after embarrassing himself while trying to ask Fleur Delacour, provided endless entertainment. Meanwhile, poor Harry faced rejection from Cho Chang, who had already accepted Cedric's invitation.

From your corner of the couch, you and Wooyoung snickered at their misfortunes. Eventually, they settled on asking Padma and Parvati Patil. Before you knew it, you were also preparing for the ball. Like magic, you and your boyfriend found your dream outfits in your dorm wardrobe, ready to make a grand entrance at the event.

While your boyfriend had shown you his outfit for the event, you opted to surprise him later in the evening. Inspired by Hermione's iconic entrance, you planned to arrive early and make your own grand appearance without overshadowing her.

Wooyoung waited patiently outside the Great Hall, his heart quickening at the sight of the beautifully decorated winter-themed hall. "Hey, isn't that your girl?" Cedric nudged him, directing his attention to the staircase. Following the Hufflepuff's gesture, his breath caught as he watched you descend, momentarily capturing the crowd's attention with your shy smile.

With graceful steps, you made your way down in an off-shoulder black floor-length dress, adorned with delicate gold patterns that exuded elegance and regality. Unlike others, you chose to leave your hair down, adding a touch of effortless charm to your appearance. Despite having seen you in numerous stunning gowns from Narnia and Middle-earth, you never failed to leave him awestruck with your beauty. Perhaps he was biased, but to him, you were the most captivating presence in the room. And being his favourite colour, black only enhanced your allure in his eyes.

He whispered, "I'm the luckiest man alive, I swear," and you giggled. "Stop it, you," you playfully chided as you fixed his slightly crooked bow. As you did, he gently tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and continued, "I mean it. You're the most beautiful girl here."

You nodded, leaning in to peck his lips before replying, "And you're the most handsome boy here." His cheeky grin widened, and he responded smugly, "I know."

Pulling you gently towards the hall, he said, "Let's go eat before all the dancing starts."

The night passed in a whirlwind of dancing, with Wooyoung holding you close throughout, growing protective whenever he sensed other guys eyeing you. As the event gradually wound down, you found yourselves still on the dance floor, swaying together.

Slowly, a sense of drowsiness began to wash over you. Maybe it was time to return to reality. You knew what would come next in the story, and with the impending challenges and heartaches, you weren't sure you wanted to witness it firsthand. Perhaps it was best to leave the Wizarding World on a high note, with fond memories.

You exchanged smiles with Neville and Ginny, who were also enjoying the moment nearby. Then, you sighed and rested your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling his reassuring embrace. "Woo?" you murmured.

He kissed your cheek softly. "Yes, love?"

Tightening your hold around his shoulders, you snuggled into the crook of his neck. "I'm tired... I think I'm ready to go home."

He smiled, his heart growing warm at the thought of home as he leaned his head against yours. "Me too. I guess that's enough adventure for now."

Living out his fantasies had been incredible, but perhaps he, too, was starting to feel a bit homesick and ready to return home.

He gently stroked your hair as his eyelids grew heavy. Sometimes, the allure of escaping into fantasy worlds was irresistible, offering a temporary reprieve from the challenges of reality. But as the quiet settled around, Wooyoung knew that no matter how enchanting these worlds might be, they were only temporary escapes.

The surroundings gradually quieted, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the comforting familiarity of your shared bedroom. You were nestled in his arms, peacefully asleep, and he had never felt more relieved. Drawing the covers snugly around you, he felt a deep sense of contentment settle within him.

"Home. We're home," he whispered, finally allowing himself to drift off into a restful sleep, grateful to be back where he truly belonged with you by his side.

This is as good as a compilation of some of my favourite parts from these film series. I know this might not be for everyone, but I wrote this mainly just to fulfil my own fantasies hehe.🙈

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! Are you also a fan of these AUs? Let me know in the comments! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[sugarwavelove]

Dearest older brother...?

Notes: woke up from my nap and wrote this off the top of my head. Some of this is based off my own personal experiences. Not proofread.

Content to be found: 100% PLATONIC, implied bpd and ocd if you squint, unhealthy sibling dynamics (lmk if there's more I should add)

You remember asking Sunday that question all too well. And boy, how did you regret it. 

“Is it ok if I call you… big brother now?”

You so desperately wanted to have a caring family, siblings, but younger naive you clung to the wrong brotherly figure. 

He and Robin had such a tight bond, and you, being an only child, envied them. So when you were invited to playdates, you enjoyed every second being with them. 

The fond memories of you and Sunday supporting Robin's dreams. Sneaking into the kitchen to grab snacks without getting caught. You three grew so close, you practically were their third sibling. 

But happiness doesn't last long. The more you all grew up and followed different paths, the more distant you guys became. Of course, there are still attempts to meet up, but it was difficult. Most of the time, you were left behind with Sunday, the man you called big brother. 

Could you really call him that anymore though? He made little effort to keep ties with you. Check in on you. You understand that him and Robin obviously had a closer bond. Therefore, he'd pay more attention to her, but you? It's like he was trying to erase you from his life. 

No. That's not right. He distances himself from you and lets you fall into loneliness. Yes, that's true. But then why does he keep coming back every time you're at your breaking point? 

“What's wrong? You can always tell me anything. I am your big brother, after all.” 

It's the same thing every time. 

He asks you what's wrong. You break down. He consoles you. Then leaves and the cycle repeats. And every time you refuse to talk, he'll manipulate your emotions to speak and cause you to break down even more. 

Why would a big brother do this to his younger sibling? 

You couldn't take the emotional hurt anymore. It's like he just sees this as a game. He always uses the big brother card on you knowing it's your weakness. 

Things get worse though. Of course they do. 

You caught news that Robin has been found dead. That can't be right. It can't. You loved Robin as if she were your actual sister. Why did she die?? 

So here you are. Walking to the estate where Sunday should be. Why are you even going to him? You should be distancing yourself and be grieving alone. As much as he emotionally hurts you, you still care about him. As much as he abandons you, you always come back. 

As soon as you make it through his office doors, someone aggressively grabs you by the shoulders and backs you up to the nearest wall. 

It's Sunday. 

He's shaking, breathing hard, clearly angry, but hurt above all. He rests his head on your shoulder, still holding you but with less force. 

You've never seen him like this before. In the past, you'd occasionally see tiny outbursts when he couldn't get things the way he wanted, but he never displayed this much emotion near you. 

“...Don't leave me too” he said in a shaky voice, but you couldn't catch that. All you could hear was your heartbeat from the adrenaline of suddenly being forced against a wall. 

Out of genuine care you still held for him, you embraced him. He stiffened up but soon accepted it. 

No matter how much you regretted ever calling him big brother, no matter how much it hurt when he abandoned you, you couldn't find it within your heart to leave and move on. 

Comforting him was clearly a mistake. For out of fear he'd lose his only other sibling, he imprisoned you in a spare room in his estate. 

He still had to keep up appearances so you'd constantly be left alone repeatedly. The cycle repeats itself again. He'll come back home and comfort you for leaving you alone for so long, then leave again for a long period of time. 

You'd never escape. You had so many insecurities and were so emotionally constipated. Sunday made things worse. He just had to keep you somewhere where he knew he couldn't lose track of you and possibly lose you just like Robin.

You still loved him. You always would. And he in return would offer you the type of love you never got from your actual family, even if it was just for a bit. 

To you, he was your beloved older brother no matter what.

[deadsetobsessions]

Okay I got some sleep- here’s pt. 2 of my nightmare:

——

They spoke to each other as they moved, the surroundings that had egregiously attacked the group of heroes earlier easily parted way for his sister.

‘How has everything been, habibi?’

They talked to each other in a language known only to them. The rest of the Justice League team, the members of this mission: Batman, Flash, Superman, and Zatanna did not understand the signs, a feat worthy of his sister.

‘Alright. They are not bad. I like it here.’ He told her, eyes not quite wary but fear of disappointing her running through his small frame apparent all the same. ‘I would… like to stay.’

She ruffled his hair once more, wistfulness growing in her heart. How her little brother had grown. It seemed like yesterday she held him as a babe, swaddled in even more opulent green and gold silks than her own clothing. Now, he stood in front of her, daring to express his own thoughts with a domino over his face and strength of free will in his eyes. ‘That is good. I am glad you are happy.’

Batman lurched forward to stop her from touching Damian, only to freeze as his son accepted the touch without a hint of resistance. Even Dick couldn’t get that reaction, not without some grumbling and scowling. Who was this…?

The rest of team agreed to wait and watch. Part of it was strategy. Most of it was the wonder of a such Bat-like Robin being so open with someone.

‘Have you been here before?’ Damian, relaxed as she all but gave him her blessing to stay with father, peered at the local fauna as it bowed away from her sister. She shrugged, his katana sheathed on her back. She was at ease with it as he was with her blade, the training they did to get there unwavering despite the time they spent apart.

‘Sometimes. The tower we’re headed to, I often go there to relieve stress by training with the monsters there. They like to… attack everything that moves.’

Something told Damian it was more of a one sided massacre on his sister’s part.

‘Why would the magician hide there?’

‘It would serve adequately as a natural barrier, should he have a safe space put there ahead of time.’ His sister tilted her head, masked face still in the way he knew meant that she was thinking. Her hands moved. ‘Perhaps it was Grorgiantue that attacked you. He often goes there to experiment with alchemy and demonic remains. He often wears a maroon headband.’

“That’s him.” Damian confirmed.

“Are you going to clue us into what you’re saying, you two?” The Flash zoomed around the pair, skidding to a stop in front of them. Damian’s sister simply stepped around him, slicing apart a thorn bush that attacked when it got startled by the Flash’s speed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as Robin scowled at him and the unknown ally spared him one quick, neutral glance of displeasure.

“No. Do not ask again, you eavesdropper.” Damian curtly replied, surly Robin mask back up.

“Robin.” Father reprimanded. Damian acknowledged it, but did not offer an apology. His sister remained silent and watching.

She’s relying on him to navigate these allies, Damian realized. His shoulders went back at the show of trust. He does not acquiesce to Father’s silent command. Had it been Richard… perhaps.

“Ouch, but still, if your… friend knows what’s up ahead, it’s be good to let us know.”

“We do need to take care of this as fast as possible, Robin. And we’re not the best team against magic.” Superman hovered. He would have gone and scouted ahead, but magical planes always had nasty surprises that he found extremely hard to escape.

“Speak for yourself,” Zatanna joked. Regardless, she looked askance at Damian’s sister.

Damian scowled and opened his mouth. His sister placed a hand on his shoulder and Damian sighed, readying himself to act as a translator. He knew she could sign in practically every standard sign language there was, damn it. She’s lucky he loved her enough to be a translator when she’s unwilling to socialize.

——

“Your sword,” Damian tried to hand her sword back. Her little brother, for a genius, was an idiot. She huffed, pushing the sword back.

‘Keep it. How will you cut through a magical tower without a magical sword?’ She signed to him, emphasizing her amusement.

“What about you?”

‘I must report back. I am... a bit late. I’ll see you later, habibi.’ She tapped her hand four times. A reminder that she cared about him. Before she disappeared through a swirling portal of mist grey and acrid blue, she saw him repeat the sign.

Behind her mask, she smiled.

——

“Who was that, Robin?”

Robin stared up at Batman. Damian Wayne stared up at his father.

“She... protected me.”

Not quite an answer. But it was an olive branch, to tell him who she was to Damian himself, but not who she truly was in relations to Damian.

“That’s it?”

“That is all you’re getting.” He replied, hands tightening around the hilt of his sister’s sword. Her magic hummed beneath his fingertips, the feeling of indescribable violence softening to a sense of protectiveness the moment the sword felt his presence. Damian respected Father. He might even love him. But Damian loved his sister first, and he would not betray her trust.

A new file is added to the database. Nightwing gets an update. When a familiar masked face pops up, Dick Grayson sped out of Bludhaven to interrogate his littlest brother.

And so the wheels turned.

——

“Tell me, granddaughter, what it is you truly think of me.”

Despite the conversational tone, she knew it was an order. The scars on her back burned, a reminder of another rebellion and the cost of failure.

There were many, many ways she could answer. All of them unpleasant. Yet, she must be pleasant. He must hear how she’d been broken, or else he’d keep trying to break her.

She tilted her head down, so he would not glimpse the hatred brewing in her eyes.

“I respect you, grandfather.” Because she did respect his ability to bend her at his will, for all that she hated him. It took a special kind of scum to be so cruel to one own blood. “I wish to obey your every order.” Because if she didn’t, pain would follow. But that wish was a temporary one, only in effect until she managed to kill him and come out on top.

Ra’s laughed, a warm and rich sound. Hollow, because he loved none but himself and so only reserved warmth for his own flattery. It sounded like the sharpening of a blade and it felt like balancing on a precipice. On one side, an eternity of torture. On the other, the pain of those she loved. Damian... and maybe, just a little, Talia herself.

"Do you love me, granddaughter?" He crooned, mocking and cruel, in a way one might ask a jilted lover. The reincarnation held her breath and answered. She will not lie. She can not lie, not to him. He had gouged the order into her tongue with magic and brutality. And so, she will not lie.

