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writersdrug · 5 months

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Training for Two

Chapter 5. Back to Square One

Masterlist

Summary: Simon's rapidly growing obsession with you comes to a halt.

Warnings: obsessive behavior, cursing, slight nsfw

The drive back to Simon's house was quiet and dark. Price had turned on the radio, letting classic rock play quietly in the background. He tapped the steering wheel every so often, humming to whatever lyrics he could remember.

Simon sat in the passenger seat, staring at the cars ahead, occasionally glancing at the signs that whizzed by the truck. Each sign that brought him closer to home made him ache. He thought about his bed. He thought about Riley. And, of course, he thought about you. He knew you most likely wouldn't be there - it was after midnight. But he liked to imagine that you'd be waiting there, sitting on his couch with your book and mug of tea, Riley settled next to you, ready to greet him with your smile - the smile that he'd been thinking about in every stolen moment during the mission.

"Alright there, Simon?" Price cut through the silence, dragging Simon back to earth.

He cleared his throat. "Yes sir. Jus' ready to be back."

Price scoffed. He knew Simon didn't consider his house a home. If anything, it was a safe house between missions. "I'm sure Riley will be happy to see you."

"We'll see about that." Simon said with a chuckle. "This dog-sitter might've stolen her from me."

"Nah, she's yours. Been with 'er through it all." Price said as he turned into Simon's neighborhood. "I'm sure she enjoyed the company, though."

Simon grunted. "Seems like it." He said, remembering the picture you had sent him; the way Riley had cozied up to you, the way she seemed so docile and calm in your presence. He imagined you running your fingers through her fur, the perfect ratio of scratching to gentle pets. He wondered what it would feel like on his scalp...

A shiver ran down his spine. How does one become jealous of their own damn dog? It was ridiculous.

"Speaking of the dog-sitter..." Price said, "Johnny mentioned she's a real-"

"Whatever Johnny told you, you can disregard." Simon grumbled. "I told him not to worry 'bout it."

Price chuckled, which made Simon burn with frustration. "Touchy subject, eh?"

"There's nothing to discuss." He replied bitterly. Quite frankly, he didn't like the picture Soap had managed to paint of him. His entire team thought he was whipped by someone he had barely known. Despite it being entirely true, it was the complete opposite of the image he had built of himself - and he had a reputation to keep.

"Right." Price nodded. Simon could tell he didn't believe him, but as long as he didn't try to pester him anymore about it, Simon would take it as a win.

Price pulled into the driveway, and Simon immediately unbuckled. He reached into the back and grabbed his duffel bag, then yanked his door open and got out.

"Y' know this isn't over." Price said, right before Simon could close the door. "We most likely 'ave a week 'fore we get sent out again. Just don't get too comfortable 'ere."

"Never do." Simon replied, shouldering his bag. "I'll wait for your call."

Price nodded, sending Simon off with a wave. He watched as he closed the passenger door and walked up the path to his house, before pulling out of the driveway and heading towards his own home.

Simon sighed as he fished his keys from his pocket. He heard Riley barking on the other side of the door, and a small smile formed on his face. When he pushed it open, she immediately jumped on him, whining and sniffing him all over. He knew she could smell the others on him, and probably wondered why he didn't bring her this time.

"Hey, girl..." he said, yanking his balaclava off and kneeling down to ruffle her fur. "Sorry I's gone so long. Miss me?"

She stood her front paws on his knees and licked his face, still whining and swinging her tail rapidly.

"Yeah, missed you too." He chuckled. "D'ya have fun? Did she treat you right?"

Riley dropped down to the floor as Simon stood. She turned towards his duffel bag and began sniffing, eyes focused on the fabric as she took in all the new and familiar scents.

Simon sighed. "'Bout time for a proper cuppa." He said, making his way into the kitchen. Despite it nearing one in the morning, it would be a while before he was decompressed enough to fall asleep.

He reached into the cupboard for a mug, ignoring the way his back popped. When he placed the mug down and reached for a teabag, he saw a note on the counter. With a furrowed brow, he picked it up and read it.

Hello Simon!

Hope your deployment was fun good! Riley and I had a blast! She learned how to play dead - if you want to try it, just make sure to give her a biscuit for it (she's only had one today, and she was a bit bitter that I left before giving her a second one). Also, she's had her medicine for the day. I gave her last dose around 9 pm.

Can't wait to spend more time with her, but I'm sure she's happy to see her dad! Let me know when you need me next!

Have a nice evening!

P.S. I had to use your washing machine, I hope that was alright. I got a bit muddy trying to teach her the new trick.

He stared at the note for a good amount of time. His eyes wandered over your meticulously neat handwriting. He noticed how often you liked to use exclamation points - the same way you did in your texts and emails. It made him annoyed - but not with you. He was annoyed that he found it... adorable. He shouldn't. You were too bright and happy; your personality should burn him, not warm him up.

He tried to brush it off, blaming his obervant behaviour on the recent mission. Old habits die hard, he lied to himself.

"Riley, c'mere."

Upon hearing her name, Riley meandered into the kitchen and stopped in front of Simon. She sat on her hind legs and looked at him expectantly.

He looked back at her - he felt a bit silly, commanding a retired veteran dog to do simple party tricks. But, it sounded like you put a lot of effort into teaching her this - not to mention, you had somehow dirtied your clothes over it - so he decided to entertain the idea.

"Play dead." He said firmly.

Riley immediately flopped down onto her back, sticking her paws into the air. She even let her tongue hang out of her mouth to really sell the image.

He felt an immediate rush of pride. "Atta girl..." he praised, kneeling down and patting her affectionately. Despite all the annoyance he felt a moment ago, Simon couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face.

She twisted and sat up, snuffling and groaning as he rubbed her fur. She barked once, sharp and demanding.

"Yeah, yeah- suppose you deserve a biscuit, huh?" He stood up and grabbed the box of peanut butter and bacon treats, fishing one out and tossing it to Riley. She caught it perfectly, crunching it with an open mouth and licking her lips afterwards.

He watched her with a smile, his arms folded over his chest. Sure, tricks were dumb, something only glorified house pets did for small rewards. But he was impressed that Riley had so effortlessly followed a new command, especially after being out of work for so long. And he was warmed by the fact that, not only did you watch her, but you engaged with her. He was confident he'd found the perfect pet-sitter.

After starting a load of laundry, Simon had taken a cold shower. He scrubbed his eyeblack off with nothing but his hands and the generic body wash from the corner store. He slathered some of his 3-in-one hair gel into his scalp, giving it no more than seven scrubs before rinsing it out. He stood there for a while, letting the water beat against his sore back as the details of the previous mission swarmed throughout his head. He picked apart what he could have done better, what had nearly gotten him killed, and what had probably saved his life.

His eyes flickered to the corner of the tub; there was a cluster of travel-sized bottles, labeled "face wash", "body butter", and so forth. He let himself imagine - who was he kidding, he had no control over his thoughts when it came to you - your body, standing under the stream of the shower. You probably liked hot showers, didn't you? You most likely stayed in there for an hour, going through your meticulous routine, lathering yourself in scented soaps and creams... you'd be appalled if you had seen the three-minute showers he takes, wouldn't you? Maybe you would pull him into your routine, once Simon did eventually get the balls to ask you out, despite how much the thought of being romantic with someone made him scoff. He'd let you wash his face, or shave his balls, or do whatever it is you would do to him.

He suddenly snapped out of his trance, realizing he was holding one of the bottles labeled "conditioner". His thumb was on the edge of the cap, ready to flip it open and take a whiff of the scent - but he quickly stopped himself. He put the bottle back with the rest, then splashed cold water over his face. Quit being a fuckin' creep... he thought.

After turning the shower off and drying himself with a towel, he went into his room and grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He made his way back into the basement, patting Riley on the back as he passed her by the door. He pulled his laundry out and placed it on top of the washing machine, and opened the dryer. Just as he was getting ready to toss his clothes in, he noticed something hiding in the back of the barrel of the machine.

He reached in and pulled it out - it was your flannel. The same green-and-grey one you'd been wearing during your interview.

He paused for a moment, posture rigid as he held the fabric in the air. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it. It was just a flannel... but it was your flannel. He fought with his muscles, resisting the urge to bring it closer and inhale the scent - he tried to reason with himself. Maybe she used my soap, and it would just smell like my detergent. Nothin' special.

He dropped it on top of the dryer, still wrinkly and warm - but, strangely, that felt too rude. It's a fucking piece of clothing, for Christ's sake... he thought. Not her dead nan. He then attempted to hang it on the rack, but that felt too formal. He groaned, rubbing his eyes with irritation. How something so insignificant was causing him so much turmoil was beyond him.

He ended up bringing it back upstairs. Riley sniffed the fabric as he passed her - she thumped her tail eagerly on the floor as she smelled your scent. Once again, Simon was jealous of the dog being able to act so carefree with you - he knew for sure that if he tried sniffing your flannel, he would be a certified creep. Or, worse yet, he might not care, and wouldn't be able to stop himself.

He tossed it over the back of the couch, planning on forgetting you had ever even worn it. He dropped himself onto the cuhions with a groan. Riley immediately took her place in her bed, just a few feet away from him. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the telly, flicking through the channels until he found some action/drama that caught his interest. He watched it boredly, drowning himself and his thoughts in the drone of the movie.

Suddenly, Riley barked. Simon looked at her - his gaze was met with hers, mouth opening and tail thwapping against the wall.

"Hmm?"

She let out an impatient, garbled sound. She lowered her head to the edge of her bed, still looking at Simon.

He shrugged internally and looked back at the screen. He settled further into the cushions and let his eyes fall shut. He thought about maybe drifting off then and there - the din of the telly might help keep the nightmares at bay...

Riley barked again, making Simon jolt. He snapped his head towards her - she was standing at the foot of the couch, ears back and panting.

"Wha' d'you want?" He asked in an annoyed tone.

She barked again, shifting her weight from one paw to the other.

"Ya need to go out?" He asked. He stood from his seat, only for Riley to scamper back to her bed and plop down on it. She looked at him expectantly.

Simon huffed. "'M not following." He dropped down to the sofa again. Riley groaned, making a scene of dragging herself out of the bed again and walking over to Simon.

"Now, don't you go 'n start aga-"

She cut him off with a shrill yap.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew it couldn't be time for her medication - you had just given her some at nine. But he was entirely stumped on what she was trying to communicate to him. Was she hungry? She wasn't usually, after she'd had dinner... did she want to play? But... she was acting like she wanted to go to bed.

"What are you on 'bout?" He asked, leaning down to ruffle her fur. She dodged his hand and backed up a bit, yowling out a frustrated sound.

He scoffed. "Fuckin' hell..." he mumbled, pulling his phone from his pocket. Only one way to fix this, he thought, as he tapped through his contacts, until he landed on yours.

He stared at the picture for a moment, familiarizing himself with the details he had spent so long ogling at: your smile, your damp hair, the curve of your cheekbones, the way you marked your spot in your book with your fingers-

Riley barked again, making Simon scowl.

"A'right- just hush." He ordered, sending her a stern glance as she shuffled back to her bed. He started the call - he felt unusually nervous, his gut twisting as he listened to each ring on the line. Maybe he really was whipped, he thought.

Eventually, the call picked up. His shoulders tensed as he heard shuffling on the other end of the line.

"... m... hello?"

Fuck. You sounded tired- no, you sounded like you were still asleep. He quickly pulled the phone away and checked the time; it was nearly two in the morning. Of course you'd been asleep.

"Uh... hey." He said, mentally cursing himself. "Shit, I, uh... didn't even consider you might be asleep."

"No..." You mumbled - were you even awake at all? "No, iz fine... yeah..."

Simon waited a moment, expecting you to say something else - but you didn't. Eventually, he heard the soft sounds of your breathing again.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Up... 'm up... what's up?"

Simon shifted in his seat, slightly ashamed that he hadn't put two and two together and ended up calling you so late. "Right- jus' a quick-"

Riley barked again, staring at Simon impatiently.

Simon covered the speaker to his phone and sent her a harsh glare. "Oi! 'M workin' on it, hush!"

Your sleepy giggle wafted through the phone and into Simon's ear. "Sweet baby..."

Simon's breath caught in his throat, and he coughed nervously. She means the dog, the fucking dog, you idiot.

"Uh, sorry- jus' got a question for ya."

"Hmm?"

"Well- she's acting a bit funny," he stared at Riley and held a cautioning hand up as she shifted her weight and whined, "she's runnin' around and yellin' at me. Keeps gettin' in 'er bed, then comin' back like- like she wants somethin'. I have no bloody idea. Just wonderin' if she was doin' this with you."

"Oh, yeah..." Simon could hear your smile through the phone, and he desperately tried to push the image of your tired face from his mind. "She wants her blanket."

Simon paused. "She- she's got her blanket."

"No- she wants you to tuck her in."

"She wha' now?"

You laughed again. "You need to tuck her in her bed. She's right under the air vent and she gets cold."

He looked back at Riley. She was now sitting down, mouth closed, as if agreeing with what you said. He scoffed, rising from the couch and shuffling towards her. She slowly thumped her tail as he approached.

"Never 'eard of a dog gettin' tucked in..." he grumbled. He grabbed the felt blanket behind her, swaddling it around her body. She groaned, slowly blinking at him in an appreciative manner.

"Ya spoiled, you hear me?" He said quietly, tucking the blanket in between her and the cushion of the bed. She sighed happily, completely unaware that he was insulting her. She licked his cheek when he bent down close enough, and he grumbled and wiped the spittle away.

You giggled in his ear - Christ, you've got to stop doing that, do you have any idea what it does to him? - as he sat back down on the sofa. "All better?" You asked.

"Seems t' be-" he replied, watching Riley as she settled into her cocoon, "ya turnin' her into a princess."

"Well, she is one." You quickly replied - Simon could hear you stretching your limbs, followed by a long exhale.