"No, grandfather. But I do not dislike you." The reincarnation said, soft as velvet. It was true, because what she felt for Ra's al Ghul was the cold, pervasive hatred. "I respect you."

"I see I've managed to beat some of that foolish sentimentality out of you," he said, taking a sip of his wine. Oh, how she wished she could slip poison in his cup. How she wished to make him choke on his own words, his own blood. But she could not. Not. Yet. "Alas, I can not undo the magic. I suspect you'll be serving at my feet for... quite a long time more."

She snapped her mouth closed, phantom rage hovering between her teeth. The world swirled around her, greens and purples, and the revolting touch of his hands on her.

No, she will bide her time.

She knelt, the motion familiar, on plush carpet that she could not appreciate. Luxurious cloth rustled in front of her.

And when her time comes, she will revel in Ra's al Ghul's agonizing death.

——

"Damian, you have to tell me who that is!"

Damian could be stubborn at times, he knew that. He worked with him on it. Damian was as much, if not more, Dick's Robin as he was Bruce's Robin. So why...?

"And for what reason do you wish to know her identity, Richard?"

Dick paused. He couldn't. He couldn't tell him. No one knew, except for that masked person. It happened so long ago- not long enough- and Dick could not wash the taint, could not wash the trauma from his brain, his heart. Whispers that sounded like Catalina surrounded him when he thought of that rainy night, telling him how disgusted his family would be, if they knew. Those things went away, now that he's pulled up the file on the batcomputer. The whispers fade a bit as he looked upon the masked face of the person who saved him. Just in time.

"For your safety!"

Damian crossed his arms, a look that spoke of an unbending unwillingness present in his eyes. Dick knew then that Damian would not tell him. "I will never be in danger if it's her on the other side of the blade."

"Come on, Damian, I won't tell B. Promise. Don't you trust me?"

Damian's face softened, and for a second, Dick had thought that he'd managed it. "I do... trust you." Damian struggled to say. "That is hardly ever in question, you imbecile. But to tell you would mean betrayal. And I will not betray her trust. Especially not for your personal satisfaction."

Dick wondered what this masked woman did for Damian to be unhesitatingly confident in her. He wondered if his own desperation meant something he had yet been able to put into words.

"For what it's worth, Dick, I think we should trust Damian and not pry."

Dick and Damian turned to Tim in surprise. Damian, because it was an unexpected vote of confidence.

"Woah, I do not want to hear that from you, Mr. Tiny Tot Stalker McGee."

"It's called preparation!" Tim said hotly back. Then, he subsided. "She, uh, saved me once. Back then, before I was... associated with Bruce."

"What?" Dick and Damian demanded.

——

Innocuous. The worst and best things always happened on innocuous days.

The beginning of her slavery began on a regular, if painful, sunny day.

The beginning of her freedom began on a regular, if painful, cloudy one.

She'd have to thank the little photographer later, she decided. His work all but forced her grandfather to rely on a handful of backup Lazarus pools only he, mother, and herself knew about. She stared at the green pools as her grandfather stripped to his waist to step in.

"Guard me," he commanded her as he stepped towards the pool. The sting of the command settled familiarly around her neck. “Once I am done, you will depart to force Damian or the detective back to Nanda Parbat. By any means necessary.”

It was his first time ordering her to hurt her brothers, past physical pain disguised as training.

His first mistake today.

That's the thing with her grandfather, she mused as she silently unsheathed Damian's sword. He was so complacent, that he could fathom her betrayal.

His second mistake. His last mistake.

Then again, it was her who lulled him into it, with the shows of loyalty and seemingly willing obedience outside of her magical collar's commands.

After all, he had commanded her to guard him. From outside threats, surely, but he hadn't commanded her to guard him from herself.

"You-!" He coughed as her- Damian's- blade slid in between his ribs and straight towards the other side. It missed his heart by a hair's breadth, Ra's having moved the moment he felt the blade. Truly, it was hard to beat a near-immortal's experience.

"Kill yourself!" He barked at her, clutching at his chest, trying to stumble towards the pool.

To kill herself, she had to remove the blade lodged in his chest. The magic urged her to follow his commands immediately with searing pain. But she's had over two decades to endure and adjust to it, to grit her teeth and learn how to move with the torture of being alive. So she follows it just to dislodge the blade. The reincarnation then, with the magic trying to break her, cripples Ra’s with two blows.

He collapsed, screaming bloody murder and slurs at her. Before he could say another command, she stabbed down and to the side, cutting deep enough to cut his voice box and spill his life-blood, his unceasingly irritating throat, over the craggy rocks surrounding the pool.

Then, she slit her throat with a cut that was a touch too shallow to kill her right away.

"I do not dislike you," she said, the pain easing as she spoke to him. The red she's taken from others now spilled on the front of her shirt. She stared at his enraged glare, vicious glee at making him choke on his own actions. "No, I hate you."

She bent down, twisting and breaking his arms with little effort. She patted his cheeks and raked a trail of pain down his face with her metal tipped gloves. Her blood dripped onto him, blinding his eyes.

Fitting, she'd thought. "No one will come for you, grandfather. But... I do have to ask," She looked down, voice tilting in the cruel way that he'd unintentionally taught her. "Don't you love me, grandfather?"

She walked backwards until she reached the edge of the pool. She knelt once more, a mockery of every time she's knelt for him.

The reincarnation watched his blood spill, the light leave his eyes, and the way his body stilled and the way his rage was stifled like he'd smothered her voice so long ago. She memorized it, because hate was an active emotion. But she was tired, and she wanted to rest. So she watched him die and felt nothing but peace.

Then, as she felt the magic take hold and tear her soul from her body, she tipped backwards and plunged her corpse in the glowing pits that awaited her.

——

It felt like drowning.

(did y’all know cats lay on your chest?? bro i straight up couldn’t breath bc of that)

Breathless. Corrosive. Freeing.

The Pit felt like freedom.

And she’d long forgotten what that felt like.

It tasted like shit water though, and suddenly she felt bad for everyone whoever swallowed some of the water here. She’s going to need her stomach pumped out after this-

Her thoughts were washed away in a haze of green tinted fury.

——

“Habibi.”

Nightwing slid in front of Robin with a well practiced flip. Batman emerged from the shadows, followed Spoiler and Red Robin.

“Talia. What do you want?” Batman growled. Talia ignored him, an uncharacteristic action that had the vigilantes putting their guards up.

“I… you know I would not ask this of you- I would not ask you to return,” Talia said softly.

“Then don’t.” Red Robin cut in sharply, bo staff at the ready. Talia ignored him too.

“But she needs you, habibi. I can not… I can not help her.”

“Who?” Spoiler asked, curious but ready to rumble.

“What happened?” Robin stepped around Nightwing, who made an aborted movement to try to pull Robin back behind him.

“Something terrible.” Talia al Ghul closed her eyes, a sliver of vulnerability and regret showing on her face. Robin straightened, fear thudding through his heart. What happened to ukhti, he wanted to ask. But he could not, not without betraying the promise of silence he’d made to her. “I… I have failed her greatly. And she was paying the price for it, this entire time.”

“Wait, is this about the masked woman?” Nightwing asked.

“Alright,” Robin- no, Damian- stepped forward once more. His decision was made. Had been made, the moment his mother allowed the rare instance of vulnerability to come across her face. “I’ll be going back, once…”

“Of course. She would not let me keep you, habibi. She knows you are happier here.”

“Then, let’s go.”

“Robin!” His family tried to stop him but Damian slipped between and out of their reach. “Do not!”

“I’ll be back,” he declared, like he was daring his mother to say otherwise. “Try not to raze Gotham into the ground with your incompetence.”

“I’ll kill Ra’s if something happens to him.” Red Robin pointed the bo staff at Talia as she and Damian turned to leave. He stopped an alarmed Batman when he tried to lunge for Robin.

“No need,” she threw back. Damian whipped his head up at that. “He’s already dead.”

And they disappeared into a whirling purple cloud of magic.

——

Snippets of reality return to her bit, by bit. Her mother had cautiously entered the pit with her guards- worried, no doubt, by their absence- and stilled upon seeing her father’s dead body.

She laughed, and dug her hands into the bodies of the assassins she’d trained until her nails dripped with blood and pieces of organs. She felled them, one by one, until only mother was left.

She’d attacked, like a rabid dog, until the green slipped and her mother came into focus.

“I killed him,” she’d croaked out. And that was what broke her; the smooth way air wrapped her around her throat where only ripping pain had existed. Her voice came out unhindered and recklessly so, without the tinge of agony carefully picking her sentences.

“I killed him,” she repeated, and set Ra’s al Ghul’s body on fire. “I killed him.”

Her mother stared at her, hands dropping carefully to her side. “Why?”

She smiled, teeth bared and bloody- oh, she must have ripped into an assassin with her teeth, how messy- and endlessly joyful. “Because he dared to chain me- because he threatened Damian.”

She broke, and she told her mother everything. No, not everything. Just, enough. At the end, when her back is bowed with pain and heart empty, her mother knelt before her and quietly, tremblingly, apologized.

“I am sorry, habibi. I…”

The reincarnation’s made a small, wounded noise and lost herself to the green.

——

Damian trembled with rage. With grief.

With regret.

He followed mother into the caverns, mind turning and whirling with everything he’d learned in the hour that had passed since he’d left Gotham. His sister’s inclination towards magic was incredibly helpful, but Damian wished that she had never had the cause to go delving into magic like she did.

He thought it was passion.

His mother had informed him of what Grandfather had done to his ukht all these years. She told him of what his sister had sacrificed so that he remained free.

“Every time she spoke to us, to tell us that she loves us… father had made sure she paid for every word with unceasing agony.” His mother had muttered, eyes more lost than he’d ever seen it. “The magic at her neck ensured that she obeyed unquestioningly or she paid the price.”

“She is paying the price right now,” he’d snapped at her.

“Yes.”

Damian had thought ukhti’s collection of magical tomes were a sign of her interests. He thought it was passion for a subject. He had even envied how she did not have to hide her hobby like he had to with his art.

Now, he knew it wasn’t passion. No, it was desperation; a scrambling for freedom, a wish for dignity, and the fear of the same restrictions being placed on his ukht’s loved ones- him and mother.

When he entered the cave, lit up by swirling, sickly green, he saw his ukht, drenched in blood and sclera, tearing apart another group of assassins. There were ashes and the smell of burnt flesh around them.

Her eyes- green, glazed, furious- turned towards them.

His mother tensed. His ukht lunged, pitted sword aimed at his eyeball.

But if there was anything Damian knew, it was that ukhti would never hurt him.

So he stayed still.

And she stopped. Blade a centimeter from his eyes, his sister stopped.

“Damian?”

How his heart broke when she spoke, confusion in her voice that sounded as if she had been screaming for decades and nobody had heard.

As Damian’s hand wrapped around her wrist and she dropped the sword, he morbidly thought that she might have been doing that. It’s not like they heard her, after all, not until she’d freed herself with broken fingers and steel spine.

——

Bruce paced around in the cave. With the disappearance of their youngest, the entire family gathered in the cave, the night after. Except for Barbara, who had been scouring the cameras and had prior engagements, and Cass, who was on a plane back from Hong Kong, the family watched as Bruce slowly lost his mind.

“Relax, B. Look, even Dickface and Timbers aren’t worried, and you know how they get.” Jason said, kicking his feet up on the table.

“Ahem.”

Jason quickly put his feet down.

“We know nothing about this woman! She could be a danger- she could-!”

“B, if it really is about the masked woman, I think we should give Damian some trust.” Dick spoke up.

“And what if they keep Damian captive?”

“Then we go get him, Bruce. Simple.” Duke said, yawning.

Whatever Bruce would have said next was cut off by the opening of the cave’s underground entrance, with an approving beep of a recognized and authorized entrance.

Damian stalked in, hands wrapping around the hilt of his sword like he was going to cut through the next fool who tested him. His face was in a frown.

“Damian. Are you alright?” Bruce rushed towards his youngest, only to be dodged.

“I need to break something. Then, we shall talk.”

Damian headed towards the training dummies at let out his fury. He let out his heart break. Splinters of wood and cloth and ripped padding laid testament to his grief.

Then, the younger brother of the true heir to the Demon’s Head turned around to speak to his chosen family.

——

Clarity.

Her brother, her fool, dumb brother who had just stood there as she tried to gouge his eyes out, had been exactly what she needed.

She avoided his concerned eyes as she muttered calculations under her breath.

“Ukhti, what are you doing?”

“Freedom, habibi. I am… creating my freedom.”

At his confused look, she made the signs for Pit Rage. He nodded and guarded her back.

Damian was so adorable. And now, now that there’s not collar around her neck, she could say that without awaiting internal agony!

Her mouth spoke the words she’d found all those years ago, magic flaring bright white and blue as the circle she laid down on crumbling rocks shuddered.

The magic soothed her frayed mind and seeped the poison from her mind.

——

“I have a sister.” He’d told them. He turned to his father, who had a blank look on his face. “An older sister. She is yours.”

“You fucked Talia, twice?!”

A scowl. “Keep your trap shut, Todd.”

Bruce felt his world shudder to a stop.

——

Her fingers, her left hand as her right was busy scratching absently at Damian’s head, found purchase on her back and neck. The skin wasn’t so soft anymore, time and scars making for a rougher feel.

There were worse things than death. Bitter, painful things.

Loosing her freedom. Loosing her voice.

But… there were better things than life. Sweet, gentle things.

Regaining her freedom. Getting revenge. Securing her family’s safety and freedom from the grotesque thing that wore the skin of a grandfather.

Her brother, tucked safely against her side, and a mother that finally understood.

“Come to Gotham with me,” Damian had suggested. She hummed, delighting in the way the sound came out with out the ringing pain.

But one does not erase two plus decades worth of trauma in one night.

Her hands came up.

‘Not yet. Mother will think-”

“It is a good idea.”

Her gaze darted up. Her mother’s eyes… softened. Odd. No… her gaze was heavy with guilt.

“It would… do you good to be away from here, my daughter.”

Well.

It’s not like she was opposed to that, at all, but still…

‘Two weeks. I’ll tie up loose ends… and I’ll go to Gotham in two weeks, if that’s alright with you, Damian?’

“Of course.” He leaned against her, hand clutching at her shirt in a motion that she wasn’t sure was meant to comfort himself or her. “May I tell father about you?”

Ah. She hadn’t thought of that. The pit really scattered her mind. She nodded.

——

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

“She asked me not to.”

“And since when did you do things people ask of you, demon brat?”

Damian scowled. It did not make his next sentence any less genuine.

“Since it was ukhti that asked.”

Tim spun around on his wheel chair. “Holy shit. So the masked person was your sister. No wonder you were so….”

Protective, they all finished the rest of the sentence silently. They all sat back to contemplate that Bruce had one more kid… and that Tim had met her before Damian was even born.

“So, why were you so upset, baby bird?” Dick asked, an odd feeling of both gratefulness and mild jealousy towards Damian’s sister- his savior, because holy shit- gathering underneath his heart.

“Apparently, grandfather put her under an enslavement spell all these years.”

“Damian… say that again. I- I must have heard you wrong.”

Damian closed his eyes, hating how unsteady and fearful his father sounded. He obliged, because he knew what it felt like.

“Grandfather put her under an enslavement spell and used her to further the League’s reach.”

Damian had wondered why he had encountered his sister so often while passing by grandfather’s chambers and why she always looked tired when she goes past those ornate doors.

Now he knew.

“Does that- does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes. She,” Damian’s hands gripped harshly on his forearms. He breathed in and out slowly. “She was… assaulted. Most likely regularly. To broker more favorable agreements. She could not refuse. The magic demanded complete obedience or risk the punishment of unbearable pain.”

Dick looked away. They had a lot in common. She saved him… but on her end, she was not saved. His hands itched to punch Ra’s al Ghul in the face.

“Fuck.” Stephanie cursed. Her eyes met Duke’s and Jason’s.

Tim’s hands stopped moving, eyes staring blankly at Damian. He should have tried harder to kill Ra’s al Ghul.

Bruce got up, trembling, and stalked over to the training dummy. They sat in silence.

“What else?” Bruce rasped. He hung his head.

“She was ordered not to speak a word.”

“But she… spoke to me.” Tim said. Damian felt an irrational flare of jealousy.

“Then it most likely caused her unimaginable pain as punishment.” Damian snapped.

“What do we have to do to free her?” Stephanie demanded.

“Nothing, Brown. She freed herself.”

“How?” Duke leaned in, expression serious. “Did Ra’s al Ghul free her before he died or something?”

“I… am not too sure of the details, but it involved killing him… and jumping into the pit.”

Jason stood up with a clatter. “She was in the pit?!

“Yes. I think… she might have died. I’m not… sure.”

Bruce closed his eyes, working on his breathing like Dinah had showed him.

“Is that why Talia came? Because you could stop her pit madness?”

“Yes. I- there-” Damian struggled to get the words out, the ball of upset sitting on his chest made it hard to breathe. “Ukhti would never hurt me. Unless it’s training, but even then, I am sure she fought against her orders to wound me.”

Dick nodded. Yeah. He would have too, if he were in her shoes.

“I… can ukhti come here to recover?”

“Of course. When?” It was at times like this when he appreciated his family’s sentimentality and ridiculously large hearts. Unhesitatingly kind, even when they should have been furious at him for keeping ukhti’s secrets.

“Two weeks.”

“Then we shall make adequate- no, better than adequate preparations. Master Damian, what were her preferences for food?”

——

She should probably prepare a gift. Multiple.

“Ukht.”

She tilted her head to show Damian she was listening.

“I am sorry.”

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for.’

“But-”

She squeezed his shoulder and forced the words to come out. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have noticed.”

‘I did not want you to notice. If I hid things from you, do you think you could find them so easily?’

“No, I suppose not.”

She smiled at him and tapped her hand four times. He tapped his own four times in response.

——

The dream ended there, well, no, there was actually some more nonsense about a corgi, a room full of strings and slenderman or whatever but I didn’t include that part. There’ll probably be a part three bc I kinda wanna know what happens when she comes to Gotham to recover from trauma.

The oc, relatively well adjusted: *dies*

The oc, reincarnated and got fucked over (figuratively and non consensually literally): “yes, I should go to Gotham (aka trauma central) to recover from my trauma. Sounds legit.”

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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[k4lenz]

"poor baby.." ✮ hobie brown x fem!reader

a/n: what is up!!!! this is my first fic, AND IT IS NSFW. but i've had this idea stuck in my head and it literally won't go away so basically it's hobie being gone for a while from his universe because of a mission, and his reunion with reader (his gf) when he comes home very affectionate!! reassuring, and just hobes n reader being cutesy and in love nsfw will be below the cut!!! if you like this, pls interact and my reqs r open <3 word count: 1.6k!! notes: smut, scratching, riding, fingering, praise, eye contact, heavy affection, soft turned rough, established relationship, no protection, pussy eating (hobie is a munch n nobody can change my mind), subspace, aftercare

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 Hobie was tired. Exhausted, really. Pulling his mask up in the dead of night as he slipped into his apartment through his bedroom window. Throwing it aside. He was just happy to be back in his universe after a draining mission, because it was somewhere where he could properly relax. With his beautiful girl. Speaking of his girl, you laid on his bed unstirring. Wearing one of his hoodies and wrapped up in the blankets, sleeping peacefully. He had been afraid to leave you all by yourself in this shithole of a universe for a week, but you'd reassured him that you'd be okay. He chuckled fondly to himself at the sight of your peaceful sleeping face, stripping himself out of his Spider-Suit and into a pair of sweatpants instead. You quietly stirred, eyes slightly opening and blinking awake. Sitting up with a soft gasp when you realized what, or rather who, was in your house. "Hobes!" You squealed, getting up and latching onto him the minute you recognized the silhouette of his wicks. Always excited to see him. This mission had been extra long, and you'd missed him. Hobie grinned, gently wrapping his arms around you and placing you back onto the bed. Climbing on top of you, the dark moonlight barely illuminating his face. "Ay, luv. Missed me?" You pressed a kiss to his lips, nodding with a cute little smile and eagerly looking up at him. Settling back under the covers with him. "Mhm. How'd the mission go?"

He grumbled at the thought of that mission, kissing you back before muttering. "Fuckin'ell, was a handful dolly. Miguel never fails to get on me nerves. Just satisfied to be back here with ya." You pulled him down and cuddled up to him. He cooed, realizing what you wanted. "Poor baby. Must've been s'lonely." He teased, moving so he was sitting up in the bed with his back against the headboard, and you were straddling him. He peppered kisses all over your face. You whined in response to the affection and teasing, pouting. He grinned, leaning your forehead against his own and noticing how pent up you seemed. "Awww. What is it? Use ya words, I know ya can. Got somethin' to tell me?" "Need you 'Obie." You mumbled under your breath, and his eyebrows raised. "Oh, 's that it? Sweet lil' ting, been worked up all the time 've been gone? Huh?" He gently started to pull up your hoodie over your head, he'd already noticed you hadn't worn anything underneath earlier.

He cooed as you whimpered in reply, you didn't even need to use words. His hands slowly slid up your thigh all the way to your already glistening cunt. "Christ, y'really do want me. Don't think I even need to prep you. Gettin' wet at just the sight of me now?" But he did decide to prep you anyway, finger circling your clit before gently sliding down and into you. The cool metal of his rings on his hand making you shudder, a sigh escaping you. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as your body tensed, breathing heavily against his skin. Squirming as his finger curled inside your dripping entrance. He let you adjust to being stretched out, taking it slow before adding a second finger. Listening to your shaky moans as you got overwhelmed. The sound of your noises filling the room. "Takin' me fingers so well. Knew this gorgeous pussy craved me. You were the only thing on my mind." You loved him, and this moment. Those calloused rough fingers you'd seen him use to play guitar about a million times now stroking your g-spot. You were his 'warmup' as he called it, sometimes using you before a show to get his fingers ready. His thumb came up to rub your clit again, making you squeal. You grinded your hips down, and he took that as a sign you were more then ready. Pulling you into a passionate heated kiss as he slipped his fingers out of you, to quickly pull his sweatpants and boxers down. His throbbing erection springing free, hard and already leaking with precum. The sight of it almost made you want to get on your knees. "See what 'y do to me, baby?" He nudged your legs further apart with his hand, then lined himself up. You writhed as you felt his tip press against your aching slit. He moved to gently gripped your hips, slowly sinking you down. "Ffffuck, Attagirl." You let out a soft whine, always struggling to take him because he was just so big. You swore it felt like he was impaling you, and he liked it. He left a hand on your hips, the other hand wandering up to your chin to force your doe eyes to look at who was fucking you. "Eyes on me, doll. You know the rules." He spoke sweetly, a surprise, considering most of the time it was done harshly in a destroying-your-insides kind of way. This was soft, instead. He purred when you managed to look at him and his thumb soothingly rubbed your face. Starting to slowly thrust up into you as you sputtered out a cry. "Ssshhhh, that's it. Good girl. You can do it." He reassured, as you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling to him. Wanting him to be as close as possible, the sound of your wet cunt slapping against his dick only serving to make you both more turned on. You slowly started riding him on your own, but his other hand on your hips stayed to help lift you so you wouldn't get too tired too quickly, his own hips thrusting up to meet yours as well. "Missed you s'much.." You slurred desperately and he chuckled, observing your eyes as they clouded with lust. "I know, I know you did, sweet thing. Don't worry, I gotcha." Grinding yourself down onto his cock like your life depended on it. Clawing at his back and moaning when his tip hit that perfect spot, sending shudders through your body. He let out a soft grunt, as you clenched around him like a vice. With each piston of his dick, you became more of a mindless thing. He lets out a hiss as you continue to weakly lift yourself up and down, and he decided to switch your positions. Quickly pinning you underneath him on the bed and starting a deep pace. "S alright, baby. Relax. You did so well, j'st gonna take care of you now." He whispered into your ear as you wriggled and cried out. "God, your pretty little pussy is so tight. Tryna fuckin' milk me." He kissed down your neck, both hands now gripping her waist.

Your glossed over eyes stared up at him as he pounded into you, feeling him twitch. "Good fuckin' girl. Huh? Gonna let me fill you?" He laughed as you nodded eagerly, too fucked out to form a single thought. He gave one last push, before spilling his seed deep inside you. Panting as he let his head droop against yours, his grunts and groans slowly stopping. You pouted as he pulled out, managing a soft- "Obie? What're you-" as he settled between your legs with a 'Shhh'. Quickly getting to work. You wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him imminently closer to the spot you desperately needed him. His tongue lapped at your wet heat like he was a starving man, unrelenting and desperate. Mewls quickly spilling from your mouth as your slick and his cum dripped down your slit, now mixed with his saliva. You arched your back, already close from just how quickly Hobie had gone from railing you and abusing your cervix to eating you out like nothing else mattered. His tongue, pierced, circled your clit making you practically scream. Your hands scrambled to grip the sheets tightly beside you. "Hobie!" Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you reached that climax, letting out a loud whimper. You could've sworn you were seeing stars as white hot pleasure rushed through you. As you slowly came down from the high, you mumbled gibberish, tears streaming from your eyes. Hobie quickly gave your cunt one last lick before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close, realizing you'd slipped into subspace. Pressing kisses to your sobbing face. "S alright my darlin'. You did so good for me today. So 'appy to be back wit'cha." He whispered in a soft reassuring tone, as you cuddled up to him. Craving his warmth. "I love you so much." He keened and nuzzled into your neck, showing you all the appreciation he knew you needed. He liked nothing better then seeing your little face so out of it. He gently picked you and a water bottle up and carried you to the bathroom, sitting you on the counter and grabbing a cloth. Running it under warm water as he cleaned both him and yourself off. Your lips managed to find his, and he smiled and kissed you back. Filling up the water bottle in the mean time and pressing it to your mouth. "Drink." He commanded, though it was gentle. Your boyfriend loved you, and taking care of you was always his priority. "Good. Y'want to go back to bed? 'S pretty late now." "Mhm." You replied quietly, and next thing you knew the water bottle sat on the bedside table next to you and you were wrapped up under the thick fluffy blankets and Hobie. Shutting your eyes as they drooped and silently appreciating having your Spider-Man back home.