He wanted to talk to you all night. Hearing you prattle on was like a balm to his jagged mind. But he knew he couldn't. You were half asleep, after all.

"Well, tha's all I needed- oh, and you, uh..." he grabbed your flannel off the back of the sofa. "Y' left your flannel here."

"I did?"

"Yeah. The green one."

"Oh, bullocks, I knew I-"

"Who are you talking to at this hour?"

Simon felt his heart stop when he heard the other voice. It had hit him like a train, flooding his veins with adrenaline. His brain went into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible scenario. Break in? Crazy stalker? Murderous ex? "Y' aright, love?"

"Simon." You said, and he couldn't tell if you were talking to him or someone else. Were you trying to warn him? To ask for help?

"Talk to me."

"Who the bloody hell is Simon?"

"My client, ya git."

"Oh- sorry love-" Simon heard more shuffling, then a kiss, followed by a grunt from you. He let himself linger in the confusion of what was going on - but, in the back of his mind, he understood it completely.

"Got me right in my bloody eye-"

"Oh, hush."

"Left your flannel at his house."

"My green one?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you were using the grey one!"

"Well, I was, Tyler, and then I wanted the green one!"

"That's it - I'm stealin' all ya knickers tomorrow."

You laughed again - this time. The sound nearly shattered Simon. He felt like it was wrong to hear you laugh so sweetly.

"Well, uh-" he was speaking before he even realized it. "You can pick it up- or I'll drop it off- or, uh, I can drop it- I mean, I'll-"

"You can shove it in the closet until next time, if that's alright?" You said, yawning shortly after.

Simon paused. He needed to get it together. "Yea, that'll work. I'll let you go then - sorry to call so late."

"It's fine, really. But let me know when you'll need me again, ok?"

"'Course I will. I'll send you an email, as usual."

You scoffed. "I know you said we should only text for emergencies, but you can text me if it's something small, Simon."

"Right, will do. I'll text you."

"Is everything ok?"

"It's fine. You should sleep. I'll talk later."

"Ok. Goodnight, Simon."

"G'bye."

He ended the call, staring at the screen for a moment, until your contact photo faded away. He leaned his head back and sighed. His thoughts suddenly came rushing back - except this time, they were about you. How he should have expected you to have a partner. How could you not? You were so bright and bubbly, of course you'd be snatched up. He felt stupid for thinking you'd be single. Maybe this whole idea of you falling for him was stupid. Maybe this was better - he was saved from rejection, even if this situation stung painfully within his chest.

Whatever. Hopefully, your personality would finally drive him over the edge of annoyance and anger, and you'd be more of a nuisance to him. That'd be the easiest way you could let him down.

He looked at the flannel in his lap. It's not even hers. He thought. He crumpled the fabric into his hand and flung it behind him.

Riley's head snapped up at the movement, and she floundered out of her bed, chasing after the flannel.

"Riley, no- don't-" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard her scuffling across the floor. He kept his eyes closed as he heard her come trotting back, before she stopped at the edge of the couch.

She whined and tilted her head. Simon opened his eyes and looked at her.

"That's not even hers, ya ninny." He said. He looked away and turned up the telly, hoping that everything in his head would just disappear into the back of his mind.

Riley stepped around Simon's feet as she carried the flannel in her mouth. She then hopped onto the couch and settled next to Simon, depositing the (now damp) clothing onto his lap. He grunted as she laid her head down on his leg, whining and flattening her ears. She looked up at him with curious eyes, slowly thumping her tail on the cushion.

He exhaled through his nose. He stared at the flannel, then back at Riley. "Ya really like her, eh?"

She licked her lips and blinked, sighing through her nose.

He chuckled, patting her side and looking at the ceiling. "I know. I do too." He closed his eyes.

"We'll be alright, girl."

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2K notes · View notes

jistagrams · 5 months

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best interest p.sh

pairing: park sunghoon x fem! reader

warnings: smut, zestyish jokes (Jake and sunghoon are basically In love idk), cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!), kinda mean? dom sunghoon, pervert sunghoon, slight choking, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything!

minors dni!!

Friday 6:10 pm

what sunghoon didn't expect was to fall in love with you, living together just made him crazy, seeing you walk around in a big tee with just panties under?? yeah. "She won't even let jay hit" sunghoon ranted to his friend on facetime, "maybe shes a virgin and she's saving it for someone special" Jake replied, placing a kiss on his girlfriends head turning off his mic. "I'm someone special!" Hoon whined throwing his phone on his bed, "I guess not to her" Jake turned his mic back on snickering. "Should I fuck her best friend to get revenge.." he started questioning his own existence, hes never been this crazy over someone. did you cast a love spell on him or something? "her best friend is haechan" Jake set up his phone on the table, showing him as he put his headphones on and turning on his console. "ok nevermind. would rather kiss you than fuck haechan" "you would kiss me?" "hell no." "then why say it you got my hopes up" "..jake shut the fuck up" Jake laughs as the light from his computer reflected on his face. "yk what you should do, try and seduce her" he proposed, "that doesn't sound that bad, how would I even do that" sunghoon replies, finally picking his phone up from the bed to walk into the kitchen. "mmm, since y'all live together try walking around like shirtless or like... loudly jerking off??" Jake bit his nails while thinking, "holy shit your gonna make me get a restraining order" sunghoon laughed out loud, hearing the door unlock he quickly hung up and texted Jake "she's home, gonna take ur advice istg if she calls the cops on me you'll never see ur stupid apex acc again."

Friday 8:56 pm

he was nervous, obviously. he wasn't nervous about how he looked, he knew he looked good. he was just nervous on how your reaction would be, he hyped himself up in his room for a bit. doing some pushups till he walked out of his room shirtless knowing your in the kitchen, "yn" he spoke out to you, making you turn around to look at him. "why are u naked" was the first thing you said to him since you got home. "gonna take a shower, u cooking anything?" "Nah, I'm ordering food I'm just in here eating chips", clearly looking unfazed, "should we order something then?" He replied. Walking into the kitchen, sweats hanging low. Showing a obvious bulge, "I'll just get pizza u go take a shower, you stink like sweat" you looked away from his piercing gaze. He chuckled, "mm, ok let me know when the food comes I'll get it" he says while walking away and into the bathroom, quickly locking it and holding his head in his hands.

sunghoon : She won't even look at me 😭😭💔💔💔💔💔😢

Jake : maybe ur js butt ugly.

sunghoon : this is not helping idiot

Jake : did u walk around shirtless 🌚

sunghoon : YES BRO. even wore my baggy jeans to show extra 🤬😡

Jake : what if she's into girls...omg sunghoon I'm cooking here

sunghoon : only thing ur cooking is that burnt ass hair.

Jake : fuck u times 10 😒

sunghoon : u wanna fuck me 🌚

Jake : my gf just saw that msg without seeing the name I hope yn never ends up liking you.

sunghoon : CHILL BRO

he took a shower while blasting music, thinking on what his next plan was. he got out of the shower, black hair dripping water as he wrapped a towel around his waist. he looked in the mirror as he thought of a idea, he picked up his phone as some random rap song played, he took a picture shirtless. Sending it to Jake to confirm if it was cute or not.

sunghoon : *image attached*

Jake : wrong person

sunghoon : u fucking airhead is it cute or not

Jake : oh LMFAOOO

Jake : it's cute, who's it for

sunghoon : baefy yn

Jake : atp send her a dick pic

sunghoon : should i

Jake : yea if u wanna get blocked

as he turned his music off he heard you yelling for him from the living room. He quickly threw on his boxers and sweats, getting out as he put his phone in his pocket. "what's wrong?" He asked standing Infront of you, once again. Wearing baggy sweats but instead of them damn near falling off they are tied with the string. "do u not have any shirts or something, also the pizzas here" you handed him the money for the tip, he grabs it and walks to the door. "thanks" he smiled at the young woman handing him the pizza who was basically drooling. "can I get your number" she sheepishly asked. You looked at them in disgust, looking at the girl as sunghoon laughed and said no. He closed the door, walking back over to you, flopping on the couch and putting the pizza on the table. "why didn't you give her your number?" You asked, "wasn't interested" he shrugged, picking up a piece of pizza. Watching whatever you put on. "Lame."

Saturday 10:43 pm

he was hard. Extremely horny. to the point where he thought he might cum at barely sliding down his shorts. he thought back to the call he had with Jake yesterday, "jerk off loudly, yeah if I wanna be seen as a perv" he scoffed and slid down his shorts and boxers in one go. thinking if he should get off to a picture of you or just some random video on pornhub, he decided on a random video on pornhub. last thing he wants to be is a pervert (even tho he already jerks off to your pictures anyways..) he whined softly as he held his dick in his hand. fuck it. He loaded in on Instagram and stalked your account as his hand slid up and down his shaft. soft moans escaping his throat while looking through your highlights till he found his favorite picture, one of you and him at the beach. bathing suit top hugging your chest so well, making sunghoon's hand go faster on his already red cock, precum dribbling out his slit. His finger accidentally slipping and liking the year old photo. Shit. Shit shit shit. just as he was freaking out his load started shooting out, landing on his black shirt and blankets. his moan was loud, extremely loud. He only realized till after calming down from his high that 1. He sounded like a porn film and 2. He liked your story. He cleaned himself off with the shirt he was wearing, taking it off and throwing it in his laundry basket. Pulling his boxers and shorts up, grabbing another shirt from his drawer. just as he put his shirt on he heard his door swing open, "why you stalking me" you smirked at sunghoon, sitting on his chair in his room. "wasnt stalking you" he side eyed you as he continued to put on his shirt, looking down to notice a cum stain on his shorts cursing to himself, "I needa change my shorts. U gonna stay or what" he asked, looking at you. you turned around in the spin chair, he quickly took off his shorts and grabbed another pair. Putting them on and laying on his bed, "you can look now" he said, picking up his phone to see who texted him. "sunghoon" you called out to him, scooting closer to the bed until you gave up and laid on the bed next to him, "hm?" He replied. Sending a quick text to Jake and going on TikTok, "you should be quieter when you jerk off. not everyone wants to hear that when they wanna call their friend" you smiled at him teasingly as he looked at you before flicking your head with the same hand he used to jerk off with. You got up from his bed and left, sunghoon closed his door with his foot , sending another text to Jake. "Your dead meat."

Thursday 12:29 am

it's been 4 days since he started trying to seduce you, key word. Trying. everytime he jerked off you would just ignore it, same with him walking around in just sweats. he's at the point where he might as well walk around naked, he let our a frustrated sigh as he stood up from his bed. going to your room to get his charger that he lent you a few hours prior, maybe god was on his side or he was just lucky as hell. He opened the door to see you fucking yourself on a dildo. He feels like he could die from happiness right now, you were quick to slide the dildo out of you and cover yourself up. "Oh. My bad" he said, grabbing his charger from your side table. Your face was red, "sunghoon" you quietly called out. "what? ur not done with the charger?" He asked, looking at you covered by your purple sheets. You shook your head, "you wanna help?" you asked, uncovering your body.

Thursday 9:12am

he really has to stop dreaming of you. He woke up hard as shit, all because of that stupid dream. Like he would walk in on your masturbating? Yeah right. He sat up from his bed and groggily walked into the kitchen, he ignored you as he grabbed a water bottle and chugged it. You were quick to notice the very obvious bulge, swallowing your spit while you looked at his back. imagining how it would look after you scratched it during sex. Or how his hands would feel on your body, how his fingers would feel inside of you. Ok yn. Enough of these lewd thoughts. That's your friend your thinking of, your really hot friend. "u wanna make breakfast?" he said, his hot breath on your neck. you felt goosebumps, how did he get behind you so quick? the hell? "not hungry right now so no" you answered, not daring to turn around. "But I'm hungry" he mumbled resting his head on your shoulder. "Make your own food loser" you quickly spoke, moving quick to your room. he smirked to himself, he finally got to you. He's definitely gonna tell Jake about this.

Thursday 5:01 pm

"yn" you hummed as you focused on your show. "Are you a virgin" he asked, you nearly choke on your spit. "What kind of question is that?" You stare at him in shock. Sunghoon shrugged, not looking away from the tv. "Are you?" He asked again. "No sunghoon. I'm not a virgin. Are you?" You spoke with a small attitude in your voice, "nope" he replied, popping the p. "Are you lesbian?" He asked another question. "no. What the hell are these questions??" You shifted your whole body towards him. "So why don't you look my way." He finally looked at you, once again. Staring with a piercing gaze. "What do you mean by that" you know exactly what he means. "Why don't you show any interest in me" the fuck? You always show interest in him, why do you think you wear just shirts around the house? "I do" doesn't seem like it. "I like you yn." He finally expressed his feelings that were making him go insane. "me too" your voice was barley heard, "you like yourself too?" He smiled and chuckled softly. "No I like you too" you smiled back, feeling shy at the sudden confessions. "You know I love you" he said, scooting closer. Holding your face as he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, "I would hope so, why are you saying it so early though" you snickered, "cause I'm about to fuck you like I don't" his smile was so innocent you almost didn't register what he said, he's gonna fuck you like he doesn't? Hell yeah.