[knavesflames]

arlecchino tying you up and eating you out 🙈🙈

Heheh done!!

Contents: cunnilingus, bound wrists, praising, reader’s a little bratty but that’s ok😈

Word count: 1313

NSFW under the cut!

You sit with a smirk, straining against the lace bound around your wrists, looking down at Arlecchino, who stares at you with a steely gaze. It’s clear she wasn’t in the mood for your bratty antics tonight.

“This lace is pretty, but it doesn’t keep me from escaping.”

A sharp tug at the lace, the fabric giving a small stinging sensation, causes a grunt to leave your lips before the smirk reappears. Arlecchino has been so busy lately with the Fatui, with project Stuzha. You feel she’s been neglecting you a little too much, so of course you resorted to the one thing she can never resist. She just loves putting you in your place, so when you sit on her lap while she’s doing paperwork, grinding yourself on her, your hand slipping through her shirt and rolling her nipples between your thumb and forefinger, she gets.. irritated. Only at the fact you manage to distract her so well. Her voice comes out as an irritated growl as her hand grabs your wrist.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

And when you wore that skimpy dress and bent down to ‘pick up a pen’, she lost it, dragging you to the bedroom. And this is where you sit now, bound by that pretty pink lace she loves so much. It makes you look so innocent, so pretty. And she loves the contrast it gives when you’re screaming her name and arching your back as you beg for more.

“Is this what you wanted, hm?”

She almost growls, planting aggressive kisses on your neck, trailing to your collarbone and then lower, her tongue flicking out against your nipple to relish in the soft sounds you make.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t know what you mean.”

Your words earn her teeth grazing your nipple, a small yelp echoing the room. Her tongue soothes the bite, swirling softly around your nipple as she hums, the vibrations of her voice travelling to your breast. The breast not occupied with her tongue is fondled by her fingers before they switch. She blows air on your now damp nipples, cooing softly, though, the words have an intent that is less innocent than she makes it sound.

“So cute. You’re so sensitive when you can’t use your hands.”

You strain once against the lace, earning a sharp, almost warning look from Arlecchino, and you know better than to be bratty now. She can be cruel when she wants to be. When she deems that your breasts have been given enough attention, her mouth travels down, kissing your stomach, and then your hip bone. Her kisses are aggressive, the occasional nibble just to prove that you’re hers, and she’s in control, not you. Your hips tilt up as her lips ghost over your pussy, not even touching it and her hand pushes them back down.

“Patience.”

She seems to be taking great enjoyment out of hearing your frustrated breaths, your desire to break free from the lace and guide her lips to where you want them most. She hooks one leg over her shoulder, biting the inside of your thighs and soothing it once again with her tongue. She’s marking you, you have no doubt about that. But you can’t move, if not for your wrists being tied, then for the way one hand is keeping your hips down, the other gripping your ankle, keeping your leg on her shoulder.

“Arl-“

“Be quiet, or do you need a gag?”

A quick shake of your head and almost a whimper.

“Good girl. You’ve been teasing me all week, don’t complain now you’re getting what you want. We go at my pace, or not at all.”

You groan in annoyance, just to be even brattier, but you nod anyway, obeying her. Her kisses go further and further up your thigh until she takes a deep breath, almost burying her nose in your pussy.

“Soaked, are you? Isn’t that sweet? So wet over simple kisses and being tied up.”

Once more, you try to buck your hips up, getting her where you want, but she moves at the last second. She’s clearly enjoying this game, enjoying your growing neediness.

“What did I just say?”

You sigh, letting your head fall back in frustration, only for it to come right back up as you gasp, feeling her tongue lick the gentlest stripe up your slit. Already a soft moan sounds out, a low chuckle coming from Arlecchino. Her two fingers, with dangerously sharp nails you’re always cautious of, gather some of the slick you’ve produced from simple teasing, before forcing your mouth open, stuffing her fingers inside.

“Taste yourself. The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

When your heavy breathing prevents you from doing anything, her fingers shove just a little further in, her voice warning you once more.

“Suck.”

And you comply, moaning on her fingers as you taste every last drop of yourself while her tongue moves around the spot you want most. Not touching it, but around.

“Good girl.”

She whispers to you, look into your eyes as her tongue finally finds its correct place, watching your reaction with silent glee. She begins lapping at your pussy, alternating between soft, gentle licks to more aggressive sucking of your puffy clit, enjoying the noises that come out of your mouth. She enjoys the squeal even more when her tongue dips inside of you, thrusting as she makes sure her nose bumps against your clit. Again and again she alternated between fucking you with her tongue and lapping at your clit, so puffy and swollen.

“You have such a pretty pussy.”

She murmurs as you strain against the lace. You’re becoming painfully aware that you *can’t move*, wanting nothing but to card your hands through her hair and keep her where she is. The urge to do what you’ve done once before, turn the tables, use her, use her tongue to grind on. Though, you’re also aware you only did that because she gave you permission. You keep straining, your mewls and grunts getting louder and louder, vibrating on her fingers. And when you gag ever so slightly on her fingers, she speaks again, removing her fingers from your mouth, taking to circling your nipple again.

“Careful, doll. Wouldn’t want you to choke before I’m done with you.”

Her words are sensual, commanding, but you know the hint of love and concern in there. It’s there, barely, she’s hiding it well. But when her tongue resumes her work, you forget all about that, your body trembling with the amount of sensation going on. Your toes curl and your pussy begins fluttering around her tongue, and she knows you’re close. And she does the one thing you both love and hate. Sliding her tongue out, and then back in, and then out again and repeat, her nose bumping your clit, giving you what you need to keep you on that edge.

“Cum for me.”

“Wanna cum all over your mouth.”

“You will. Now, be a good girl, and cum for me.”

You take the opportunity, and the fact she’s being nice for once, your eyes rolling, your back arching, and a loud, strained almost cry of pleasure leaves your lips as you cum messily all over her mouth. And god, does she love it. Her tongue laps up every drop, swirling around your clit slowly as you come down from your high as she whispers.

“Good girl. Pretty girl. Such a good fucking girl, cumming all over my mouth.”

She comes back up to your level, her tongue sliding over yours before she breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both. You smile breathlessly. You got what you wanted, and there wasn’t a punishment. That’s what you thought, anyway, until—

“You think we’re finished? Silly girl. We’ve just started.”

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| My fellow Colonel

Y’all asked for it and here it is. Whew, I wrote all of it today so here’s to hoping it is tolerably alright. Also, as an aside, I am just shy of 1k followers and that’s astounding to me. I had to rebuild this blog from scratch in December after two previous deactivations where I lost a similar amount collected over a far longer time. I’m truly so grateful for each of you who take an interest in sharing this little corner of the internet with me. Thank you, thank you!

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ with additional chapter warnings for gore and violent character death, brief mention of racial discrimination and a very dark headspace for Ida at times including brief yet crassly recollected sexual assault

April 1945, escape spoilers ahead

“Bitte.” Ida kept her hands placating, outstretched and harmless by her side, the most open expression on her face that she could summon as she stared the woman down, “Bitte nicht!”

For eleven days she and Smith and Cleven had managed to scrounge their way westward, evading recapture or altercation. But eating from the dead horses on the side of the road was out of the question, agricultural fields were churned to sludge by Amtrak’s and the small amount of wheat berries they found in one abandoned supply truck had long since ceased to fuel their weakening bodies.

They had passed by a camp, one that they observed from the shelter of the woods to be abandoned or liquidated, once used for civilian labor, judging by the signs. After a careful reconnaissance it was agreed that Ida should go and act on her hope that the commandant's empty dwelling may not have been completely ransacked. That there might be some leftover provisions either there, or in the homes of the other personnel. She had had no luck at the commandant’s, it had been empty, no luck in the next idyllic little shack either, only the eerie knickknacks of some bygone person whose vocation it was to deal in pure evil.

In the third house she had found jars of spoiled milk, tubers of some sort gone to sprouts but she did not care, she grabbed a ratty towel lying on the floor and made a sling for them. She was in the process of prying a loose floorboard up, anticipating some root cellar below when the whining creak of a sneaking step sounded behind her in the still place.

She whirled around in a crouch, half expecting either one of her companions or else one of the many starving children they encountered on the road. Instead, silhouetted inside the bright doorway there was a woman, in the uniform of a guard and with a Lugar poised at the ready. Ida felt a cold spike of fear at the flashing recollection of her last encounter with such a female, at the horrid misery that was Ravensbruck, the complete and entire lack of respect shown to her or her girls by these indoctrinated tools.

Ida’s grasp of German had been sufficient enough to keep herself and her companions away from suspicion in their occasional interactions with passersby. While she wore the heavy overcoat of a military man, it had no markings, and it was just as likely for some freezing civilian to steal it off a carcass as it was for an American female officer to be on the loose. Ida knew this and she tried to play at being dumb, pointing to the food, explaining in unstudied desperation that she was starving.

The female guard observed her coldly, her impassive face showing a certain lack of curiosity or even remote interest in Ida’s narrative that made her heart quicken with a presentment of a swift and sudden execution. She has seen these guards lift a gun, squeeze the trigger, and move on boredly all in the matter of a second. What about her own features or story were so compelling to prevent it?

“Bitte nicht!” She repeated again, choosing to take a step forward, eyeing the woman’s grip and posture, professional, soldierly, the woman left little opening for Ida to capitalize on, but she would rather get a bullet in the gut while fighting than be shot hunkering over stolen potatoes.

There was a darkening in the doorway, it caught Ida’s eye right before she timed her launch. It was Cleven. His appearance made her hesitate a moment too long. He had his arm barred around the guard’s throat in an instant but the pistol was out of his reach and one stride too far away from Ida’s grasp. Unlike the hapless children in the forest that had attacked them days ago, this officer had bullets. Ida felt the searing tear of its bite smart her shoulder, blurring her vision in pain before she rushed in, clasping her own hands around the pale wrist.

Cleven had the woman’s eyes rolling back with his grip, her grapple at his forearm growing feeble as her oxygen ran low. Another shot rang out, a bullet embedding in the ceiling rafters as Ida managed to wrench it away at last. She turned it on the woman and fired, only to find her luck run out again, as well as the chamber.

There was a knife in the guard's boot, both women seemed to think of it at the same instant as the guard became possessed with a final animated struggle to reach for it, desperate to break out of Cleven’s strangle. But Ida wasn’t about to watch another friend die, or miss her chance to go home, to bear witness to what her girls, her men, her brother were yet enduring, not to spare herself a fleeting moment of misplaced mercy. She dove for the boot, wrenched the knife free from its sheath and drove the blade in under the sternum, carving it upwards as she herself rose to her feet. Her wrist was fully in the chest cavity, arm covered with warm still living blood, by the time she saw the guard’s head loll impassively against Cleven’s chest, the soul finally gone dim behind the eyes.

“Sweet Jesus.” He stepped back from the corpse, letting go. Ida felt the weight of the body in her wrist as her grip on the knife was all that kept it standing. She tore the weapon free with another sickly gush, and blearily observed it crumple to the floor.

“There are spuds.” she told Cleven as she braced her hands on her knees, nodding to her abandoned sack of potatoes. The edges of her vision were blurring from the exertion, her coat sleeve was soaked to the elbow, but she had a weapon now and a dead Nazi at her feet. Both sat well with her.

The potatoes bought them another days walk, with Smith using the ratty towel to wrap Ida’s shoulder, it was only a flesh wound. That evening they had another run in, but this time it was with the friendly faces of gum chewing yanks who were welcoming with their smokes and their K rations. Poor infantry boys, they were bamboozled by the existence of a female officer, the experiment of integration having only added to the flyboys somewhat derisive glamor. But it was mostly awe, and a healthy amount of respect, that they showed for the blood smeared lady Colonel.

“That make you one of Brady’s Banshees?” one bright corporal made conversation with Ida as he allowed her a seat beside himself on the hood of a tank, it was a hitched ride into Belgium.

“She is Brady.” Smith drawled for her, enjoying far more than Ida how gobsmacked the man was to be in the presence of feminine greatness.

They were welcomed warmly everywhere by their fellow allies, ferried like heroes on any conveyance possible. Smith was their cheery intercessor, knowing her superiors were of so torn a spirit and conflicted of conscience as to be half inclined to go back to where they came from. In truth, Ida could hardly bring herself to board the last plane -an unbelievable courtesy taking them from Paris straight to Thorpe- as all she could think on were what repercussions might have been exacted on the others for their escape. And what cruelties she had left her brother to endure without her.

Cleven was not much better; Egan, Maureen, all of them still left behind. As they took their seats on the benches, felt the old nostalgic rumble of the engines, not of a Fort but of a Gooneybird, what should have been a lightening of spirits as they soared over the channel was instead a dismal camaraderie of guilt.

That fateful night when they had all agreed to escape before crossing the Danube, the organization had been infuriatingly chaotic yet the groups were chosen with emphatic pragmatism. The guards were used to watching certain persons in company with their favorite fellows. The Bradys, the Buckys, Smith and Murph, each had some comrade the Germans expected to be their partner in any subversive endeavor. With this in mind, their agreed-upon groups were intentionally fractured to confuse their captors, each hoping to meet up somewhere on the road or in the forest.

Cleven and Ida had waited only a few hundred yards in the tree line for over an hour, hoping to be joined by their fellows. In the end only Smith came, with the word that the gig was up, Egan had been detained, John Brady never even began to saunter off before they closed the perimeter. No more were coming. It took all of Smith’s vicious logic to keep the officers from going back, she had to lean on reminders of reprisals and certain death, how they could in no way alleviate the suffering of the others by rejoining them.

What they could do was carry through, escape, go back to England, spread the word, liberate.

Despite this inner turmoil, Ida felt like kissing the ground when her feet landed on East Anglian soil. Or, rather, the cement of the old familiar runway. Instead she settled for Crosby‘s cheeks, the beaming fellow being so utterly honest in his welcome that some tiny part of her melted in momentary relief at having actually made it. That hadn’t really sunk in, not until there was an English mist pelting her face and Harry’s crinkled cheeks between her hands.

“A major?!” she repeated his rank and felt prouder than his mother in that moment while Harry blushed scarlet under the affirmation.

“A-and a father.” tumbled out of his mouth as a deflection except, that subject made a great hullabaloo too, with even Cleven growing exuberant in his congratulatory shoulder slapping. “What am I doing makin’ you stand out here, get in the jeep sirs, I’ll take you to a hut, or-or the club? Or the doctor?”

Both Ida and Cleven stiffened in their swing into the jeep at the last suggestion, a brittle defensiveness tightening their smiles, “Bed and board are all we need, thanks Crosby.” Gale gave him one of those devastatingly final little nods of his.

They kept him occupied and rambling on the ride, updates on new crews, new buildings, Jeffreys, Meatball, the improvement of rations, tales of bombing Berlin, the prospect of victory within reach. By the time he’d parked outside Cleven’s old barracks, Harry knew next to nothing about their own experiences, and he felt that somehow to have been quite calculated.

“There’s still a ladies sector, Colonel,” Harry assured Ida, much to her confusion as to why there wouldn’t be, “I’ll take you and Smith there.”

The old hut was as she remembered it, same as all the others, curved metal amplifying the patter of rain and the monotonous comfort of Air Force regulated bunking. It hit then, no more wooden combines or roadside shelters. She was really back.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Smith asked, the place eerily quiet, even for midday.

“There at- there at work.” Crosby offered haltingly.

Suspecting something dreadful, or as Bucky liked to say of her instincts -sniffing out bullshit- Ida slowly turned to Crosby and gave him a stare, one she recalled having once effectively shrank the man by a few literal inches. Perhaps because it was remarkably similar to her brother’s. Harry bore up under it better now, oak leaf cluster on his breast or a hard three years adding some spine to him, she didn’t know, but still his expression wavered guiltily.

“At work?” she repeated his phrasing, “That what the kids call war these days?”

“A few, a couple, -some,” he settled on, “are on missions. We’ve been uh, we’ve been running a lot of missions. Picking up prisoners -like you guys.”

“The rest?”

“At work.”

“Where’s this work?”

“Uh, well, various posts, you know how it is-“

“-grounded?” She supplied.

“Well, yeah. Just like Douglass and me and-“

“They badly hurt? Who’re we talking about?”

“Colonel,” Harry begged her, looking mildly close to drowning on dry land and sending a wet eyed sos at Smith, “dozens of them are posted here. Grounded yes, but, in good positions, required positions-“

“Did they get corresponding promotions?” Ida hit back, “Were they grounded because they were too valuable or were they hurt? Or did they just get squirreled away in some cupboard with a typewriter?”

“Look, uh, sir,” Harry chuckled nervously, “a lot of them are on missions, some of them are at their jobs -where I should be right now. But, it’s true, uh, the brass thought that, well they weren’t sure, Ida, when we got word you’d escaped we wanted to welcome you back right and uh, we didn’t know what to expect. We’ve had a lot of reports. Some reassuring and a lot…not. Not reassuring at all. And uh, we didn’t know what to expect, they didn’t know and uh, depending on how you were, it could affect the morale. So they thought, clear the place out a little, yeah? Make sure you were -you were…”

“Didn’t wanna scare the kids.” Ida supplied, tone softened, suspecting she probably did look half witch from all her trials.

“We didn’t know what to expect.” Harry repeated, a significant amount of relief bleeding into his voice, like he was going to get choked up on her mere continued existence.

“Well I need a change of clothes, and I need a shower.” Ida smiled at him until he gave her a fastidious look while glancing at her blood stained coat and she sent him a sour glare in return, “And a nap. And then I dare say nothing about me will be cause for alarm, not even for general LeMay.”

Harry was back to chuckling nervously as he walked his way backwards out the hut. “Of course, yeah, uh, we tried to supply uniforms, laid them out -best we could scrounge, for now.”

“Thanks Croz.” Smith offered, trying to soften the ending of this interaction.

“Before you go,” Ida stalled him, “tell me a little about the new ones? Who should I know? What should I know? Hate to wake up in here and have to start making acquaintances from scratch.”

“Colonel,” Harry answered her in the most mournful voice, “there aren’t any new ones.”

That old whiff of cold dread was back. “Crosby.”

“They uh, after you went down, colonel they, they scrapped the program.”

“You cannot be-“ Ida rubbed at her throat, trying to get it to open up, wondering what the hell it must be like to be Gale Cleven and get to come back to Thorpe Abotts and nothing be different, get to be home and get to find everything where it should be because your own higher ups aren’t fighting against you right along with the bastards with the flak and the barbed wire and the endless taunts about women being made for breeding. “Crosby what do you mean scrapped? They shut it down?” she wished she sounded angry, but she knew it was a cry, and to his credit he looked ready to cry for her.

“Colonel I’m so sorry, the reports were so alarming and the-“ he shook his head, “-they grounded all female servicemen right after. Cut the program, if it wasn’t for Kidd they might’ve sent them all back, discharged or moved to the WASPS. Well, they stayed, but, it’s not- it’s not what it was, colonel.”

Ida bit her lip, that old throbbing pain from the old injury of her cheek bloomed again, it felt like arriving at the stalag in one too many ways. “Y-you said something about, you said some were up on missions.” She wracked her brain for it and found it, that one bit of hope and she clung to it like a woman drowning.

“Yeah!” Crosby was over eager to soothe the pain with the modicum of good news he had, “They are! Rosenthal he uh, he’s over the squadrons now and uh, he’s seen to it they are allowed up. Mostly uh, mercy runs or behind allied lines, they don’t want anyone captured but, they’re up. They’re getting their thirty missions. They’ve uh, they’ve changed the number, since you were here.”

“Thirty.” she repeated numbly.

Harry’s footsteps had long ago receded along the gravel outside by the time Ida allowed herself enough movement to sink atop the pristinely made bed in her filthy clothes and just stare at the opposite bunk of equally pristine sheets and all of it so pristine and so rigorous and so proud and so pristine and so-

The echo of her own scream startled her, banging off the tin walls and circling back to her. Ida felt more than saw the implacable Tallulah Smith jump in fright beside her, but that level headed woman knew better than to soothe her officer. Not after what they’d just learned. She bit her tongue and busied herself sorting amongst the clothes and provisions for towels, combs, soap, toothbrushes. Ida watched this rich display of care on the part of their fellows with a snarl bending her lip, she could taste salt and knew she was also crying and all that she could hear amongst the cacophony in her head was a desperate wail -she didn’t want combs and towels, she wanted her squadron back.

Some aspect of this heartbroken petulance must’ve shown on her face as Smith extended both a comb and towel to her with forceful kindness, “LeMay didn’t lay these out.” was all she commented. “Think of it as Harry’s hospitality. You look a mess, and won’t get any respect for it.”

Smith had some vantage point from which to speak, Ida knew. Native American with bronzed skin just shy of being segregated twice over, getting screwed over was something Smith had made into an art form of cat and mouse. Ida had long admiringly observed it; she never thought she’d need to adopt a similar posture to this degree. Not when she felt like grabbing at the knife still in her trench coat pocket and making a charming scene and all it would get her was confirmation of the reports.

Whatever those were. Alarming reports, apparently. It was so very upper brass of them all to find the enemy’s methods unfortunate and so shoot themselves in the foot like it evened things out.

“I’ll be along in a minute.” Ida insisted to Smith from her bunk, refusing more than the towel and comb.

They’d all been through hell for daring to be combatants. But Ida, at this news of her loss, was beginning to recall particular parts of her own hell she had not dwelt on since they occurred.

Colonel -the way each had called her that, sneering at the mere concept of a colonel with a cunt, an officer so easily breached, a leader made by her Creator to be bent over and taken. She’d had a squadron then, and no amount of scorn or cruelty could take that from her; no, only her friends could take that away.

And they had.

Robert Rosenthal was giving himself a little pump up speech as he stalled outside with his hand on the door knob, knowing he needed to knock first and that knocking would buy him a little more time to ready himself, and so he really should go ahead and knock. The pattering drizzle on his hat brim should have been human incentive enough to get inside already, if duty and honor and admiration weren’t quite cutting it today. But he stalled, even went so far as to cast an indefensibly juvenile and furtive glance over his shoulder at the shrinking form of the accommodating lady who’d passed him on his march here. A Lieutenant Smith, who had told him she was glad to be back and that her famed superior was still inside-

“Angry as God after catching the Israelites worshiping cows at Mount Carmel.”

Rosenthal knew Ida Brady had every reason to be utterly furious, hell -he was furious for her, with her, about her. And he had no right to stand there and wish she wouldn’t take it out on him, to defend himself with shitty excuses like the fact a few of the girls got to see the top of clouds because he had put his shiny and promoted boot down and asked for it. He wasn’t exactly the problem, perhaps, but he was, by sheer implication of it being men like him unable to require better treatment, at fault. And so, Rosie stood in the drizzle and gave himself one last minute to think about Colonel Ida Brady as she had been the last time he’d seen her, terrifyingly formidable and utterly kind.

“It’s no worse than your dread of it, I swear.” she had told him and Nash that night before their first time up, “I was relieved to have seen it.”

What had she seen since? He stared at the little leather binder in his hand and scoffed at the administrative mission that carried him here. To hell with it. He knocked, he waited, he knocked once more, and he went in.

The stipple of rain on the roof of an empty Nissen hut was a calming background noise he himself savored whenever possible. Despite their bare aesthetic and extreme practicality, there was a serenity to them as well, and on spotting a seated figure a few bunks down from the entrance, he felt a pang of empathy for the desire to just decompress.

She looked up at the sound of his footfalls, not startled in the least. Not angry. In fact, she looked utterly dazed, like the men he’d helped out of their forts after a bad run of it. A face he’d seen in the mirror once or twice or a couple dozen. There was a docile listlessness in her gaze that he knew better than to be comforted by, despite the selfish feeling of relief at not immediately being eviscerated about her squadron. She was gaunt, understandably so, her strong jaw so pronounced he could cut his thumb on it, the pallor of her skin jarred unsettlingly with her dark brows, set off in stark relief by her tangled, jet black hair. Her overcoat was half muddy brown, half doleful rust. There was a bloody story there, a recent one, not washed away by a hard rain or bath. Rosenthal didn’t have any doubt how that struggle had ended for her assailant: she was here, wasn’t she?

He’d never seen anything more magnificent in all his life than this battered figure sat on a pristine cot with dawning recognition in her eyes.

“Welcome back, Colonel!” he ventured, keeping his tone soft as befitted the setting, yet unable to keep the creeping happiness at her return from showing in his voice.

“Mm, yes. Rosenthal.” Ida was straightening automatically, rising from her seat, shrugging off her clumsy overcoat and standing near to attention at sight of the brass on his lapel, “I remember you. A Colonel now, I see. Well done.”

Rosie felt his cheeks burn, another juvenile thing, her hand extended itself to his surprise and he clasped it warmly, maybe a little too firmly. “Well that’s kind of you, Ma’am. Very kind. Welcome back, Colonel.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Apologies.” he stumbled, releasing her hand in hopes of regaining his thoughts. She didn’t look angry yet, she looked wary, “Just glad to have you back. There was…a lotta concern.”

“It was touch and go but -here I am.”

“Right.” There was silence after that, it was so thick that the quirk of his kind lips and the gleam of his eager eyes slowly dimmed and fell as no small talk resumed. “Uh, colonel,” he ventured, “due to those aforementioned concerns, uh, I’ve been asked-“

“Aforementioned? What kind of talk is that?”

“Ha, well, lawyerly talk I’m afraid. I need to get a report from you, colonel.”

“For God’s sake man, I just got here, maybe with a shower and a nap and a cup of joe I might have a report for you but- I just got here.”