Thursday 5:30 pm

your not sure how you ended up in sunghoon's bed, laying on your back as he slurped up your juices. Spewing random shit as he ate you out, "been waiting like...months for this moment" his chin was glistening from eating you out. Sticking two fingers inside to bring you closer to your climax, and you were quick to hit it. Gripping onto his hand that was sliding in and out of you, helping you ride your high out. "that was good huh?" He smiled up at you. giving him a tired nod, he slipped his fingers out of you and sat up. Kissing your lips before sticking his fingers in your mouth to taste yourself, he was different from any other men you've slept with. No man would do this, besides sunghoon apparently. He took his fingers out of your mouth after you sucked them clean, praising you softly as he pulled his boxers down. Slapping his dick on your pussy, "you ready?" You nodded. He entered slowly, groaning out while you pulled him down to hold onto him. Clawing on his back, when he fully bottomed out you realized he was huge. Like 6 inches huge. Sliding back out just to thrust back in, he kept his quite fast pace while you rambled about something he wasn't paying attention to. only thing he was focused on was how good you felt around him, almost too good. "fuck, gonna cum soon if you keep clenching like that" he moaned out, kissing your cheek as he whined and moaned in your ear. "sunghoon" you sighed out, "yeah baby?" he answered. Lifting himself up, keeping his hands on your tits as you rambled about how good he felt. "I know love" he hummed back, sliding out. "doggy style baby" you were quick to get into the position and he was quick to slide right back in, you felt him deeper than you did just a few seconds ago. Arms already weak, making sunghoon hold you up. He was hitting places you didn't even know he could hit, "already fucked out?" He snickered, his hand snaking up to your neck to apply pressure. you immediately felt yourself let go and cum, "i-im cumming" you whined out, holding onto his arm. "I know" He replied, letting you go to fall onto the bed. fucking you harder than he already was, "gonna cum inside n ruin you for every other man" he grunted in your ear,trying to chase his own high. "fuck, taking it so well. who fucks you the best?" He moaned, "y-you" you were extremely sensitive, you felt another climax coming. it came too fast to even warn sunghoon, all he felt was tons of juice on his abs and hips. "Holy shit you just squirted" he spoke in pure shock, still fucking you as he praises you. you were a mess, tears were streaming down your cheeks as sunghoon finally came inside, "m' cumming pretty" he sighed out as he came, rocking his hips slowly. "you did so good for me baby" he slid out and kneeled down, he was quick to latch onto your pussy to clean you up. "w-wait sunghoon" you gasped out, "I'm almost done love" he reassured you, he was right. He had fully cleaned you up and laid down beside you, holding you softly. placing kisses on your face, both of you falling asleep

Friday 10:13 am

yeah. His back does look hot with a bunch of scratch marks. "does your back hurt?" You asked, embarrassed from how many there are. "nah, even if it did I think it would be worth it" he smiled as he poured coffee for you, kissing your forehead and placing a arm around your waist. maybe Jake was right, after all his advice did get sunghoon here.

#jistagrams rants #kpop #kpop smut #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #enhypen #fyp #tumblr fyp #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut

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roosterforme · 1 year

Text

So Fresh, So Clean | Rooster x Reader

Summary: At first, Bradley is mortified when the guys force him to stop at a carwash featuring bikini clad women from a college softball team. But when he meets you there, he starts to think he should thank his friends instead.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 2000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

I wrote this for a request and for @wicked-remarks Summer Festival! Check out my masterlist for more!

"Dude, stop at In-N-Out. I'm starving," Payback whined from the passenger seat as Bradley zipped down the road in his Bronco.

"Nah, just stop at Starbucks," Jake argued from the backseat. "I need more caffeine."

"We're going to be late," Bradley groaned, passing the fifth fast food place while Payback whined and pointed out the window.

"We told Nat we'd be there around noon," Coyote said from the back. "I mean, if we stopped for food, we could grab something for her too."

Bradley rubbed his hand over his face, wondering why he had agreed to drive all of these idiots. "Guys, if I stop, I'm only stopping once. Then straight to the beach. So decide what you want."

Then Coyote started stuttering at the same time Payback said, "Holy shit! Pull over! Pull over!" Bradley looked where Payback was pointing, and then he saw a sign that said University of San Diego Softball along with a car wash and a lot of scantily clad women.

"Fuck caffeine. We're stopping here!" Jake said, practically climbing into the front seat. "Come on, Rooster!" He started trying to grab the steering wheel, and Bradley had to smack his arm away.

"Seriously!" Bradley yelled. "Stop reaching for the steering wheel!" He slowed down as all three of his passengers started loudly begging him. "You want to look at a bunch of college girls who couldn't care less about you more than you want burgers?"

"Hell yes!" Payback sang as Bradley put his turn signal on and pulled into the parking lot where the collegiate softball team was holding a very popular looking car wash. There were so many cars lined up, and a lot of men milling around. Bradley parked next to a pickup truck and eyed the women in wet tee shirts and bathing suits while Jake pounded on the back of his seat.

"They are practically naked! Get out so I can get out!" Jake whined.

"Chill!" Bradley said, loud enough that he had the attention of all three of them. "You guys need to be on your best behavior. I'm not kidding!"

"Look at them," Coyote said, pulling his sunglasses lower on his nose and whistling. "These girls are hot."

Bradley groaned. "Yes, I see them. And don't call them girls. They're women. And please don't touch any of them. Oh my god, I'm already so embarrassed."

"Let's go," Payback said, opening his door. "Time to flirt."

"They don't want to flirt with you," Bradley muttered. "You're thirty five."

"I dunno about that," Jake drawled, fixing his hair. "That redhead looks like she might like a daddy."

"Oh my fucking Lord, we are going to get kicked out of a fundraiser," Bradley groaned as he climbed out of his door and was nearly trampled by Jake.

"Relax man, I'm about to pay for your car to get washed," he said, shoving Bradley out of the way to get over to the redhead holding a hose. "Hey, sweetheart, my name's Jake...."

Bradley headed in the opposite direction, cradling his forehead in his hand. The last thing he wanted was to try to chat up some nineteen year old. He was almost thirty seven, for fuck's sake. But if they wanted to humiliate themselves, that was fine with him. But it didn't mean he needed to watch.

He thought he had found a nice spot to stand and wait while listening to a car stereo blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. He was out of the way of the guys who were being roped in to helping the girls wash cars now. Jake's shirt was mysteriously missing, and Payback was spraying the hose while a few of the girls screamed.

"Grown ass men," Bradley muttered, pushing his aviators up higher on his nose.

He heard soft laughter and turned to see you standing next to him. And of course you were gorgeous. And young. And looking up at him with a smirk that he should not have found adorable.

"Yeah, well, the deans at the college are always amazed by how much money our car wash fundraisers make every summer," you said, smiling at him. He found himself smiling back.

"My friends almost made me wreck trying to get me to pull over, so I guess that does make sense," Bradley replied with a nod. You were the only one on the team who was still dry, and he could see the straps of your bathing suit tied above the collar of your USD Softball tee shirt. You had on some tiny denim shorts and flip flops, and Bradley bit back a groan and forced himself to look away from you.

"Your friends look like a bit of a handful," you told him. Bradley was treated to the sight of Coyote dancing to the music in the spray of the water.

"Just show them women in bathing suits, and this is what they turn into." You were laughing and gaping up at him, as Bradley quickly added, "They're harmless though! I promise! Your teammates have nothing to worry about! They just like to flirt."

"Teammates?" you asked, head cocked to one side.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, really trying so hard not to look directly at you. Fuck, this was getting difficult. He could tell that your bathing suit was red through your snug fitting white tee shirt, and now he was looking at your chest. He pinched the bridge of his nose over his sunglasses and rolled his shoulders, trying to focus on the dirt being rinsed off a filthy car. "Your teammates? Uh, are you a senior? Or team captain or something?"

Your laughter rang out as you said, "No, not exactly."

"Oh. Uh, what position do you play?" He knew he was rambling now. Really, he should just get out of here.

"I used to play third base."

And now Bradley was biting his knuckle, because he was thinking about getting to third base with you, unzipping those little shorts in the backseat of his Bronco and slipping his hand inside. "Oh god," he swallowed hard. He was worse than the rest of the guys who were currently covered in soapy water and surrounded by softball players.

"I'm their coach."

Bradley froze, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "You're the coach? The softball coach?"

"Yeah. They're not my teammates."

Bradley turned to face you and let his eyes drift down your body and back up to your face. You did look a little older than twenty two. And that's probably why you weren't actively washing the cars. He must have been staring for too long, because you were smirking again as you held out your hand and introduced yourself. "Head coach of USD women's softball."

He took your smaller hand in his. "My name is Bradley, and I'm really hoping you're going to tell me you're like twenty eight years old?"

"I'm thirty," you said slowly, still holding his hand and looking at him with a confused smile.

"Even better," he said, smiling happily and pulling you a little closer by your hand. "So, you played third base? Which school?"

"University of Oregon."

"Shit. You must be good."

"I'm very good," you told him, and Bradley squeezed your hand a little tighter.

"I'll bet you are."

"Do you play?" you asked, really sizing him up now.

"Yeah, just on a Navy rec league. But I'm very good, too."

"Bet I can guess which position you play," you told him before you bit your lip, and Bradley swore he was never going to let go of your hand.

"Okay. Go ahead and guess."

"But...if I'm right, you owe me a drink," you said coyly.

Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "Then you better fucking get this right."

With a bright laugh, you told him, "You look like a shortstop."

"Damn. You are good."

"I'm right?" you asked, and he nodded. "You owe me a drink."

Bradley took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and your smile grew. "Listen, as soon as you told me you're not a student, I was absolutely going to ask you out. So all you did was make it easier for me."

You pressed your lips together in pleasure, and it was so adorable. "You're still holding my hand."

"I know," he confirmed with a nod. "When are you free? Tomorrow?"

You licked your lips. "I'm coaching a game tomorrow, Bradley. You know, since I'm not a student."

He smirked at the way you were sassing him before asking, "Is it home or away?"

"Home. At USD."

"You gonna invite me to watch?" he asked, and you looked so damn pleased with yourself now.

"Would you be coming just to ogle the players?" you asked, nodding toward the soaking wet women who were now spraying the hose at Payback. "You know they wear their uniforms to the games instead of bathing suits, right?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at you playfully. "It's much more likely that I'd be ogling their coach."

"Oh, I like that," you told him. "You can come then. And we can get that drink afterwards?"

"Absolutely," Bradley said, and he finally released your hand as he added, "Can I get your number?"

"Mmhmm."

He retrieved his phone from his pocket, unlocked it and handed it to you. He watched you enter your contact information, and then you handed it back to him, letting your fingers linger on his. "Text me later today, and I'll send you a ticket to the game."

"Sounds good, coach. I can't wait."

You glanced to the side and then met his eyes again. "It looks like your car's done. And your friends look like an actual disaster."

Bradley groaned as he saw the three of them getting the soap hosed off so they could leave. "Yeah, let me go babysit them for the afternoon. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will." And then you put your hand on his chest and kissed his cheek before you turned away to help one of your players who was calling for your attention.

Bradley tucked his phone away and watched you as he made his way toward the Bronco. You waved to him and he smiled back before turning to assess his three sopping wet friends.

"Rooster, you idiot!" Coyote said, dripping water on the pavement. "You just stood there like a lump, man."

"We got phone numbers," Jake drawled, holding his wet phone while Bradley snorted.

"Yeah, we did," Payback said, high fiving Jake. "And we're going to meet up with Sylvia and Taylor later tonight at a bar on their campus."

Bradley just shook his head. "Wring out your shirts and get in the Bronco. Nat's already going to kill us, I hope you know that."

"Worth it," the three of them said in unison. And while Bradley waited for them to dry off a bit, he sent you a text.

Can't wait for tomorrow.

And right before he pulled out of the parking lot, you wrote back.

XOXO

And there was a ticket to the USD softball game for tomorrow afternoon attached.

"Hey, what the fuck?" Jake said as Bradley drove down the road toward the beach. He had his phone to his ear as he added, "Taylor gave me a bogus phone number!"

Payback scrambled to unlock his phone, and a second later, he had it on speaker. "Oops, it looks like the person who gave you this number is not actually interested in you! Better luck next time!"

"Damn," Coyote said, completely crestfallen. "Sylvia gave us a bogus number, too."

"I spent fifty bucks to get this thing washed for nothing!" Jake complained, gesturing around the Bronco.

"I can't believe we all struck out today," Payback whined. "We should have just stopped at In-N-Out."

Bradley bit his lip and shook with silent laughter. "Yeah, you all struck out. What a shame." But he was already thinking about where he was going to take you out for a second date.

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

The way Rooster flirts, just holy shit. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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lilacs-stars · 1 month

Text

shattered reflections

pairing: morgie le fay x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is merlin's daughter) SUMMARY: you, the perfect child and student, have always been the epitome of righteousness. but what happens when you encounter a particularly annoying VK one night, when you're out doing something you're not supposed to? GENRE: pure, unbridled, heart-wrenching angst (I recommend a box of tissues), action scenes, some light humor, a bit of comfort, flirty banter CW: absent mother, neglectful father, family troubles, cursing, magical fighting, a bit of blood, threats, mentions of violence and stealing, heavy emotions WC: 15.2k (to those of you hungry for morgie fics…you have been fed) BACKGROUND: the mirror of ytirev is pronounced yih-tur-ev, the spells are all in latin (for anyone wondering)

A/N: this got a loooot longer and deeper than I thought it would...seriously how did we get here. I had fun adding some touches of light humor to offset the angst, and experimenting with different pov's was nice too. sooo go get comfy and settle down, and have fun reading this! (the ending is worth it I swear). thank you to the anon who requested this for all the details, I hope you enjoy! all feedback is highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts and reactions!

A piercing clatter sounds from somewhere behind you. You whip around, eyes locking with snake-like slits glowing in the dark.

Shit, you think.

They finally discovered my secret.

“…can anyone explain to me the properties of goblin mucus?” the teacher of your Magical Artifacts and Antiquities class asks.

A hand shoots up, causing a smile to spread on her face as she calls on the student—only to be met with the reply, “Miss, it says in our textbook that there’s a highly powerful and dangerous artifact stored here, in Merlin Academy. What’s that all about?”

The teacher’s smile falters for a brief second, but she answers the question regardless. “Yes, every class today has asked me about that. It seems like it’s only the dangerous objects that attract students’ attention. Class, turn to page two hundred seventy-five, where there is a more detailed explanation.”

Everyone flips through the pages of their books, more eager to learn than they’ve been for the entire lesson. Your teacher waits a moment before continuing.