“Yes.” he refused to wince, he refused to. He was a colonel now, he had to require unpleasant things every day from his friends. Today it was required from a hero. Small difference in a war. “And if it were up to me I’d give you weeks to do all that before asking a thing from you. But I can’t, colonel. They wanted an immediate, preliminary report. It’s -it’s the same as an integration after a mission. Less interaction beforehand, less time to confuse the details- you get my drift.”

“You’re under orders.”

“I am.”

“Why didn’t you say? God’s sake Rosenthal.” she was close to angry now.

“Sorry, ok, Colonel I-“

“Why the whole welcoming committee schtik? Just say what you mean.”

“It’s not a schtick, Ma’am,” he insited, heatedly, “it’s a genuine honor to have you back with us and a relief to see you safe. And yes, I have orders to get a preliminary report.”

“In future you can save us both precious minutes of our lives by being this forthright, please?”

“Understood.”

“Right, well. What’s wanted? What kind of report?” He didn’t fail to notice the sudden and very studied nonchalance that took over her gait, the way she leaned against the railing of her footboard, almost a slouch that made the lean line of her look entirely unperturbed. He wasn’t a good lawyer out of naïveté about such posturing. She was braced like hell for this, probably worse than he was.

“On uh, on your general treatment. Ma’am.” he decided to summarize it thusly.

“Well Colonel,” he had forgotten what a nice voice she had, it wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t gruff, it was simply nice, “if Gale Cleven’s under eyes didn’t tell you the food was meager and hardly nutritious, I’ll go on record to say so. But they did try, I think I can give them that. Looked like everyone was starving by the end.”

“Conduct of your guards?” he had his stupid little leather case open on his forearm and the not quite soggy notepad in it was being dutifully filled with scribbles.

“I’ve little to say against the Luftwaffe, they were honorable for the most part. I think you’ll get that same report from the others. There were a few incidents, but we were enemies. To be expected.”

“Right, uh,” the pencil drug a little “this is a general report so I’ll spare an inquiry into those incidents.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else?” Ida tried to smooth her face, she really did.

“Colonel -yes.” she watched him as he deliberated for a moment before seeming to recall her scathing admonition of before, and carried on resolutely in the bluntest manner he could summon, “Regarding your prolonged detention before the stalag. It’s our understanding you were not always under Luftwaffe jurisdiction?”

“That’s correct. Combatant status was not recognized for four and a half weeks.” Ida gave a clipped nod. “We were even briefly detained at a concentration camp.”

“I can’t imagine what you must’ve seen there.”

Ida stared back with some slight emotion flitting over her mask-like face at long last and Rosie felt maybe his own showed it, too, “From what I’ve heard, we may be the only ones to have left alive.” she said at last.

“Your testimony, what you saw there, it could become-“ Rosie drew in breath, “-invaluable.”

“I’d do anything to see justice done, Major.” she agreed, “Sometimes I think I dreamed such mass cruelty. Seems too large to be real, too awful to be abetted for so long by so many.”

“I saw what was left of one of the smaller camps. In Poland.”

“Mm, so you can imagine.” she retorted, but it was a kind retort.

“I don’t see much else when I close my eyes.”

“Mm.”

“Right, back to this uh, report, the question is, how were you treated before civilian status was adhered to?”

“Is this a personal report or a general one?” Ida inquired suddenly.

“The assignment was to ask about your own observations as senior officer of the female contingent of-“

“-then in that case, the treatment was barbaric, Major Rosenthal.” Ida informed him forcefully, “The Luftwaffe used plenty of rough tactics and one officer was particularly cruel to Cleven. I was informed my brother was dying and that my obstinance in denying giving them information was prolonging his torment. All of that I was prepared for, it was one soldier’s attempt to break another. The gestapo, on the other hand, were beasts. And the SS -sadists. They dealt in cruelty for the pleasure of it and my girls went through hell. Once in the stalag there was a reprieve. Then the Luftwaffe were relieved of command and it began again- if you expect details, come back with a larger notepad.”

Rosie gave a curt nod of his own in understanding, his brow creased at the implication.

“No one wants to see justice done for them more than I.” Ida went on, “But they’re still out there, and I’m here. And I-I don’t know that those are my stories to tell, Colonel. What I saw is plenty enough to hang a village. And it wasn’t just toward my girls.”

“At…at a later point, you’d be willing then?” he ventured, softly, no longer professional, “To tell me what you saw?”

“Larger notebook, Rosenthal.”

“Yes ma’am.” he knew a dismissal when he heard one, he even felt a brief and heinous relief at the prospect of slipping away on a high note. The dreaded scrapping of the program still undiscussed. “I’ll uh, leave ya to that shower.”

“It’s good to be back, Colonel.” she called to him while he was still maneuvering through a somewhat meandering exit, she called out this concession as if it were meant only in regards to him, “Like what you’ve done with the place.”

Well now that was -that was kind and that was unexpected and Colonel Robert Rosenthal may have let the door hit him on the way out.

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[flight0fthenavigat0r]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

[royaltozaki]

hickeys and swimsuits

sana x fem!reader - trailer ▸ part 1 ▸ part 2

synposis: day 3 on the set of the bachelorette and y/n has to deal with sleeping with her best friend, a messy group date, and a tender evening.

warnings: teensy bit of smut (a quickie in the bathroom), allude to sexual harassment

w/c: 7.7k

a/n: can you tell i dislike suju? you’ll probably be able to after this LOL

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the decision to leave or stay if you’re the first one awake after a one night stand will always be unnecessarily difficult. luckily, or maybe not depending on how you look at it, sana’s grip on you would not allow for you to escape anytime soon so you let yourself be held, your head resting on top of hers, arms thrown lazily over her side.

you’re not really sure what came over you last night. after she had kissed you, you felt a need to finish what she started. you didn’t regret it though, but you were still yet to unentangle your feelings for her and what this meant for the both of you. if it even meant anything at all, it would be easy to brush it off as a spur of the moment decision built on pent up anger and lust from being untouched for so long. at least for you anyway, you weren’t sure when the last time sana slept with someone was, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it was with jihyo, she wasn’t really one for sleeping with people without knowing them first. but maybe you were wrong, you were learning so much more about her in these last two days than you have in years of knowing her.

you’re a little unnerved thinking about the amount of people sana has slept with. taking slight satisfaction in the purple marks that littered her neck, and the rest of her body knowing that you were the reason for them.

sana’s eyes slowly flutter open as you’re tracing one of these marks and she yawns, stretching with an adorable mewl and collapsing back into you.

“mmorning.” she mumbles into your chest, voice deep and laden with sleep and you can’t help but find it unbelievably attractive.

you brush your fingers through her hair, sorting through her knots. “morning…”

you lie there for a few moments, daring each other to speak first.

she’s the one who breaks the silence, always the one with more initiative, proven last night by kissing you first, “so……… should we talk about this?”

you hum, “if you’re ready for it.”

she whines against you, lightly hitting your chest, “stop that. i wanna know what you think without deflecting to me.”

you chuckle, “sorry, but yeah it’d probably be good to talk about it. i guess we can start with, um… well did you… regret it?” you can’t help the way your heart rate picks up, maybe you weren’t really ready to brush this off as a one time thing after all.

she places a hand over your chest, right where your heart would be, looking up at you with those eyes that you could drown in, “no. i don’t regret it. do you?”

you smile at her, thankful for the reassurance she offers, “no, i don’t either.”

she smiles back at you, her fingers drumming lightly over your heart, “is this… like… what does this mean for us? because i don’t want anything to change between us, i care about you too much to lose you as my best friend.”

you frown, “i care about you too… i mean… i don’t really know, like you’re still the bachelorette of the country right now like… how do you feel about that?”

“i’m enjoying getting to know these people. some of them really do have potential i think. this timing just kinda sucks huh?”

your heart drops a little at her honesty. you start thinking maybe its time to be a little honest to yourself.

“it does but that doesn’t mean i wanna just ignore this happened sana. i don’t think…” you sigh, thoughts all muddled and on the tip of your tongue.

her hand is trailing patterns up and down your bare back, looking at you with wide eyes. you would do anything to keep that face happy.

“you’re right. the timing does kinda suck. i guess we can just… keep this casual? assuming you want this to happen again?”

she nods, but an expression washes over her face that you can’t really decipher. “alright. casual. we can do that. just like, when we need a little stress relief or whatever.”

you nod, “and it’s just temporary until like you find your person here. wouldn’t want you to be sexually frustrated or pent up or anything and make decisions based on who you wanna fuck most right?”

“right! so you’re doing me an even bigger favour right now!”

“yep!”

you’re both laying there awkward now, talking in circles convincing yourself this was a good idea.

a loud knock comes at the door, and you’re both jumping, splitting to opposite sides of the bed. you look at each other a little awkwardly, you let out a small chuckle before getting up and pulling some clothes on haphazardly and answering the door.

it's one of the costume designers, "oh! y/n! sorry i didn't know you were in there, is sana around? it's time to get changed and start the filming for today."

you hum and let the woman in with her entourage of makeup and hair stylists.

but then one of the makeup artists quickly gasps as sana reveals her neck.

you turn around and blush, sana's still naked as the day she was born, there was no reason to put on clothes when she was going to get changed into new ones anyway, her blanket falling to her waist exposing the carnage that was the evidence of last night's activities.

the people in the room look awkwardly between the two of you, and you clear your throat and walk out, giving them some privacy, your head bowed and beet red as you make your way to the kitchen.

you dimly heard some scolding from the makeup artists, but thankfully no one came after you to tell you off or anything. hopefully the design team could keep this little secret under wraps, although you could hear the gossip and rumours going around already. you'd have to be more careful going forward.

sana's got an individual date first on the schedule today. so you decide to head over to the contestants' living area after you finish your breakfast and get dressed.

the drive over is short and you enjoy the light breeze from the slightly open window. you remember the slip of paper miyeon slipped you last night, pulling it out of your pocket and typing the digits into your phone.

you're not sure what the first message you should send her is. you're hit with the sudden realisation that outside of this show she was a literal model, she probably had thousands of followers and a life of her own with friends far above your social standing.

but she wouldn't give you her number only for you to discard it right? whatever, this wasn't anything to overthink, and you wanted to check in on how miyeon was doing anyway, you quickly type out a message and hit send.

y/n: hi this is y/n - how are you? settling back in at home okay? lmk if u ever want a chat or anything i'm here <3

you're surprised at her quick reply.

miyeon: hi y/n! it's good to hear from you. yeah honestly had the best night's sleep in so long, living in the mansion with all the others is fine and all but sharing rooms with sanghee was so not. that girl did not know how to clean up after herself and had the worst sleep schedule

you laugh a little at her antics.

y/n: right forgot you were kinda prissy. dunno if i feel bad for sanghee or you

miyeon: hey!!! i am NOT prissy! idc what ppl say abt beauty sleep and whatnot but you DO need it! proper quality sleep has been proven to improve skin, regulate emotions, and keep your brain sharp! it's a really important part of the day!

y/n: yeah yeah yeah i'm rolling my eyes btw since you can't see. but im glad ur feeling better rested miyeon, its gonna be real weird without you here now

miyeon: hey u got this. and im only a text or call away if u want a break from everything going on inside, ik how crazy it gets in there so having some outside perspective can be good for you

y/n: and im really grateful for that. thankyou miyeon <3 r u gonna watch the screening of last night's ep later?

miyeon: u mean do i wanna watch myself get eliminated? i think ill pass on that thx 😂 but the contestants always watch it tgt if u wanna join them - good to have some ppl to watch along with especially since its pretty jarring seeing everyone on the big screen and how things r all edited tgt. and seeing sana may come as a shock to u too u never know

y/n: yeah ur right im actually headed there rn since sana's going on a solo date and i have nothing better to do soo... also oopsies spoiler alert but ur not gonna leak anything to the media right ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

miyeon: who knows... call me prissy one more time and ur name's gonna be on the national headlines tmr fr ;P

y/n: u wouldnt!

miyeon: i would. jks ofc i wouldn't but since ur going to the mansion anyway make sure to talk to shindong and siwon and their whole boys club. now that im out i can give u all the inside goss and if sana ends up with one of those dicks well...

y/n: oo tyty ill be sure to keep that in mind

miyeon: ofc y/n rmbr anything u need we're friends yeah? don't be a stranger :)

y/n: thanks miyeon i rly do appreciate it! talk later :))

you turn off your phone, happy that miyeon was just as receptive and positive in the real world as she was when you were together. you had nothing to worry about after all.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the house is in complete mayhem as you step inside. apparently someone had accidentally set off the fire alarms so everyone was already up and about and still mopping up wet patches here and there.

you spot jacky and eunji in the kitchen and make a beeline for them.

“-if you had just kept your pants on!-“

“no don’t blame this on me you know very well that i need to air dry or i’m gonna get sick and i won’t be able to perform-“

you clear your throat interrupting their… certainly intriguing conversation.

“y/n! please tell eunji it is perfectly normal to air dry after a shower.”

“not when you’re living with 15 other people!”

“i’ve lived with more than that back home and they didn’t have a problem with it!”

“because you australians are always half naked for some reason or another anyway. but you can't pull that shit here!”

jacky rolls his eyes and goes back to flipping the eggs he’s got in a pan, no doubt making lunch for the them and the rest of the contestants.

“have you eaten yet y/n? there was a bit of an accident this morning so the kitchen’s been off limits until now.”

“oh yeah i ate before i came here, thanks though. how are you guys today?”

they share a glance, “i think you’re the one who should be answering that question. heard sana made you go home after the stunt you pulled last night.”

with everything that happened you’d almost forgotten how the night actually ended for most of the other contestants.

“oh right!" you laugh a little awkwardly, "we made up so everything’s all good now. i’ll probably be laying off the alcohol for the rest of these rose ceremonies though…”

“awwwh but you’re the only one who can keep up with me! all the other guys here tap out soo early and none of the girls want to drink.”

you laugh, grabbing some plates to help jacky and eunji plate up the food they’ve prepared.

jacky’s yelling at everyone to come get their food and you follow along, greeting everyone and moving towards the couch where they were setting up to watch last night’s episode of the bachelorette along with the rest of the country. it was being aired earlier in the day today because it was the weekends and the highest stream counts for the weekends would be at this time.

you slot yourself in next to jiwon who offers a kind smile, the complete opposite of the stink eye you feel heechul giving the back of your head after you’d essentially tried to get him eliminated last night.

jun is setting up the tv and when everything’s ready he rushes back over and plops himself down on the other side of you, throwing an arm over your shoulder in a friendly greeting and looking back to heechul and the boys club as miyeon called them, flipping them off with a tongue sticking out in defense of you. you laugh with him as heechul sputters and the episode starts playing.

most of it you had already seen, although you got to hear a bit more of sana and jiwon’s conversation during the childcare group date after you’d left, as well as her conversations with the other contestants on that date. she seemed to get along with everyone there, and the kids were a good conversation sparker, sana had picked a good bunch for the first group date. the camera spent most of its time following her around as you’d expect, but it included a couple comedic clips of the others being terrible with kids. you’re all laughing and teasing each other when you see dae fall into a pit of mud after a purposeful ploy from the kids, and aww and coo when jiwon finally lies them all to rest during their afternoon nap.

the episode also includes a few cuts to the contestants in the mansion, the ones who weren't picked for the group date, so you get to see a little of how they function as a house as well.

then comes the solo date.

everyone's a little curious at what wonsik did to woo sana to get him that first impression rose from the first night. he's still just as shy and awkward as you remember from your first few interactions with him on the first night, not that that isn't what sana likes, she just usually goes for the louder, boisterous types, especially on a first impression since those are the ones that draw people's attention around them.

the date was just as extravagant as the producers said it would be. they definitely spared no expense, and from the stats you overheard them talking about, this season of the bachelorette was definitely hyping up to be the most successful season so far, it had even gained international attention for its unique approach.

after sana and wonsik's helicopter ride overlooking the valley, they were situated in a beautiful dip in the valley, overlooking lush green fields with a soft breeze and the sunset in the background.

admittedly it was cute watching them play board games and feed each other small fruits, and apparently wonsik was a much better conversationalist when he was in one-on-one situations, even cracking a few jokes that had you and the rest of the watchers laughing.

you couldn't help the pit of jealousy growing in your stomach though. you could finally realise what it was and call it jealousy but it was probably just because you were more involved with sana than ever now and you weren't good with the whole non-exclusive thing. it would take some time getting used to for sure.

but your jaw clenches when suddenly, screen-wonsik is kissing sana.

everyone in the room starts whooping and clapping wonsik on the back. you can hear the mc voice-over talking about how this was the first kiss of the season and that wonsik was a lucky guy to be getting in so early but you drown everything out as you watch the camera zoom in romantically, hyperfixated on the way sana's lips reacted against his.

he's got a hand at her waist, shuffling in closer and she has a hand carding into his hair, your eye twitches when you think you see a hint of a pink tongue dipping in.

he's laying her down and crawling on top of her on the picnic mat and it feels way too intimate for national television and you couldn't hear the sounds she could be making but you sure as hell can imagine the soft whimpers and gasps because she was making those sounds for you just hours after what was happening on the screen right now.

finally the camera pans away to a long shot of the two of them against the backdrop of the sunset and the valley and cuts to another scene of the mansion contestants but the liplock seemed to never end, even after the camera stopped shooting.

wonsik looks terribly embarassed when you turn to where all the commotion is behind you, people congratulating him on how his date went, asking for any more details that the editing could have left out, some looking on in jealousy, and some looking a little sad.

everyone's attention is shifted however when momo walks in through the door, back from her solo date with sana this morning.

all of a sudden, people are rushing towards her, asking how her date went, what they did, whether or not they kissed, poor momo looks very overwhelmed but she's not entirely focused, looking behind her and smiling.

and then again, the attention shifts, sana walking in with a bright smile, in casual clothes and jeans, waving a bright greeting at everyone.

you're still sat exactly where you are, emotions festering up inside of you.

"wow it's crazy to be here during the day! hey guys! just dropping off momo and checking in on how everyone's doing."

the excitement of the morning culminates, and its almost like a rose ceremony again, with everyone vying for sana's attention, wanting to show her around, leading her out towards the gardens, talking and chattering eagerly.

eventually, you're left inside with momo, who offers a polite wave, sitting down across from you, wonsik, who was too shy to join everyone on the tour of the house, and heechul, siwon, shindong, and seungri, the 'boys club'.

seungri's laughing boisterously, congratulating wonsik on his date with sana.

"congrats man. wouldn't have known you had it in you. did you guys get up to anything else?" he's wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. you're disgusted.

"n-no. she pushed me off pretty much as soon as the camera cut away."

"aww really? cockblock much?" shindong's snickering along.

heechul's shuffling a little closer to momo, "how about you momo? how was your date? you didn't miss that much by the way, wonsik and sana kissed yesterday on the date, that's when you walked in." he tries to offer her a kind smile, but you notice the way she's cringing, moving a little closer towards you.

"it was good. we went to a dog shelter which was really sweet of her since she knows i love them and i've been missing my two dogs back home. even had my allergy meds ready because i didn't know what we'd be doing today, shows she really listens."

you smile at momo's response, glad to hear their date went well and your heart warming learning about sana's actions.

the boys had stopped listening halfway through, going back to teasing wonsik so it was really just you and momo talking.

"yeah we also got to talking a lot since we're both from japan and all. it was really nice to be with someone who understood what it felt like to move here and be homesick, it was also the first time in a long time that i had spoken to someone in japanese that wasn't my family so it was pretty funny, well at least for her, to watch me make an absolute fool of myself stumbling over basic words and phrases."

you're laughing, knowing how much sana cares about her heritage, you were glad momo was here to be able to share that with her, you were firsthand witness to some of sana's homesickness bouts and you knew having a sense of a home away from home was extremely valuable.

"oh?" heechul butts into the conversation again, "nico nico nii~! momo-chan wa onii-chan de yonde mo ii-yo~" (t: momo you can call me big brother)

you and momo both stare at heechul for a few seconds in silence, trying to decipher what the fuck you just saw with your bare eyes, before bursting into laughter.

he looks confused, breaking his cutesy character pose and pouting and whining, "what! did i say it wrong?"

you're wiping tears off the side of your eyes, "what the fuck kinda hentai have you been watching to learn that shit heechul-"

momo's still laughing, her nose scrunching cutely, "no like! i get the nico thing like that was huge in japan like in 2015- still weird as fuck to see a grown man doing it ten years later though-"

you're both laughing between words, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the house who are rounding out back towards the living room after finishing the house tour.

sana looks curious as she's led over, "momoring, what's so funny?"

momo's turning and grinning at the sight of sana, pulling on her arm and leading her in front of heechul, "heechul do it again! for sana pleaseeeee-" she turns on the extra charm, hitting him with a final, "onegai~?" and you could see the imaginary nosebleed he gets from the action, the type that's edited into animes.

so he puts his hands up, fingers placed in the signature nico position, "nico nico nii~! sana-chan wa onii-chan de yonde mo ii-yo~"

the repeat of his absolutely embarrassing gesture sends both you and momo into another fit of laughter, clutching onto each other in weakness.

sana's face goes red and she looks to be supressing her own laughter, but she gives in eventually, letting out a loud bark and slapping momo on the back with her hand, the other hand over her mouth.

some others laugh as well, whether at the cutesy action heechul pulled, or from understanding what onii-chan meant and putting two and two together.

heechul just stands there looking awfully proud of himself for being the 'funny' guy for once.

eventually, a producer walks in, tapping sana and sliding an envelope into her hand, and gestures for all the participants to sit down.

sana clears her throat, still giggling a little as she moves towards the front of the room, "well thankyou everyone for the tour of your lovely place. i hope you all enjoy the rest of your stay here. i've got this envelope in my hand now, with the names of the next group date we'll be going on." she waves the envelope around a little, and everyone plays their part, ooh-ing and waiting in anticipation, "8 people here will be helping me out with the iconic photoshoot date!"

all the participants look around excitedly, the photoshoot date was always a fan-favourite, and it always made an appearance on every bachelor episode, usually with a few group photo shoots and always with a one-on-one photoshoot that's super romantic and revered after.

sana lets the anticipation and excitement settle in, before dramatically pulling out the piece of paper within the envelope, unfolding it, and beginning to read out names, "sunwoo."

sunwoo stands up with a smile, moving over towards sana at the usher of the producers' hands, sana returns the smile.

"eunha." a short girl with a bubbly personality skips over.

"onii-chan~" sana teasingly drags out the word and you stifle a few laughs with momo as heechul beams and stalks forward.

"siwon, shindong, seungri, nayeon."

they all stand up and walk over, you notice sana has picked people that haven't been on a date yet.

"and... wonsik!"'

there's a bit of a stunned silence across the room as wonsik gets up and approaches sana, kissing her on the cheek and taking his place next to her.

wonsik was the only person in that lineup that had already had extended one-on-one time with sana, when some others like jihyo, (although you didn't really mind much that jihyo hasn't been picked for anything yet), hadn't had the opportunity for any time outside of this mansion. so it did seem a little unfair.

you feel your earlier emotions returning to you, the incredulity of heechul's actions completely forgotten as you think back to the full-blown make out session you, along with the rest of the nation had witnessed only an hour ago.

sana's giving a few general closing remarks, telling the chosen group date members what they need to prepare, and saying she'll be waiting for them out front once they're done gathering their things.

you can tell the mood's been a bit sullied as the chosen contestants rush up towards their rooms to change and get ready, the leftover participants left sitting on their hands with nothing to do for the rest of the day.

you say your quick goodbyes, heading off after sana since you would be tagging along on this date as usual.

once you see her though, something comes over you, the heavy, yucky emotions boiling up, and you pull on her arm, a little roughly, and drag her to the nearest bathroom.

"y/n?! what-"

you shut her up, pinning her against the door, locking it and connecting your lips frantically.

she gasps into you, but melts almost immediately, kissing you back with the same amount of intensity.

your tongue peeks out, swiping lightly across her bottom lip, she gasps, and you take the opportunity to gently prod your tongue into her mouth. her tongue comes up to meet yours and she moans when they touch, her hands coming up to grip onto your shoulders.

you're reminded of the fact that someone else was fortunate enough to hear these sounds yesterday.

and you despise it. snarling slightly, you break away, leaning down to kiss along her jawline, "you moan like that for him too hmm?"

she's breathless and confused, her mind muddled with the sudden attack, "w-what? who? huh?" she cuts herself off with another moan as you find the sensitive spot behind her ear that you discovered last night.

"you know- shy little wonsik." you take an earlobe between your teeth, spitting out the name, hands starting to move, grasping her waist, thumbing the bottom of her shirt.

"w-what? n-no- ah! no i-"

"no? you sure you're not lying? looked like you had a good time with him yesterday." you're moving back towards her neck, a hand dipping underneath her shirt and feeling the warm skin of her stomach and inching upwards.

"no what? y/n- fuck-" you're sucking at the sensitive skin on her neck now, "w-wait no y/n- d-don't- no marks-"

you're snarling again, "what? can't have wonsik or the others know you're already being taken care of?" you respect her wishes though, backing off but dropping onto your knees, pushing up her top and kissing her stomach. "fine. i'm marking you up here though. and you're not gonna tell me off this time because no-one-" you suck, "gets to see this much of you right?" biting lightly, "just me hmm?" licking along your newly formed hickey.

she's got her hands in your hair now, lightly pulling in the perfect way, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she tries to keep quiet, eyes heavy-lidded and glossed over, looking down at you with an expression you just want to devour.

so you move back up, capturing her lips once again as she moans, subtly grinding her hips against you, gasping when your hand makes its way to her left breast, kneading softly over her bra.

a tweak of the nipple and she's a whimpering mess around you, pleading, "fuck fuck y/n please-"

you tut, "you think we have enough time baby?" you're other hand that's not teasing her chest undoes the button on her jeans. "the others could be outside waiting for you right now on the other side of this door."