“As it says in your textbooks, the Mirror of Ytirev is indeed kept in this school, although it is locked away in a very safe and secure place. For everyone’s safety, and the Mirror’s security. Now, can anyone tell me how it was created?”

You raise your hand swiftly, already knowing the answer from having read this chapter before it was even covered in class, along with the next three chapters. “After the creator of the Evil Queen’s magic mirror originally made it, he accidentally dropped it on the floor, causing it to shatter. He reconstructed the mirror using the larger shards, which became the famed mirror that eventually ended up in the hands of the Evil Queen. But there were still many miniscule fragments left from the first mirror, so he melted them again and made a smaller, weaker version of the Evil Queen's mirror. The small mirror is known today as the Mirror of Ytirev.”

Your teacher beams again at your perfect recitation. “That is precisely correct, Y/N. Although I don’t expect anything less from the headmaster’s daughter, of course.

“This mirror has the ability to show its user exactly one truth, an answer to any question. But since its original form was shattered, its magic is no longer stable. That’s why it is covered in this chapter,” she continues to the class. “As you can see in the image in your textbook, it is a portable artifact, putting it in Category D, Type Three.”

You look down at your textbook, studying the picture of the mirror, despite having looked at it before. It depicts a vintage handheld mirror, encased in a detailed and ornate silver frame that surrounds the glass itself. The intricate carvings of the metal create symmetrical twin arches at the top of the mirror, ending in fancy loops. In these arches two bright red gemstones are set, their edges cleanly cut and shining brilliantly. The glass of the mirror looks almost cracked, although you know it isn't really.

Just as the thought passes through your mind, someone calls out, “Why is the mirror cracked? I thought the creator fixed it.”

The answer pops up in your brain before the teacher even opens her mouth, but you still patiently listen to her as she explains to the rest of the class. “It’s not really cracked, it just appears that way to anyone who looks at it. The only time someone can see the mirror’s smooth surface is if they’re staring directly in the eyes of their own reflection. When someone does this, it is rumored they will see the truest form of themselves, the truth they desire the most.”

Someone else raises their hand, and the teacher calls on them this time. “So,” they ask, “you can get the answer to anything from that? Like how to become rich or live forever?”

The teacher masks what you can tell is a rather displeased look with yet another—fake—smile. She turns to face the entire class, a telltale sign that the student said something wrong. “Now, as we all know, there’s always a price to magic. When it comes to this mirror, due to its unstable powers, there are many prices.”

She continues her lecture, one that provides you with absolutely no new information, but being the ever-diligent student you are, you continue to listen intently. “If you look at the next page, it explains that anyone who wishes to use the Mirror must first present an offering that is very dear to them. If the Mirror accepts the offering, it allows the person to ask their question.” “And if it doesn’t?” your classmate asked.

“Does anyone know the answer to that?” The teacher looks around the class, before her eyes land on you. “Y/N?”

You brighten up at being called on, before rattling off the information as if it was common knowledge. “If the Mirror doesn’t accept the offering, or if it becomes displeased for any other reason, it will drag the person’s soul not to enlightenment, but to eternal torment. They will end up losing their mind and going crazy, with any form of intelligent life getting absorbed by the Mirror.”

“Correct again,” your teacher praises, and you beam. “And if that's not enough to ward any of you off, keep in mind that everyone who has ever used the Mirror has gone completely mad. No one has ever obtained the answer they sought; instead, they were all lost to its evil spirit. And let me assure you, many people throughout history have attempted to use the Mirror, only to fail. Therefore, it was voted as too dangerous for any beneficial uses by the Department of Magical Security. That is why it is contained here, under the watchful eye of our very own Headmaster Merlin.”

At the mention of your father, everyone turns to stare at you, as if you’re somehow the reason the Mirror is locked up. Despite the stifling moment of silence, you shrug off the unwanted attention. After all, you’re used to this. Used to the looks that other kids give you when you receive special attention from teachers for being the smartest one, for always raising your hand, for answering questions perfectly, for acing every test and having every homework assignment completed—yet refusing to share your answers (“But if I tell you the answers, how will you ever learn?”).

Used to the whispers that follow you everywhere you go, rumors of your family life; how your mother must have left because of your father’s bad habits, or neglect, or because she was having an affair with another man. Constant reminders of the past.

Used to how everyone walks on eggshells around you, how they all put you on a ledge far away from them. How people’s conversations quiet as you pass by, afraid you’ll go and report them to your father at the slightest whiff of mischief. How they always eye you when they pass notes in class or plan a prank—as if you weren't already aware of what they were doing—sometimes even begging you not to tell on them.

Used to how teachers and adults in your life expect the absolute best of you. Even when there’s no more left of yourself to give.

How they expect you to be the absolute best, a paragon of righteousness. You always have to determine the right decision, make the right call, be the epitome of morality and virtue. This is your burden to bear, all by yourself; instead of worries over bad grades or boys, you suffer under the crushing weight of the expectations of everyone around you. The expectations of society.

Briiiiiiingg! The sound of the bell marking the end of class snaps you out of your musings. “Um, Miss?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the sounds of everyone packing their bags.

“You didn’t tell us what our homework assignment is for tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me, Y/N,” the teacher exclaims amidst a chorus of groans, along with a few colorful words directed your way. “Everyone, please finish up chapter three and be prepared to turn in your report on seventh century runes by the start of tomorrow’s class.”

After all, you’re used to how right they are about you.

…Or so they think.

“Oh good, Y/N! I was looking for you all over, you know,” a panting, all-too familiar voice calls out from behind you. You freeze in your tracks, grimacing. After a deep breath, you paint a smile on your face, before turning around.

A tall man, although much shorter due to his slouched posture, hurries towards you animatedly. His short, dark brown hair is matted against the top of his head, and a thick, bushy beard trails down from his chin, rounding above his mouth in a matching mustache. He dons a pair of thin spectacles that hang low on his large nose, dressed in a dark blue robe with faint golden embroidery and a waistcoat to match. A little brown stick juts out from a hidden pocket inside his robe, an object you can only assume to be his wand—which you are quite shocked he hadn’t lost today yet.

“Dad!” you say as enthusiastically as you can muster, but if anyone had been looking closely, they would have seen the way you ever so slightly cringe as he stumbles towards you. You silently thank the heavens that this man doesn’t pay much attention to anything. Not even to his own family.

Merlin clambers towards you, gripping one of your shoulders once you’re within arm’s length. He pants, leaning his weight on you as he catches his breath.

“Dad, what is it?” you ask him, trying your best not to fall over from supporting him.

“I-I…k-keys,” he wheezes.

“You lost your keys?” This certainly isn't the first time he’s come to you with this problem, and you definitely won't bet it'll be his last.

He nods, clutching his chest as his breathing finally evens out. “Phew,” he says, letting go of your shoulder. “My spare keys to my office…I can’t seem to find where I’ve put them.”

“You mean that big ring that has a copy of about every single key needed to unlock absolutely anything in this school?” you ask, incredulous at the way he nods feverishly. Honestly, how he doesn’t see the issue with what you just plainly pointed out is beyond you.

“Nope, haven’t seen them,” you reply. “Have you checked under the counter? Inside your desk drawers? In the little pockets sewn in the other pockets in all of your robes? On top of a clothing rack? Under the vase of orchids? In the fish bowl? In the left sock from your pair that has those reindeers on them?”

He nods at each one, sometimes hesitating as if recalling something deep in his memory , but then continuing to fervently nod nonetheless. You sigh again. “Well, I don’t know then. I suppose you’ve found someplace new to hide them this time.”

“Hmm…” he mutters, scratching his beard.

“Well, Dad, I don’t know if you heard, but I, uh, I made top student of my year last quarter. For the fifth consecutive time,” you mention, trying to ease into the conversation, albeit very tentatively and with great unease. Most people’s parents would applaud them and give them a prize for merely getting an A. Yours, on the other hand, barely remembers which grade you’re in.

Your father snaps his head up, staring at you with an eccentric haze in his eyes. You feel a small glimmer of hope; maybe he’s going to give you a pat on the back this time, or perhaps offer to take you out for a celebratory dinner. You wait for his response, completely still as if frozen in time, anticipation buzzing throughout every nerve.

“Wait…I believe I put it in the mouth of that owl statue…” He freezes erratically, brow furrowed in deep concentration, before releasing the tension in his body and going back to slumping. “No, I think I already checked there.”

You take a nice, long, deep breath, using up every last ounce of your carefully practiced self-control, which you had perfected through years of deploying in stifling social situations that made you want to crawl out of your own skin, to remain calm in this moment. “Well, I hope you find it.” Giving him one last attempt at even a semblance of a smile, you sharply turn back around on your heel, continuing down the hall to your first class of the day.

Watching the early morning rays of sunshine through the tall windows of the corridor, you think back to the discussion you had yesterday in your Artifacts class. You had answered every question correctly, every fact written in ink not only committed to memory but etched into the very foundation of your brain.

You wonder if he knows of all the hard work you put into school. All the grueling hours you spend studying, all the sleepless nights you spend fighting against your body’s very nature to stay awake and keep your eyes open just enough to read the page. Heck, you wonder if he even remembers that your birthday is coming up next month—or that you gave him your wish list ages ago to ensure that he gets at least one present you asked for, unlike other years.

No, of course he doesn’t remember, you remind yourself. He doesn’t care about me. He never did.

Just like he didn’t care about Mom when she disappeared.

“Ugh, my nail chipped again. I should find the girl who did these and squeeze her to death.”

A tentacle floating in midair tightens and coils around nothingness, miming the strangulation of an innocent soul with a disturbing nonchalance. A girl with dark skin and long locks in colors such as blue, teal, and yellow, done up in a small bunch on top of her head, checks the painted nails on her left hand with a scowl on her face.

“Come on, Uli, you’re getting your nails done like, every week,” the god of the Underworld replies, indifference practically seeping through his spiked leather jacket as he chews gum and gives the sea witch a look. “At least find yourself someone better.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Uliana snaps, dropping her hand exasperatedly as she huffs.

A sorceress with purple eyeshadow and two sleek, black horns protruding from the sides of her head rolls her eyes as she complains, “This is so boring.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do then, love?” a crisply accented voice asks, sounding from a boy with neatly parted brown hair and a golden hook that ends in a sharp, gleaming point.

“Did you hear that there’s a, like, super dangerous magical object being kept here?” Maleficent asks, somehow keeping her voice incredibly monotonous and deathly uninterested, even as her words themselves convey enthusiasm.

“Yeah, apparently it can tell anyone anything they want to know,” Hades replies. “I don’t know why they’re keeping it here, though.”

Uliana turns back to the group, a malicious glint in her eye. Even before she opens her mouth, the boy with powers rather similar to those of a snake can already guess what she’s going to say.

“How about we go steal it?” she asks, a wicked grin already twisting onto her features.

“You do realize that everyone who’s ever used it has gone mad, right?” Hook asks, raising his eyebrows incredulously as he gives Uliana a look of disbelief.

“We won’t use it ourselves, idiot,” she snaps. “But it’ll be fun to steal it and cause a panic. Right, Morgie?”

Morgie swallows, looking up at Uliana with wide eyes. “Of course! C’mon, you guys. Think of the mischief we can cause with it! We can make people think some kids used it and went crazy”—he leans in, excitement growing as he speaks, making wide gestures with his hands—“and everyone would be so scared! They’d probably cancel school, too!”

Uliana grins diabolically again. “Morgie, honey,” she starts, slipping one of her tentacles under his chin, lifting his face up towards her. “How about you do this one?”

“I-I, uh…” he stammers, uncertainty laced in his voice. He definitely wasn't expecting this turn of events.

“Come on, please,” Uliana pouts. “Do it for me? After all, you’re only stealing a little mirror. How hard can that be?”

Morgie glances up at her again, before tugging uncomfortably on the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “But…it’s super dangerous…”

“Don’t you want to be evil? Don't you want to wreak havoc and cause pain?” Uliana taunts. “Or, are you”—she lets out a faux gasp—“afraid?”

“N-no, not at all!" Morgie exclaims, trying to sound more courageous than he feels. “I’ll do it!”

“Perfect,” the sea witch coos, removing her tentacle arm. “You’ll do it tonight.” She turns back to the group, adding, “I hear that old troll keeps the most dangerous and evil artifacts locked up in a room off the east wing, on the third level.”

Morgie gulps, already trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’d be doing the heist tonight. Hook, jumping off a ledge, asks, “You mean the one guarded by different spells and magical alarms?”

Uliana grins wickedly. “Nothing a little bit of Kraken Powder can’t fix.” She holds up a small vial hanging from a string around her neck like a necklace. It's common knowledge how incredibly rare Kraken Powder is, which makes sense, given how potent its anti-magic properties are.

Everyone catches on to what Uliana's implying, causing the group to all laugh together at their evil plan. Morgie tries his best to join along, but he can’t quite seem to get rid of the uneasy knot already forming in the pit of his stomach.

“You remember the plan?”

Uliana’s slippery tentacles glisten under the moonlight, flailing around behind her in midair. Morgie nods, attempting to still his quivering hands before Uliana notices them. He tries, with a miserable sense of impending doom, to swallow the lump in his throat, but to no avail.

“Here, I stole these from Merlin’s office,” Uliana explains as one of her tentacles drops a large ring filled with probably around two dozen keys, each in various shapes and colors, straight into Morgie's open palm. “One of these has to fit the door. You didn’t forget what you need to do, right?”

Morgie clears his throat, choking out a meager, “Yep.” He pockets the keys, seriously hoping they don’t clink together and make too much noise while he moves. As Uliana already repeated a hundred times, “It’s crucial you don’t get caught.”

Morgie reaches up to touch the vial hanging from his neck yet again, making sure it’s still there—after all, better safe than sorry. Once more, he glances at the large grandfather clock in the common area where he and Uliana lurk in the shadows, waiting. Finally, its bells chime midnight, and Uliana turns back to him as the ringing reverberates around them.