"please! y-yes yes we have enough time just touch me i'm- fuck- soaked already it won't take much- please-"

you undo her jeans with ease, slipping your hand into her underwear, the other one still kneading and groping her chest.

"mm you are soaked baby." you trace down her center, "were you like this yesterday when he was kissing you?" you find her clit and rub, a little harsher than the way she likes but she leaks onto you at the action.

"n-no stop- ugh- stop talking about him y/n what the fuck-"

you continue your assault on her clit, your other hand sliding under her bra and pinching a nipple as she jolts into you, "get used to it. you're the nation's sweetheart right now. you and him are all they're going to be talking about after that show you put on yesterday."

her head lolls back, hitting the door softly as she groans, "h-he doesn't get me like this though. only y-you do- fuck- please y/n please just fuck me."

you don't have much time to keep teasing her so you quickly push into her, cursing at the way she clenches around you immediately, all tight and hot and wet. you don't waste any time, thrusting in and out of her as her head comes back down, biting on your shoulder to keep her voice in.

"mm- mm- faster- baby please-"

you take in her request, plunging into her and adding another finger, in and out, in and out. the wet sounds of her pussy filling the bathroom, you don't have too much arm space to move with her jeans still in the way, but you make do, conscious that the both of you needed to look presentable very soon.

you're pretty much the only thing holding her up now, her legs having gave way a while ago, your hand moving out from under her shirt, holding her hips up and against the door as you thrust into her, thankful that the lack of space meant the door wasn't making too much noise.

you feel her getting tighter around you, bringing a thumb up to press against her clit, "this gets you off doesn't it-" you're slightly out of breath, "knowing just a few meters away the guy you kissed just hours before being fucked senseless by me is waiting for you for even the slightest chance he'll get to feel you tight and hot around him like you are around me right now."

she's mewling, her face still buried in your neck, becoming impossibly tighter again at your words.

"they can't do it like this. everytime you kiss one of them, you'll know you're coming back home to be fucked by me."

you punctuate the end of your sentence with a curl of your fingers inside her, hooking on as she cums with a muffled whine.

and just in time too, when a loud knock on the bathroom door jolts the both of you, you pull out quickly and help zip up her jeans again while she recovers.

"sana? everyone's ready and waiting for you now."

"c-coming!"

her voice is scratchy and shaky, still leaning onto you as you readjust her shirt and comb your fingers through her hair, trying to make her presentable again.

you smirk a little at her word choice, stifling a laugh as you fix her, but she catches you, sending a weak slap onto your shoulder.

you step back and look at her, she's still breathing slightly heavily but otherwise no real damage can be seen.

"okay you're good."

she sidesteps you to check herself in the mirror quickly, adjusting a little. "jeez y/n didn't think you'd become so much of a sex fiend when we said we'd keep it casual."

you roll your eyes, "hurry up your lovers are waiting for you." you wait for her to go out first though, following behind closely as you greet everyone again, a little thrilled at having to act as if nothing happened in the last 10 minutes between the living room and the car you're getting into right now.

sana's her usual smiley self around everyone, and you take glee in knowing that just minutes prior you were literally inside her and pulling noises out of her no one else here would be able to hear.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the group date was certainly shaping up to be one of the most interesting dates of the season.

right now, nayeon, sana, and eunha were learning a short dance number together. their whole set was dressing up as idols so instead of doing a photoshoot, they were going to shoot a small tiktok so it could be used as promotion for the show as well.

before them, sunwoo and sana had done a black-tie sort of concept where they were dressed in a long suit and flowing dress with masquerade masks on. it was all very mysterious and romantic. siwon was also in the set but he was acting as a butler, it was tradition to have photoshoot themes where one contestant was always trying to get in between the set couple, both for some drama and some comedic relief.

the next set involved all the boys stripping down for a beach theme. you had a hunch it was also just to increase the sex appeal of the show. sex sells after all.

and so, sana was put in a tiny bikini, and you had to run from her glare as the makeup artist gaped at the newly formed mark on her upper stomach. so much for no visible marks.

you rolled your eyes as the boys whooped and cheered as they watched sana enter the set. you scoff as almost all of their eyes went straight to either her chest or her ass.

nayeon and eunha come to stand next to you after they're finished changing out of their outfits to observe.

the photographer is telling them the directions for the first scene, sana was going to be lifted up onto seungri and sunwoo's shoulders, you can hear siwon whining and complaining about how sunwoo already had his almost solo photoshoot with her and it should be him.

no one pays him much mind though as seungri immediately goes for sana, lifting her up easily as she squeals in surprise, and settling her on one of his shoulders as sunwoo quickly steps in so sana's rested on his shoulder as well. you squint at the way seungri is looking up at sana.

"ugh that was so unnecessary." nayeon is glaring at them as well.

"right, the way he went at the first chance to grab her ass," eunha scoffs next to her as well, "trust seungri to be as gross as ever."

you raise an eyebrow at the two of them, "is this a common occurrence in the house?"

nayeon shrugs, "seungri's an ass. they all are. except for sunwoo maybe." you nod, noting the way sunwoo refuses to look up at sana, staring straight ahead at the camera, a hand placed carefully over her knee just to make sure she doesn't fall off.

"most of the girls just tend to leave them to their own devices inside the house. we don't really interact with them unless we have to. the first night, jacky almost beat up siwon for shit talking eunji."

they're moving into the second position, this time sana's on her knees with a sandcastle in front of her, and wonsik and shindong are helping her build it, with the other boys goofing off in the background.

"what'd he say?" you ask eunha, eyes still locked onto the scene in front of you.

"some shit about how she ought to look more like a girl. take out the piercings, grow out her hair, cover up her tattoos, all that bull. and that's not even the worst part, he just kept going on and on and then he called her a dyke and that's when jacky lost it."

"what the fuck?"

"yeah. he knows not to say shit around the other guys that aren't in his group now. but he still takes every chance he gets to try and 'convert' us." eunha says in quotation marks.

nayeon chimes in, "doesn't see us as competition because we're girls. just more possibilities for him in case sana doesn't pick him in the end."

shindong has built a slight protrusion out of the sand castle, you can't really tell what he's doing but the photographer is muttering and calling over a few producers who look a little frazzled.

they move on quickly, directing everyone into the ocean for the last shot.

"miyeon told me to keep an eye out for them. guess she was right."

they both look at you in surprise, "you've been talking to miyeon?"

you shrug, watching as sana shrieks when sunwoo playfully splashes water her way, urging her to come in deeper. "she gave me her number after she was eliminated, i texted her this morning."

"how's she doing? it felt terrible watching her go instead of heechul yesterday. honestly had to question sana's judgement a little."

you cringe a little remembering last night, "she's doing okay i think. and-"

you're interrupted by a commotion in the water, and you're running in without thinking, nayeon and eunha not far behind.

by the time you get there, sana's already out of the water, an arm over her chest, covering herself as the costume people quickly go in and shield her, scrambling and yelling for clothes.

you turn on your heel, stalking over to the cameras you knew were filming and shouting for them all to be cut.

once you’re sure that no one is taking advantage of sana anymore and filming without her consent, you’re spinning back to watch as producers are trying to pull apart sunwoo and seungri, seungri sporting a nasty looking black eye and a bleeding nose.  

you’re quick to rush over to sana first though, she’s in an oversized shirt now with a towel wrapped around her.

“what happened? are you okay?”

she sniffles a little, her nose slightly red, “yeah yeah i’m fine. the waves were just really big and i didn’t see them coming. my top came undone and i thought seungri was coming towards me to help tie it back up but he.. um, well…” she blushes and looks away.

you're livid.

the producers look thankful as you march up towards them, hoping you were there to help the situation, but you walk straight up to seungri, bringing a knee up into his crotch, hard, and when he keels over in pain, you swing an uppercut right into his face.

you would've kicked him as well if there aren't suddenly arms around you, yanking you backwards, and you let them, but then you get a glimpse of a stupid grin and you knew it was seungri's buddies pulling you away you start writhing. your fist connects with a couple hard spots and you smirk when you hear a few groans of pain. eventually, it's sunwoo who pulls the guys off you harshly, throwing them down into the sand and standing next to you, still glaring at seungri.

"you think you're real slick huh? think you could get away with sexually harassing someone on national television?" you're seething, spitting words out as seungri is still doubled over.

"couldn't keep it in your pants for more than 2 minutes you'd risk your entire career and face-"

"y/n." sana's stepping up to you now, a hand on your shoulder trying to pacify you.

"pack your things and leave seungri. i never want to see you again. you can talk with your lawyers about editing that scene out but i have a feeling it'll be left in because drama pays more than whatever you can offer."

seungri is finally up, still bleeding and probably sporting a broken nose now, "but-"

"you heard her. get the fuck outta here before we press charges." you step forward now, and he shrinks, afraid you'll go for his balls again.

security has finally arrived on scene and they escort seungri off the premises.

things are still pretty much in disarray after that, but despite everything, sana still powers through, rejecting the offer to stop filming for today, instead, picking sunwoo as the star of the group date, the rest of you are sent back to either get changed or head back to the mansion to get ready for the night's rose ceremony.

you desperately want a moment alone with sana to check in with her. but she seems headstrong on bulldozing through the rest of the day, and you're whisked away soon enough.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the gossip spreads quickly.

after you've gotten changed into your outfit for the night, a sleek white suit with your hair carefully done up, courtesy of the costume and hair and makeup teams back at the bachelorette pad, you're sipping on a flute of champagne, talking with everyone about how the group date went.

"-and she sent him home after." eunha's finished telling the story to a few gasps and looks of shock.

"i knew i shoulda clocked that guy as soon as he made that comment about jiwon's dress." jacky's muttering, fists clenched in anger.

"poor sana i hope she's okay."

"yeah she was really incredible tonight to be fair. the producers had asked if she wanted a break and to continue filming tomorrow but she said she wanted to keep going."

"and sunwoo too, i'm glad he went in there and defended her. as jealous as i am that he won i'm glad she has him right now if she wants to talk." nayeon speaks up.

jihyo's loud voice is suddenly shouting from across the courtyard, "guys! look it's sana and sunwoo!"

everyone's rushing over towards the beach where it seems they had a long walk down from the photoshoot location all the way back to the mansion. your heart's pounding, wanting so badly to be with sana right now, to listen to her, to be angry for her, to be the one pulling her into an embrace right now as the contestants aww at the two of them hugging with the picturesque twilight in the background, sea breeze blowing softly.

they break away eventually, looking up towards all of you who wave and holler at them.

then they've interlocked hands, slowly making their way up to the mansion.

everyone is greeting each other again, but the producers quickly cut it short, saying the both of them have to go and get dressed so that the rose ceremony can begin.

the group disperses with a grumble, and you find yourself following sana, the costume designers not paying you any mind as you enter the designated dressing room inside the mansion.

"hey..."

sana jumps slightly but relaxes when she sees you, "hey yourself. what are you doing here?"

"just wanted to check in on you."

she tuts, "you're sweet y/n but there's no need for that. he was an ass and i sent him home. we don't have to worry about him anymore."

"yeah but.. like it's okay to still feel affected you know?"

she turns around, "zip me up?"

you nod, stepping forward and carefully reaching for the zipper on her back, sliding it up slowly, making sure it doesn't get caught on any outstanding threads.

she sighs, holding her hair over one shoulder so you can slide the zipper all the way up, "i'm just trying to get through today. after today's done... well if i still want to talk about it then i'll tell you. okay?"

you sigh softly against her, pressing your lips lightly against the back of her neck, "alright. just don't try to do everything yourself okay? i'm here."

a hand comes up and rests over yours, "i know baby. thankyou. c'mon, let's get this ceremony outta the way so we can go home and cuddle."

you hum, taking her hand and letting her lead you out of the dressing room and towards the courtyard.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

you're getting a serious case of deja vu when the last 4 people are standing.

4 people were meant to be eliminated tonight, but since seungri was asked to leave early, sana only had to pick 3 more to leave.

the choices were between shindong, siwon, heechul, and jiwon.

surely this time sana wouldn't make a decision that was too surprising.

"jiwon." you can feel most of the room letting out a collective sigh of relief, and the stunned faces of the three leftover guys you wished you could frame and put up. there were bound to be screenshots and memes made off them anyway.

unlike the previous nights, no one really moves in to say goodbye to any of the guys, just waving a polite greeting as they exit.

the mc comes in next and wishes everyone a good night. sana goes forward to mingle a little more, wishing everyone well before she comes back to you, taking your hand and pulling you towards the front of the house, eager to go home.

the ride back is quiet but peaceful. you're hands have never left each others and you enjoy the short ride back to your shared home. once the driver has dropped you off you both head inside, take off those godforsaken heels, and drop down onto the couch.

sana's head in your lap, as you turn on the tv, pressing play on a random cartoon, carding your fingers through her hair.

you can tell the day has exhausted her, so you let her eyes drift shut, and her breathing even out, reaching for the blanket kept next to the couch and draping it over her.

you could take off her makeup and change her clothes later before taking her to bed, but for now, you were content to watch silly cartoons with sana safe in your hands.