“Go, hurry!” the sea witch urges, pushing him toward the door with a tentacle.

Morgie nods, hurriedly rushing to the exit. The first part of the plan—a plan he so diligently committed to memory—is for him to sneak out while the bells are still ringing, to mask the sound of the door opening and closing. Thankfully, he makes it out by the tenth chime, carefully closing the door to make sure the latch doesn’t sound by the eleventh.

Okay, I’m really doing this, Morgie thinks as he stares into the deserted corridor. He tiptoes around silently, but still as quickly as possible. Time is, obviously, of utmost importance in missions like this.

At last, he reaches his destination. The unassuming—and misleadingly so—wooden door looms over him, ominous through the lens of his knowledge of what lies beyond it.

An amateur villain would simply pick the lock and open the door, but Morgie is too experienced in such endeavors to make a rookie mistake like that (Uliana told him what to do, step-by-step).

He hovers his hand above the lock, taking a steadying breath as he summons the powers that reside within him. His pupils shrink into the tiniest slivers of blackness as a dark, magical smoke emits from his palm. He makes a faint hissing noise, reciting an old incantation in a tongue far different from what normal humans use, and the lock softly clicks as the door creaks open. Practically inviting him inside.

Morgie pushes it open the rest of the way, making sure to shut it behind him so as to not raise the suspicion of any night guards roaming the halls.

He turns back around, now faced with a dark, menacing hallway. Walking slowly down it, he looks around with a chilling captivation. Old suits of armor leer down at him, rustic and each coated with a thick layer of dust. Large spiderwebs cover every visible nook and cranny, which makes Morgie exceedingly grateful that the actual spiders aren't in his line of sight.

At the end of the corridor stands yet another large door, matching the first. This one, according to Uliana, has even more security than the other. Time to use my secret weapon, Morgie thinks, reaching to pull the vial of Kraken Powder out from under his shirt. He opens the cap and sprinkles a little of the finely grained dust into his palm, then blows it over the lock of the door.

At first glance, it appears the powder didn’t work, as nothing seem to change. But anyone with an affinity for magical energy can feel the spells placed on the lock of the door melt away without a trace. After the door is unarmed, Morgie fishes in his pocket for the keys. They clang horribly as he pulls them out, echoing up into the tall ceiling of the hallway. He freezes, listening intently for footsteps somewhere outside. When he hears none, Morgie begins the task of figuring out which key fits the lock.

He goes through nearly half the ring (Seriously, who keeps all their keys in one place?) before finding the one that fits perfectly. Twisting it with a swift movement, the door unlocks, and he creeps inside.

To his immense shock, there isn't a room behind the door filled with evil objects or piled with gold coins. Instead, there’s a…

…library?

Morgie walks inside, utterly confused. Had Uliana gotten the location wrong? No, there's no way. The doors were too guarded for a normal library.

He continues down one of the aisles, wondering why he's never seen this place before. It is extremely large, with arched ceilings meters and meters above his head. Tall bookshelves tower over him, so tall that he can barely see the highest shelves.

Lined against the walls and placed on the shelves are also glass jars and containers filled with seemingly normal items: a seashell necklace, a deck of playing cards, a cane with the head of a snake. But there's something sinister about them; some strange aura that hovers above each object. In fact, it fills the entire expanse of the library.

Morgie stops by one of the shelves, reading the titles. He brushes his fingers along one of the spines—and that’s when he feels it. An ominous energy rushes through his fingertips, electrifying his every nerve at it travels through him, causing him to realize that this is no normal book. It’s a book of dark magic.

He spins around in a circle, eyeing the entirety of the library. Now that he thinks about it, the whole place has the heavy atmosphere of dark magic. And that’s when it hits him: this is no normal library, and neither are the books. This is the room of forbidden artifacts. It just so happens that most of those artifacts are books, probably containing content deemed too dangerous for normal people to learn.

Morgie briefly considers taking a few of the books off the shelves and perusing through them, or maybe even slipping a couple in his jacket and taking them back with him. After all, all these forbidden books must have countless evil spells and potions. If he and the rest of his group got their hands on these…

However, after a moment of serious consideration, he decides the better of it. He's here for another purpose, and Uliana would be outraged if he only came back with a few meager books, no matter the contents.

Continuing through the labyrinth of shelves, Morgie looks around meticulously, trying to figure out a rhyme or reason to the order of things. No student has ever been in here, and he doubts many of the teachers have, either. Therefore, there were no references or guides to help him and his friends figure out where in the room the Mirror is located. Plus, he doesn’t think any of them had expected the place to be so colossal—he surely hadn't.

After a few minutes of stumbling around in the near darkness, he finally comes across a ladder leaning against one of the shelves. It’s so tall he can’t see the top of it, but deciding it’s his best chance at finding his bearings, Morgie begins the long climb up.

He isn’t really afraid of heights. Not in the way that some people refuse to go on anything more than a few feet off the ground. But he honestly doesn’t see how anyone couldn’t feel at least a little queasy at the high altitude. I must be a dozen meters off the ground, Morgie realizes as he glances down. I wonder what would happen if I fell—

He cuts the thought off before he can imagine the gruesome details. Instead, he looks back up and around the library. From all the way up here, he can see the top of the shelves, and he really was right: this place was designed to be a maze.

On the far side of the area, his eyes spot lots of glass cases reflecting the soft moonlight and flames of enchanted candles. That must be where most of the objects are kept. Chances are, the Mirror’s there too.

He mentally charts out a course through the labyrinth, trying to remember the directions for more than two seconds. Right, left, left again, forward, right, right again, left, forward—or wait, was it right? After a few minutes, he climbs back down the ladder, praying to the demons of the Underworld that he remembers the path correctly and doesn’t get lost.

Morgie makes his way through the maze, growing more and more fascinated by the creepy and wonderful objects around him. He can’t stop thinking about how nice—and useful—it would be to pocket some of them, or maybe come back here and spend more time studying them. Every time he passes by something that intrigues him, his mind immediately wonders if it would fit inside his clothes.

Despite this, he resists the urge to steal things, as he can’t have anything weighing him down in case there are more challenges or enchantments he has to disarm before getting the Mirror. But perhaps on the way back…

His train of thought drifts away as he finally reaches a large area that is surrounded by glass cases, on tables and lining the shelves set into the walls. He never imagined there would be so many forbidden artifacts in total, much less in one place, although maybe that's because he's never really paid attention in class.

From the top of a shelf a few meters away, something catches his eye. A mysterious, eerie white fog pours from one of the highest shelves, dissipating as it cascades down the front of the bookcase. He remembers hearing something about mist related to the Mirror, and deciding it’s worth a shot, he moves closer to check it out.

And that’s when he sees it.

A dark flurry of movement from another one of the top shelves catches his attention. Morgie snaps his head up, brows furrowing as he squints, eyes trailing the structures above him. But he can’t quite make out anything, at least not in the faint light, so he hesitantly shrugs it off and continues towards the mysterious fog—albeit not being able to shake off the strange feeling he has that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He takes a few more steps, and just as he's nearly convinced himself he’s only being paranoid, it happens again. Now that he’s closer, he can see there’s another tall ladder reaching up to around where the movement is happening, close to the Mirror. This time, his eyes register the shape.

A dark, human figure moves up the ladder, blending in and out of the shadows.

Morgie’s eyes grow wide, pupils shrinking back into snake-like slits as a reptilian hiss escapes his mouth. There shouldn't be anyone else here.

The figure freezes in place before turning around to face him, hanging halfway up the ladder. Although Morgie can’t see their face, concealed by a thick black hood, he can tell they saw him.

He stretches out his arms, summoning black magic that swirls around his hands and up to his elbows again. After but a second of him and the hooded figure staring at each other—which somehow felt like an hour—Morgie throws his arm forward, aimed for the figure.

A ball of twisting dark energy shoots from his hand and towards the hooded face. The figure ducks down, dodging the attack. Undeterred, Morgie hurls more swirls of dark magic. The figure dodges the first few of them, but they must have realized that merely ducking down won't be enough to win this fight, because they summon a shield of buzzing yellow electricity to block the next few attacks.

Morgie quickly becomes aware that he isn’t winning the fight like this; he needs a new strategy. And that’s when he spots it.

He puts his hands close together in front of his chest, gathering a potent sphere of black magic between his palms. The figure stands there, motionless, still hanging onto the ladder.

If you can’t knock them down, pull the carpet out from under their feet.

He thrusts both of his hands forward, sending the ball of magic not at the figure, but at the base of the ladder instead. By the time they realize what he's doing, it’s too late.

Morgie’s magic collides with the bottom rungs, exploding the material and sending wooden splinters flying everywhere. He watches as the figure falls, swiftly summoning a flash of lightning below them as they plummet, easing the crash as they hit the ground.

The aftermath of the explosion has Morgie ducking down and covering his face with his arm, barely being able to make out what happened to the hooded person. As the dust finally settles, Morgie spots the figure get up, gripping their head as if in pain. They stumble a little, then bush off their black robe as they check for other injuries.

As if abruptly remembering why they had fallen, they spin around to face Morgie. He stares, wide-eyed in pure disbelief, as the figure comes face-to-face with him. Even though they don’t seem to be too hurt, and definitely still alive, the force of the impact caused their hood to be knocked off their head.

Morgie’s mouth drops open as he registers the figure’s face.

There, in front of him, in the forbidden archive harboring some of the world's most dangerously powerful magical objects during the dead of night, stands the headmaster’s daughter.

Your grimace grows as you lock eyes with a boy with light brown hair, hazel eyes shrunk into slits resembling a snake’s, causing your head to throb even worse.

You watch as the realization dawns upon the boy’s face, cursing the skies for this little issue that you now have to deal with.

He knows your secret.

“Y-you, you, you’re the headmaster’s daughter,” he sputters out, disbelief still painted on his face, as clear as day. Seriously, if he keeps his jaw open like that, it’ll fall off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you spit back, not paying much attention to his stunned little face. Your mind is overwhelmed with a swirling whirlwind of thoughts and ideas on how to get rid of this new liability, each plan vying for your attention, each one crueler than the last.

After all, now that he knows who you really are, how you're not a rule-abiding goody-goody, there’s no point in keeping up your sweet, innocent facade. You finally let your mask slip off, the mask that you wear constantly in the presence of others. The mask that you only relieve yourself of when you’re all alone, with no one to see your callous, vindictive, cynical side. Your true side.

Ever since that day, at least. The day that forever changed your life.

“What are you doing here?” the boy stammers, as if it isn't already dreadfully obvious.

“The same thing you’re doing here.” “How do you know what I’m doing here?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Honestly, this kid could not be more of a dunderhead. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Either get out of my way, or I’ll make you get out of my way.”

At your threat, the boy, whose name you happen to remember from a class you took with him last year, changes his stance. Morgie widens his legs, arms fanned out besides him whilst summoning dark energy that clings to his skin, alive and breathing, yet submissive to its master’s will.

“Aren’t you like, a goody-goody?” he asks, face still scrunched in confusion. “I’ve heard teachers go on and on about how good your grades are, how polite you are, how you’re the perfect student.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed at his relentless questions. It 's already bad enough that he knows this much. You don't need him finding out more.

“Well, looks can be deceiving,” you respond as vaguely as possible, hoping that it’ll shut him up. Instead, he cocks his head to the side, shooting back, “I don’t really think so.”

You try your best to not encourage him and his irritating questions, but you can’t help but begrudgingly ask, “How so?”

Morgie looks at you for a beat with an intent gaze, before replying, “I always thought you were too pretty for a hero.”

Uh, excuse me, what? you think. Now it’s your turn to be shocked. “You don’t find me scary?” You had always assumed that people would be terrified if they saw your real, unfiltered side.

“No, not really. I mean, I’m evil too. If anything, I find you even hotter now that I know you’re not a goody-goody.”

Blinking hard, your eyebrows shoot into the air. There is no way he just said that. Your mind is uncontrollably reeling at his words, but only for a brief moment. Before you can read too deeply into it, your attention is quickly snapped back to the black magic still swirling around him, growing by the second. Ah, a ploy to distract me. Maybe he is more clever than he lets on.

“Listen, Morgie,” you snarl threateningly. “That mirror is mine.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Mirror too?” he asks, with far too light a tone for a situation such as this.

“Th-that was obvious the whole time!” you exclaim, unbelievably irritated. “What did you think I was here for?” “I dunno, a book or something.” He shrugs casually, before narrowing his eyes. “Wait, what do you want the Mirror for?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap back, fingers thrumming with the rush of energy as you summon your own magic. Letting your curiosity get the better of you yet again, you add, “Why do you want it?”

“I’m a villain. I steal things for fun,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What does a goody-two-shoes hero want to do with a forbidden artifact?”

Barely listening to his words, you study him carefully, needing to know the extent of his powers if you’re going to win the inevitable fight that you can sense coming. You see how his ever-growing dark magic stalls temporarily as he talks, probably from getting distracted while speaking. That’s it. Deciding to buy yourself some time, you use this little weakness to your advantage.

“I want the Mirror because I want to use it.” Even though you’re planning on entertaining his pointless questions, you definitely aren’t going to give him information for free.

“Use it? To get an answer?” His magic hesitates again.

“No, to look at myself.” You see the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you’re pretty sure you’re about to implode. “Of course to get an answer, you dumbass! Unlike you, I don’t go risking my life ‘for fun.’”

“What are you even going to use as an offering? You have to give it something, you know.”

You sigh, reaching underneath your shirt to pull out a small silver locket, its chain blackened from the trials of time. Dangling it from your fingers, you show it to Morgie.

“A locket?” he asks incredulously. “The offering's supposed to be something really special or precious.”

“It is really precious,” you hiss, tucking it back into your shirt. “It’s the most precious thing I own. If anything’s going to make the Mirror work, it’s this.”

“Well, you’re not going to get the Mirror anyways. It’s mine.” He widens his stance again, his magic continuing to grow around him. No, I need a little more time, you think, masking your growing panic with an insouciant eye roll.

“Why?” you question. “You’re not even going to use it.”

“I still need it.” “But why?”

“I won’t tell you if you won’t tell me!” he exclaims. Despite his little outburst, you can tell there’s something he’s hiding. After all, you are a master of concealing the truth yourself. “Plus, you know that everyone who's ever used the mirror has gone crazy, right? You’re literally sentencing yourself to a life of madness.” You give him an unamused look. “I’m the top of our year. Obviously I know everything there is to know about the Mirror of Ytirev.”

He gazes at you in a way you can’t decipher, but it’s softer, more sympathetic than his former glare. You notice that his snake eyes have disappeared as well, despite the magical energy still surrounding him. “Then why are you still doing this, despite the risks?”

You falter, for just a second, letting a sliver of emotion slip through. But as quickly as it happened, you patch it back up, returning to your cold, glowering face. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.” You expect him to drop it after that, but he continues to press you. “You’re prepared to give up your morals? Your status as a hero? You’re willing to lose all your integrity for one answer?”

God, he talks too much. With a sniff, you throw your hands out in front of you, releasing a bright flash of crackling electricity that had been building up as you cry out, “I don’t care how evil I have to become, I will find the truth, one way or another!”

The lightning shoots forward without warning, hot as an inferno, piercing straight through his chest and flinging him backwards into a shelf like a ragdoll. He falls down to his knees, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to get up again. Clutching his chest, he wheezes yet still manages to stand up, summoning wispy black tendrils that shoot at you like arrows.

You tuck and roll, dodging them, whilst building up more crackling lightning between your fingers. The last tendril hits far too close to you for comfort, burning a hole in your robe. That would have been my flesh, had it hit me, you realize in sudden horror.

Seeing as how your opponent is summoning even more dark magic to hit you with, now engulfing his entire body, you break into a sprint. Black spears collide with the shelves behind you one after another, barely missing you, as you run past glass cases, each containing a different artifact that glistens in the silver moonlight. Something across the arena seizes your attention, and a plan begins to piece itself together in your head. You continue your dash towards the shelves behind Morgie. Once you reach a section with books instead of random magical objects, you slow your pace. Amidst Morgie's unrelenting attacks, you create a golden shield of electricity that sparks and crackles, almost alive, and which reaches as tall as you. You jog past the shelves, head craned as you scan the book titles as quickly as possible.

Morgie persists in launching balls of dark magic directly at you, smashing into your shield. Your panic rises as cracks begin to form, at first only small fissures, but growing larger and larger with each sphere that pummels your way.

You run parallel to the shelf, which boxes in the rest of the area in a rectangular shape, eyes frantically darting over words with barely enough time for your brain to comprehend them.

Glancing up as a whorl of blackness blasts the books resting directly in front of you, you duck down, yet continue to run. That’s when you see a thick tome, larger than the others and bearing a dark red cover, jutting out from a shelf a few meters in front of you. With your magical shield barely staying intact, you lunge towards it, snatching the book as you fall towards the ground and somersault behind a desk-sized wooden stand to hide. On top of it stands a glass display case, with faint candlelight illuminating the rustic, yet enchanted, metal shield contained inside it.

You crouch down, flipping through the pages of the book desperately, trying to find the incantation you know has to be in there. One time, on one of your random visits to the library—the normal one, not this hell of the most cursed items in the land—you had picked up a text that talked about the history of spellcasting. Detailed inside was a description of one of the first books of curses ever written, which had been banned from production shortly after its release due to the nature of its contents. There had been a small sketch next to the explanation, which just so happens to match the tome now weighing in your hands.

Morgie’s blasts of magic don’t stop, pounding the wooden stand and the glass case alike. You think he yells something, but you can’t tell; you’re too focused on squinting at the fine print on the page, eyes wildly scanning the names of the spells. The desk quakes with every attack, causing your hands to tremble as you rifle through the pages hastily, pointer finger trailing down the lists of incantations.

Finally, your eyes lock onto the one you want. “Obiectum impedit semitam,” you recite, gaze darting between the page and the glass case above you. It quivers vigorously, yet remains unscathed due to its magic-bulletproof nature.

“Evanescet a lumine irae meae!” As soon as the last syllable leaves your tongue, the glass case dissipates into thin air. Your hand darts up, clutching the shield and shoving it in front of you. Just in time, as the wooden stand protecting you explodes from the force of Morgie’s dark magic, blasting into a shower of mere splinters that rain down around you. The shockwave causes you to recoil, even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the impact.

Quickly regaining your bearings, you crouch even lower behind the metal. Thumbing through the book pages briskly, your eyes skim the ink, trying to find the first spell that can help you now.

“Inimicus meus, caveto tibi,” you mutter the incantation rapidly, trying your best not to stumble over the archaic words—who knows what sort of havoc that would make. “Transi me et in carcere gelido capieris.”

You peek your head over the shield as you say the last line, locking in on your target. He stands there, panting, worn from his latest, potent attack. Morgie barely has enough time to widen his eyes as the final word escapes your mouth, instantly creating ice stalagmites that burst forth from the ground, crisscrossing as they trap him in a prison of ice. They tower high all around while entrapping him in a circle, frost coating their sleek outsides, which narrow into dangerously sharp tips.

The air turns frigid, and you can see flurries of movement as Morgie thrashes within his glacial cell. Already, he’s trying to break out. Through the cracks between the icicles, you can see a swirling vortex of black magic fighting the freezingly cold charm. Even though it is a strong spell, you know it won’t last for long. Especially not with the dark energy that is slowly, yet surely, thawing out the ice.

Springing up again, you bolt to the shelves on the other side, jumping over small puddles forming on the floor. The book is still open in your hands as you wildly tear through one page after another, the minuscule words shaking and blurring together as you run. Honestly, what kind of asshole decides to print in such a tiny font? you internally rage. Flipping through the large sheets of paper filled with small text reminds you of reading a dictionary. In a way, the spellbook is a dictionary of sorts, with the way every curse is listed alphabetically, in a neat and orderly manner—much unlike your current frenzied state, with how your heart pounds against your chest as if trying to break free, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins cuts off any semblance of a coherent thought forming in your brain.

Twisting sharply to your right, you dart towards the shelf that the Mirror stands on. You stare up at it as you continue to run, eyes practically sending a silent plea while it sits on its throne undisturbed, watching the scenes before it unfold as if viewing a play from the highest seat in the opera house; somehow mildly amused, yet still condescendingly blasé at the same time.

Flipping to the L section of the spellbook, you scan the page for a spell that can help you reach it at last. Finally finish the last stretch of your journey.

The icicle prison behind you makes a dreadfully loud crack. Your heart only races even faster with a jolt, your breathing coming out only in sharp, erratic gulps that make you feel light-headed, as if you’re not getting enough oxygen no matter how much you gasp for air.

As you scan the page, this time with a renewed fervor that has your eyes darting across the words, too panicked to even finish a sentence before leaping to the next, you make a very interesting revelation indeed. For whatever reason, the genius who wrote this book decided not to add levitation to the list of spells, but instead included lignum pullelare, which roughly translates to “sprouting a tree”.

Another thunderous boom sounds again from the constantly fracturing icicles, a violent reminder of the ticking clock. You decide that this spell, no matter how absurd, is the best shot you have. Inhaling another sharp breath that burns your lungs, you cry, “Surge, virens gigas, de terra immunda,” your eyes glued to the page. “Ascendunt ad lunam et super caelos!”

A branch smashes into your chest, knocking the wind out of you—you really need to get used to how quickly these spells take effect—lifting you up as a colossal tree ascends from the ground, growing much more rapidly than even a beanstalk, much less a normal tree. The metal shield slips out of your grasp from the impact, your fingers desperately flailing in its direction futile as it falls and hits the floor with a dull thud.

Your get snapped back to the present from the momentary distraction as your body starts slipping off the branch, with how it's quickly growing into a thick, strong limb with no end in sight. You slide off the ever-stretching wood, scratches cutting into your arms as you frantically try to wrap them around the branch, until only your hands are still hanging on. Using the book, which remains gripped firmly in one hand, you fling it open and cling to each cover. The book's pages spread wide around the wood as you hold on for dear life.

You continue shooting upwards along with the tree, the bookcase racing past you, when a realization hits you like a strike of lightning. This tree won’t stop growing anytime soon, and when it does, you’ll be too high up—if you're still alive, that is.

Glancing above you, you spot the Mirror and the shelf it sits on getting closer, and getting closer fast. Making up your mind, or rather, making a brash decision fueled by your skyrocketing panic, you wait until the shelf you need to reach comes into view. Then, you jump off.

Flinging yourself towards the bookcase, you manage to latch on to a shelf, fingers wrapping around the ledge while your feet find purchase on another ridge a few feet below. The book remains clutched in one hand, your iron grip refusing to let it go. Realizing you can't do anything while holding it, you risk letting go with one hand. Gripping onto the shelf with your other hand, you tuck the book under your chin, angling your head down as you struggle to hold it between your neck and body.

You peer up at your grasp on the shelf, the unforgiving ridges digging into your skin, carving painful lines into your fingers. Your feet barely remain balanced, the ledge not jutting out as far as you’d like it to. Turning your heels in to stay on the little shelf space there is in front of the books, you wince as the ridges between your arms and legs bite into your body. The sweat coating your palms causes your grip to start slipping off, your eyes wide in sheer terror as you let go for a brief second, thrusting your hands further back and hooking onto the edge again.

Glimpsing back down, you see the Mirror resting in its glass cage a few shelves below you, the strange white mist slithering underneath the glass and pouring out over the bookcase like a waterfall. With your chin still uncomfortably positioned as to not lose the book, you release on hand and leg from the shelf, leaving you hanging in between life and death itself.

You move your free hand down one ledge below, then the corresponding foot, haltingly scaling your way down the bookcase. Each time precariously letting go of your grip or footing to blindly feel below yourself for another ledge to stay on. After a few iterations, your feet finally stand on the same shelf as the Mirror, right next to the glass case.

Another piercing boom echoes behind you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as you flinch against the bookcase, quivering breaths sending your heartbeat shooting through the roof. Your eyes dart down to the book you squeeze with your neck, then to where your hands are barely clinging on to the shelf. There’s no chance of using the book to make the glass disappear again. Cursing yourself for not memorizing the incantation earlier, your mind swarms with thoughts, each one so loud they drown out each other.

An idea forms in your head—or rather, slams itself into the sides of your brain like a wave crashing in a bottle while it screams for attention—as you warily lift one foot on top of the heel of the other shoe, maneuvering it off your foot.

Now with only a sock left, you press your toes against the glass container. Inhaling a sharp breath, causing your lungs to ache as they scream for more, you muster enough energy to summon a bolt of lightning, focusing all your attention on passing electrical current through your body and to your foot.

The hotness of the electricity heats up the glass, melting it until there’s a decent-sized hole the size of your foot there. Shuffling to the side and raising your shoeless foot to the ledge above, you draw back your other leg and smash it into the glass, causing the compromised structure to shatter everywhere.

Climbing down the bookcase farther, you come face-to-face with the Mirror of Yteriv at last. It looks exactly like it was depicted in that textbook, sporting an elegant silver frame and seemingly shattered surface, with the two rubies staring at you like glowing eyes.

A loud explosion rings behind you, resounding throughout the entire library. You snatch the Mirror with one hand, turning your head to the side as far as you can without letting the book slip, just in time to see Morgie demolish the ice prison as he breaks free.

It's clear that since now he's no longer bound by frozen spikes of ice, you’re his next target. Taking in an abrupt gasp of air—the only preparation you have—you let go of the shelf.

You plummet towards the ground for only a second before creating small thunderbolts beneath each of your feet, suspending you in midair. Already, you can see Morgie charging up another attack, aiming it straight at you. Book in one hand, Mirror in the other, you take off into a run through the air. Small platforms of electricity form beneath your feet with every step, dissipating again as soon as your foot lifts.

Balls of dark magic hurl towards you, and you already know you have no chance of winning this fight—not like this. But you don’t need to win. Glancing down at the Mirror clutched in your palm as you jump off a thunderbolt, right as it gets blasted by a black orb, you realize that you’ve already completed your mission. Now, all that’s left is to get out of here.

Your mind scrambles for a way out that doesn’t involve getting blasted into smithereens, eyes still fixed on the Mirror as you continue to dash around in midair. Watching the wispy tendrils of white smoke pour out of the artifact, a previous memory from something you read in a book hits you like a flash.

As the Mirror of Ytirev connects to its wielder’s soul, so do its properties, the book had said. The mist emitted by the Mirror fluctuates with the wielder’s emotions; the more powerfully one feels their emotions, negative ones in particular, the more smoke it produces.

A room filled with smoke? You can’t think of a more perfect cover to help you escape.

Grip tightening even further around the Mirror as you leap to another lightning platform, dodging a new attack, you rack your brain for every negative emotion you have—which turns out to be a lot. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as your life flashes before your very eyes from every near-death experience. The way your heart shatters a little more every time your father overlooks your accomplishments, not paying any mind to how hard you strive to please him. Just to get a single smile, a pat on the back, a meager look of pride in your direction. One simple “That’s my daughter!” sent your way.

The anger deep inside you starts to bubble, pure rage sizzling and growing hotter every second you spend lost in your emotions. A fury that is always there, making every breath a little shorter, every happy moment a little duller. A dormant feeling that is usually left undisturbed, except for when it's triggered. Then it becomes a fire that burns hotter than any flame in the depths of hell.

The emotions and thoughts and memories that you keep suppressed in a corner of your heart all coming flooding out, like a dam finally bursting free. How could everyone strand you like that? Leave you all alone to suffer through your grief, while always expecting you to be kind and cheerful. They know what happened, and they have to know how badly it hurts. Yet not a single one cares. Not your dad, not your teachers, not your friends. No one in the entire world ever so much as offered a shoulder for you to cry on or gave you a comforting smile. Not one “I’m here for you” or “It’s all right, take your time.” No, all they did was raise their expectations, setting the bar so high until you’re barely clinging to it, trying to pull yourself up despite your weary arms. Lifting it to such heights that losing your grip and falling would mean certain death.

You think of the snarling, twisted animal that resides deep inside you, embedded into your very being, clawing at the aching hole in your heart left by the absence of your mother. Finally letting it break free after being caged for so long, you feel, oh-so agonizingly, how it scratches its way up your throat and escapes you in a wretched sob.

Why did she leave me? How could she leave me? I’m her daughter, for fuck’s sake. Who can abandon their child like that? Does she not care about me?

Did she ever even love me?

Painful thoughts consume your head as a few stray tears run down your cheek. You grit your teeth, sucking in shaky gasps of breaths. Smothered by your anguish, submerged in emotion.

Yet, despite all this, it works. Remembering the entire point of your self-inflicted despair, your head snaps down to the Mirror. Although your legs burn and throb from all the incessant running, you can’t stop. At least not yet.

Thick fog exudes from the Mirror, rapidly engulfing the whole of the arena. Within a few moments, everything is covered in the dense whiteness, so heavy you can barely see your hand, even if you hold it directly in front of your face.

Morgie disappears in the fog as well, to the point where you can no longer see nor hear him. Assuming that he’s no longer a threat for now—if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, and if he can’t see you, he can’t attack you—you summon a staircase of thunderbolts and walk down it until you safely step onto solid ground.

Your legs practically give way at the first touch of hard floor, the urge to collapse and lie on the ground excruciatingly strong. Mustering up the last of your strength and willpower, you force your feet to step one after another, desperately trying to distract yourself from the fire burning in your muscles at even the strain of supporting your own weight.

Almost done. Almost.

Practically rendered blind by the all-encompassing mist, you keep one hand outstretched, making sure you won’t collide with anything—especially Morgie. Pocketing the Mirror, you continue through the fog. You had made sure to note your direction in relation to the exit before everything became completely invisible as to help you easily find your way out without getting lost. But after a few minutes in the overwhelming whiteness, you start to doubt yourself.

What’s even worse is that there’s no sign of Morgie. You’re not foolish enough to expect him to pop up right in front of you, but you don’t hear him making any sounds either. No footsteps, no breathing, nothing. Your strides are far more muffled as you take your other shoe off too, annoyed at the limping effect the difference in heights causes. But nothing from him.

Your mind starts wandering to what happened to him, refusing to admit that the smallest part of you feels the tiniest bit concerned. Does he need help? Is he still alive? Your intentions were to steal the Mirror and disarm him, not kill him. You’re not evil enough for that.

Not yet, anyway.

After stumbling through the murky fog for a bit longer, you start to notice that now, you can see your hand extended in front of you. The fog is thinning, you think, which means I must be nearing the edge of this area and heading towards the bookcases.

A little bit further, and the fog disperses to all but a thin mist. The bookshelves in front of you come into view, the rows and rows of them finally visible as they expand into the distance. Follow those, and you’ll find the door you came in through.

So, so close…

You take a few more steps, the heavy spellbook still in hand as you reach into your pocket with an unusual, yet profound, sense of paranoia, ensuring the Mirror is still there. Out of nowhere, you feel a strange sort of chill cover your feet. You chalk it up to your lack of shoes, but, not being able to resist the urge, you glance down.

That’s when you see strange feathery tendrils of black smoke on the floor, in stark contrast to the thin mist that hangs in the air. They slither and wrap around your feet as they move, condensing together in front of you and rising up a meter off the ground in the shape of a hissing black cobra.

The cobra flares out its hood whilst flicking its tongue at you, swaying side to side as it stretches to its full height. You stumble backwards, hesitating for only a second too long before it dawns on you where the snake came from.

Behind you, a brooding voice sounds. “Going somewhere?” Morgie asks.

You spin around sharply, dismay and a special breed of horror painted on your face as you turn to face him. “I don’t care what you do, the Mirror is mine,” you growl, shooting him a lethal glare that truly could kill.

“I don’t think so.” He gathers more black magic around his palm, creating an orb that whirls around like a dark, spherical tornado. You both stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, a fracture in time, trying to decide your next move—when he suddenly throws his hand forward.

You flinch away, yanking the book in front of your face as a shield. After a second, when you don’t feel anything, you open your eyes, turning back in his direction in confusion.

And that’s when you see that you weren't the target of his attack.

The book in front of you was.

The dark magic gnaws at it from the back cover, where it hit on impact, eating away at the pages. “No!” you scream, desperately flipping through the paper as the magic destroys it. Your own magic may be quite strong, but since you're barely allowed to practice it, it’s nowhere near the son of Morgana’s abilities or prowess. This book was your only chance at defeating him.

Frantically rifling through the pages, a look of pure horror on your face, you try to scan the spells for something to save you. Teleportation is soon gone, as well as fireball. As soon as you catch a glimpse of a spell name that could be helpful, the incantation is instantly obliterated.

Panic building faster than even the speed of the dark magic, you flip to the front of the book, trying to find a spell at the beginning of the alphabet so you have enough time to actually read the incantation.

But apple is of no use, and neither is bridge. Morgie stands there, gaze transfixed on your struggling form, wickedly smiling with an amused raise of his eyebrows. Guess he really is a villain after all.

The black energy eroding the book spreads across both covers, demolishing the tome as you hold it in your feverishly trembling hands. Your eyes race across the letters, desperate to find one that could even have a chance at saving you.

Dragon, no.

Claws, not that.

Chasm, not that either.

None of these will help me! your internal voice screeches, the book dissipating as you hold it. Then, your eyes snag along a word.

Chains. The perfect spell.

“Ut qui inritat, catenas sentiat iras,” you wildly spit out, heart racing, tongue unable to move fast enough. Your eyes dart frenziedly ahead of your mouth, running on sheer panic as you try to memorize the words in case the book does disappear. “Pati in compedibus, ut solvas pretium peccatorum tuorum,” you continue to cry out.

As the last fibers of the pages evaporate in black fumes, you thrust a hand in Morgie’s direction, yelling the last few words. “Eris enim sine fuga ligatus!”

Nothing.

Then, boom.

The residual magic from the demolished book, no longer contained in a physical form, explodes, the force sending you flying backwards. You soar for a couple feet before colliding with a shelf behind you, your head slamming against a sharp edge.

You crumple to the floor, body bruised, beaten, and bloody. The world spins, your head throbs, and you feel so generally shitty that you want to crawl out of your body and leave this physical hindrance behind.

Your head feels too heavy to lift up, and so it falls forward, swaying back and forth. A warm sensation on the back of your skull draws your senses back to the present, and you lift one weary hand to the spot. Bringing it back down in front of your face, you see a whole lot of red smothered on it, just as more trickles down onto the base of your head and neck.

Groaning, you lift your face to scan your surroundings as the dust settles yet again. The fog is now almost completely gone, allowing you to see rather clearly. Sight still blurry, you barely make out the figure a few meters in front of you as heavy chains whip up from the floor, wrapping around his arms.

More spring up around his legs, dragging him down and causing his knees to buckle. He fights against the metal, but they only tighten as even more encircle his torso, tethering him to the ground. He leans forwards, now kneeling before you, arms spread out and chained to the floor on either side.

In front of him, halfway between you two, lies the Mirror of Yteriv, face-up on the floor.

Scrambling to get up, you slowly manage to stand, leaning your weight on the bookcase behind you. The ground sways underneath your feet, but you don’t collapse. One shaky step after another, you make your way over to the mirror.

You practically crumple to the floor as you lean down to snatch it up, the sounds of chains rattling against each other echoing through your head as their prisoner resists his bonds.

You straighten again, running your fingers over every millimeter of the Mirror’s surface to ensure that the cracks reflected on it are only part of its usual appearance and not actual damage caused during the explosion. Once you're sure of its safety, you look down at the figure shackled in front of you.

Morgie looks up at you, hair disheveled and face bruised, a few drops of blood spattered on his cheek. His eyes are a storm of anguish and a wounded kind of sorrow, his jaw clenched tight. You’d like to think that he isn’t peering up at you, body tied and bound, with resentment etched into his features, but you know you’d be lying to yourself.

He gives another violent tug against the chains, but to no avail. Neither of you speak a word, remaining in complete silence, yet somehow saying a thousand things through your eyes. You stare down at him, at the way he can barely lift his head due to his restraints, the agony swirling in his eyes tugging at your heartstrings in ways that make you ache through your core.

But you’ve already come this far. You can’t turn back now.

The deafening silence remains as you raise the Mirror up in front of yourself, the white mist wrapping around you as if beckoning you closer. The red eyes glow even brighter, their judgment intensifying as your reflection begins to appear in the glass. The cracks on the surface slowly fade away as you come into view, until finally revealing a completely smooth and unmarred image as you gaze into your own eyes.

Except they aren’t yours.

Your reflection in the mirror is not of yourself, but of a younger version of you. She smiles effulgently, a pure, innocent sparkle of wonder in her eyes. A look of untainted bliss painted on her face as she beams.

A look you haven’t seen in your own reflection for a long time.

“Mommy?” her young, high-pitched voice calls out. “Mommy? Moooommy? Where are you?”

A sob gets caught in your throat as you gasp, tears framing your vision. As if the memory finally gets uncovered in your mind, after being hidden away all these years from your brain deeming it too painful, you realize when this is—or rather, what this is.

“Mommy?” she calls again, her smile faltering as her little brow furrows in confusion, her face scrunching ever so slightly. “Mommy?” She turns her head to the side, looking at something out of view before asking, “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”

Your chest heaves as a sharp cry escapes you, the pain taking a physical form in the tears streaking your cheeks, your face contorting as you weep. In the background, a man’s faint, shaky sobs sound.

The mirror slips from your fingers, landing on the ground with an echoing thud. You whimper, uncontrollably trembling breaths causing your chest to jolt back and forth. You don’t move, can’t move, empty hand still suspended in midair.

You feel numb, yet like you're experiencing every emotion all at once. Your brain can’t wrap around this, around any of this, can’t comprehend your own thoughts. Can’t process what you feel. You’ve shoved your emotion down for so long, that now that they’re no longer bottled up, you don’t know how to deal with them.

“I’m sorry.” The voice cuts through the thick silence, snapping you out of the raging war inside your head.

You glance over at Morgie, still wrapped in chains. His eyes no longer hold the same animosity and misery, but instead a soft sort of sympathy, an underlying look of understanding as he peers up at you, head slightly raised.

“I don’t want your pity,” you sniff indignantly.

“I’m not pitying you.”

You look down at him, your chest heaving, eyes bloodshot. Taking shaky gasps of breath through your mouth, your body quivers as you wait for him to continue.

“I didn’t know about your mom, and you’re totally justified for wanting to know what happened to her,” Morgie continues. “You can take that Mirror and walk out of here if you want.” You keep on staring at him, not saying anything, frozen with anticipation as he carries on. “But are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?”

You gulp before responding, voice hoarse and eyes half-lidded, voice cold and numb. “Would you still hesitate to take that risk, even when it means it could make your future finally be one worth living?”

“Your future is already one worth living,” Morgie replies. “You may not see it, but you’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person. You have a bright future ahead of you.” He shakes his head, eyes still boring into you. “Don’t ruin it like this. Blinded by your pain.”

Sniffling, you inhale a shuddering breath. “And how do you know my pain is blinding me, and not making me see clearer? Clearer than I have in my entire life. Clearer than she did.” You jut your chin towards the mirror lying on the floor.

“I don’t. But what I do know, from seeing my own mother, is that pain like this gets you nowhere. Letting the people who were supposed to love you instead turn you bitter and cynical never fixes things. You may think that becoming evil is the solution, but it’s not. It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You stare at him intensely, a raw kind of pain displayed on your face, one that no one has ever seen before. A thousand emotions flicker through your eyes, your lips twisting into a whimpering attempt at a smile as you cry again, the sob wracking through your body. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hope flashes in your eyes, reflected in his. Your gaze softens, looking at him as if he’s the beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A small grin breaks his steady demeanor, looking at you with optimism shining through the glimmer in his eyes.

You reach down, picking up the Mirror again. You stare at it, although not directly at your reflection this time. He peers up at you, still shackled to the floor, eyes wide with anticipation.

You slip the Mirror into the pocket of your cloak once again before turning around, your back to him. Twisting your head to the side so he hears you, you say, “The chains will disappear in an hour.”

Turning your head back, you walk away and leave him behind, black cape flickering in the dark night.

Unclasping the back, you slip off the locket, placing it in front of you. The rusty metal is reflected in the mirror in front of it, along with the tears that splatter on its surface.

It had belonged to your mother, the only thing you had left of her. She had given it to you when you were a little kid, not too long before she left. It was old and weathered, the silver having tarnished over time. Still, you religiously wore it every single day, never taking it off as if it's a part of your body. And sometimes, if you stare at it hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing she's still there.

Safely back in your dorm, all alone, you had set the Mirror down, flipping to the notebook page where you had transcribed the incantations for the ritual, without a second thought.

Now, sitting on the ground, the Mirror leaning against a leg of your desk with your locket as an offering in front of it, you start to hesitate. Your face twists in pure agony, features scrunched up, lips quivering uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears splatter onto your hands and lap.

It’s too late to turn back now.

Taking another shaky breath, you extend your hands forward to the Mirror, placing one thumb on each red gemstone embedded in the intricate silver design. The jewels watch you, scorning your every action. Just like everyone else.

Your eyes flutter closed, letting out the steadiest exhale you’ve had all night. “Speculum, speculum, in conspectu oculorum meorum,” you whisper, feeling the way the rubies press into the flesh of your thumbs. Already, the Mirror starts discharging more fog, enveloping you as it grows denser with each syllable. “Accipe donum meum et veritas libera me.”

You open your eyes as the last words leave your tongue, staring straight into the eyes of your own reflection.

The red gems glow radiantly, emitting a bright light that nearly blinds you. You squint, yet still unrelentingly stare into your eyes—or rather, your younger self's eyes. The fog swirls around you, swallowing you whole. You can’t see anything anymore, can’t even tell where you are. You feel as though your soul, your life’s very essence, gets sucked out of your body and into the Mirror.

You have the sensation of being shoved forward, but you don’t fall. In fact, you don't have a body anymore, no physical vessel to hold you. You try to look down, but you're greeted by the absence of your legs, sheer nothingness filling the space beneath you. You can’t really move around either, not in the way you’re used to. All you can do is simply float, your existence diminished to an untethered life force, with some semblance of what you once were.

Looking around, everything around you is white like before, but not in the suffocating way the fog was. Instead, you stand in a wide expanse of whiteness, a vast field of empty space. It stretches on forever, with no end in sight. It’s as if you’re stuck in a blank canvas, waiting for a painter to bring you to life.

The sound of wind whistles all around you, but not so much as a breeze actually comes. In fact, everything is completely unmoving. Despite the stifling stillness, you remain listening to the sound of the wind. If you strain hard enough, you can hear something almost like faint whispers filling your senses.

You look around again, ignoring the eerie voices. According to all the texts you read, after the Mirror accepts the wielder’s offering, they can ask for their answer. You’re not quite sure if this field of emptiness means your offering’s been accepted, but seeing as how you don’t feel insane yet, you think it’s safe to presume so. Still, your brain can’t help but point out that crazy people probably don’t feel like they’re crazy either.

Shaking off your doubts, you decide to continue with the process. After all, it is the only shot you have. You had memorized all the incantations for this particular spell earlier, repeating them over and over again until every word was engraved into your mind.

“Scire volo verum,” you recite. “I wish to know a truth.” Nothing happens.

You take a deep breath. “I wish to know why my mom left.”

The wind around you grows louder, howling even in the still air. The whispers increase in volume, once seemingly non-threatening and benign, now forming a cacophony of overlapping, chaotic voices. They grow distorted and grating, pushing in from every side, wrapping around you and slithering into your brain. You can’t block them out, no matter how hard you try; can’t swat them away, can’t make them leave, leaving you trying to tear them out of your head, despite not having hands anymore.

Suddenly, the white vastness turns a dark gray, and you start getting pulled downward towards something, like moving towards the center of a black hole. The whispers grow claws and fangs, clawing and scratching at your chest as they drag you down, making it hard for you to breathe.

You try to fight back, but the voices now in your head keep pulling you down. They’ve taken over you, consuming you whole, and it’s impossible not to succumb to their will.

As they continue to drag you down into the abyss, you turn around—or rather, focus on the other side of your vague form of spiritual energy—and notice a tiny black dot very far down, but steadily growing bigger as you move towards it.

The whispers are screaming now, cries of agony of those who came before you, encompassing you whole and forcing you to the depths of this dark chasm.

And that’s when it hits you.

The others who used the Mirror did all end up getting the truths they sought.

And the truth was what drove them to madness.

You panic, trying to shake off the invisible hands of the whisperers, but they only tighten their hold around you. No matter how hard you fight them, they don’t relent in their endeavor of pulling you towards damnation.

“Are you really going to risk your future for knowledge of the past?” Morgie’s words echo in your head out of nowhere, haunting you with regret. You absolutely despise admitting it, but fuck, he was right.

Your last conversation with him replays in your mind, reminding you of your foolishness and idiocy. You had been so focused on getting what you wanted that you were indeed blinded to the truth that had been right in front of you this whole time.

“Your future is one worth living.”

His voice swirls around in your brain, drawing your attention away a little from the screaming voices in your head.

“You’re talented, and smart, and pretty, and you’re a good person.”

You realize these are probably the last words you’ll ever hear.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You feel like crying again, the despair that’s taken root in you fighting to escape. Still, you don’t have an actual body in this dreamscape, so crying is impossible.

“It’s not worth it. You’re not worth it.”

You look back up the other direction and away from the black dot, resigned to your fate as you get dragged down into the chasm, deeper, deeper, deeper. At first, you think you’re imagining it; a mirage created by your mind to distract you from your pain. But as the descent continues, you begin to realize that it may not be an illusion after all.

In front of you, from the direction you came, a faint golden thread, seemingly made of pure light, stretches from your form of consciousness and ascends, up, up, up, all the way to the never-ending sky. With each of Morgie’s words you repeat in your head, the string of light grows stronger, brighter.

“You’re talented.”

The thread becomes thicker and more luminous, and you begin to realize that your descent has slowed down as well.

“And smart.”

The thread grows again, and you slow down a little more.

“And pretty.”

Your eyes follow the string upwards, and now, you see there’s a faint patch of white amidst the murky gray surrounding you.

“You’re a good person.”

The thread, still shooting out straight from your form, gleams with a shimmering golden light now. You notice that you’re no longer getting dragged downwards, but instead up, towards the whiteness. The screaming voices aren’t as insufferably loud anymore, either.

“You have a bright future ahead of you.”

You keep ascending, getting drawn faster and faster up. Morgie’s words serve as your lifeline, saving you from insanity.

“You’re not worth it.”

Now, you see that the white patch is actually an opening, an escape from this hell. The thread leads to it, its blinding brightness concealing whatever lies beyond.

“I know so.”

The last of his words give you the final push you need, sending you straight into the white light.

Your head snaps up with a sharp, terrified exhale. You look down, taking a moment to register that you’re back in your room. The locket dangles from one of your hands, the Mirror clutched in the other.

Fresh tears replacing the dried ones on your cheeks as you let out a sob of excruciating heartache, a sound of pure agony. The kind that no one should have to go through.

You look down at the cracked surface of the Mirror—a feeling of raw, unbridled anger set in the way you clench your jaw, and the way your face contorts with your cries—staring straight at the evil red eyes still gleaming at you.

With a swift motion, you lift your hand above your head, still grasping tight. Mustering together all your might, you hurl the Mirror towards the ground, watching as it shatters into a sea of glittering pieces.

“You’re late.”

You lean against the rough brick wall of an empty corridor, arms crossed, your figure partially obscured in shadows.

“And I’m surprised you’re still here,” Morgie quips, walking towards you. “Why’d you even want to talk with me? Especially through leaving that threatening note next to my nightstand for me to find when I woke up.”

He stops in front of you, leaving you to glower at him. Suddenly, with no warning, you lunge towards him, seizing the collar of his shirt and pushing him against the wall, your other hand summoning a rod of crackling lightning.

His eyes widen with a startled gaze, but he doesn’t look quite as fearful as you want him to be. “Now, listen here.” You press the tip of the lightning bolt against his neck. “If you say a word of what happened last night to anyone—especially my father—I will kill you.”

Although you try to sound as menacing as possible, Morgie is unfazed. An amused smirk spreads across his face as he replies, “Alright, relax. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anyways.”

His eyes trail down from your gaze to the locket dangling from your neck. He reaches out a hand, brushing his thumb along the tarnished metal as he softly says, “You didn’t go through with it, huh?”

You pull away, frustrated at his compassionate tone. “No. I decided…it was too risky. After all, what’s the point of figuring out the past if I can’t ever use that information, right?” A small smile spreads across Morgie’s face, that sympathetic, delicate look in his eyes again. Your irritation rising at this, you add, with a growl, “Although I will find a way to get my answer. I don’t care how bad I have to become, if you, or my father, or anyone stands in my way, you’ll truly see how evil I can be!”

Morgie keeps his unfettered appearance up. God, he’s so annoying! you mentally scream in frustration.

“Why are you so fixed on this?” he asks, tilting his head sideways and furrowing his brow as if trying to look past your cold, vengeful, rancorous mask and figure out the scarred little girl buried underneath.

You roll your eyes instead of answering. Never one to express emotions, the thought of opening up now about your years of pain feels terrifyingly vulnerable. It’s so much easier to just build walls around your heart and shut everyone out.

“Tell me this, and I promise I won’t tell a word of what happened last night to anyone,” Morgie bargains.

You narrow your eyes. “You already said you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Well, now I’m having second thoughts.”

You raise your arm again to summon another bolt of electricity, and Morgie lifts his hands, palms facing forward, in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, I won’t say anything, fine. But I just want you to talk to me. Bottling up your emotions like this isn’t healthy. Last night should be a good example of that.”

You shoot another glare at him, but can’t deny the fact that he’s right. Still, you hate the idea of how exposed and weak you'd be if you actually told someone how you feel.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know.”

You peer up at him, eyes wide in shock, as he continues. “I’ll stay by your side. You don’t have to worry about me abandoning you.”

Gulping, you nod, averting his gaze. Instead, you choose to look down at your shoes, studying the laces as you speak. “I…when my mom left, it was so sudden. No goodbyes, nothing. It was like one day, she just vanished.”

Your voice cracks, and Morgie places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, unknowingly pulling you closer to him. You swallow, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My dad didn’t even care. It was as if she never existed. And everyone else…they all knew what happened. But they paid no attention whatsoever. They expected me to act normal, be all nice and sweet as if nothing changed. It made me hate them, hate all of them.”

“Do you hate me?”

Morgie’s voice rings in the empty corridor, quiet yet speaking louder than a thousand shouts. You look up at him again, his image slightly blurred by the tears welling at the bottom of your eyes. You look up and you see the boy that stood by your side at your worst, who didn’t get scared or run away when you showed him your true colors.

The boy who said things no one’s ever said to you, whose words saved you from destroying yourself.

The boy who stands here, a concerned crinkle on his forehead as he awaits your answer. He doesn’t have to be here, listening to your problems. He doesn’t have to care.

But he does.

“No,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No, I don’t hate you.”

In the suffocating sea of fake smiles and stifling pressures, Morgie is like a breath of fresh air. The first gulp of oxygen that you take as your head breaks free from the water.

“That’s a relief,” he responds, a trace of a smirk ghosting his features.

You give a small, bittersweet laugh. “Ever since my mom left and my dad stopped caring about me, I’ve never had anyone to talk to. No one seems to care about my emotions, or ask me how I’m doing. It’s as if I’m not a real person who has actual feelings.”

You’re on the verge of tears again, and Morgie must realize this, because he tries to lighten the mood by attempting—and failing—to inconspicuously wrap an arm around your shoulder as he says, “So, what I’m hearing from all this, is that you need a strong, reliable figure in your life to lean on, right? Like…a boyfriend or something?”

You duck under his arm, moving a good few feet away from him while fixing him with another glare. “Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Come on, that was smooth! You’ve got to admit it,” he whines, drawing out a small giggle from you.

It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like this: a true, heartfelt laugh, not the fake one that you do to appease other people under the pressure of society's expectations. It feels nice, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

All because of him.

“I don’t know, maybe I'll consider it with some time, if you treat me well,” you joke as you turn your head away with faux indifference.

“Hey, a slim chance is better than no chance at all, right?” Morgie moves closer to you again, as if he can’t stand having so much space between the two of you. “I can see I’ve made some progress since last night, when you tried to kill me.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the bruises on my body.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so weak and sensitive,” you retort with a grin.

He nudges you playfully and you laugh again, shaking your head with an amused look. “Hey, I was wondering,” he asks, locking eyes with you, “what did you end up doing with the Mirror?”

You give a knowing grin, masking the undercurrent of what’s left unsaid. You vaguely respond, “It’s in a better place now.”

“If you say so,” Morgie replies, his smile returning to his face and lighting up his features once again. He continues to tease you, and you oblige him, keeping up the friendly banter as he walks you to class.

The Enchanted Lake glistens, reflecting the sun’s gentle rays with a bright shimmer. Deep down, under feet of clear blue water and various forms of aquatic life, in a far corner of the lake, lies a bag of glass shards. Next to it floats an ornate metal carving with a hollow center, reminiscent of something once set there. And at the top, two glowing red gemstones briefly flicker and die out, like watchful eyes finally closing.

end x

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a/n: how did this get so long...if you're still here, and if you actually read that entire thing, thank you so so soo much! I'm sending you a virtual cookie and a hug (if you're comfortable with it ofc) because you're absolutely awesome! <3 hope you enjoyed reading!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

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totheblood · 1 year

Note

Helloo :D

Can you do hcs of what it would be like to be friends w benefits with ellie 🫣

a/n: i been waiting on this one ngl... fwb is like the best and worst trope to me... IM SORRY IM SO SICK IN THE HEAD I LOVE U TOXIC ELLIE... also this is modern!ellie.. if this isn't what u meant then im so sorry and i will rewrite it.. not smut but smutty? AI AUDIOS AT THE END

p,s. i lost this when i finished it cause tumblr is the worst and i had to rewrite it so this is a testament of how much i love you guys and i am so sorry if u hate it

fwb!ellie headcanons

it kind of just happened one night after your friends abandoned you at a party and ellie offered to walk you home

you were always close friends with ellie but had gone to the party with a different friend group

...your straight friend group

and you were touch-starved

and ellie was TOUCH-STARVED

so when your tipsy ass asked ellie if she wanted to come inside with you she couldn't say yes fast enough

if she was being honest she was tipsy too

and high

and the alcohol coursing through both of your systems just amplified every touch

it would start gentle with soft kisses

but quickly pick up pace as you moan into her mouth

she wouldn't even make it to your bedroom, pushing you up against the wall and kneeing you

your moans only cause her to want to feel you, her asking for permission before ever touching you

her hands eagerly undo your belt before snapping the waistband of your panties with her fingers

she dips her fingers into your underwear, quickly rubbing circles into your clit

"shit... i'm barely touching you and you're already soaking wet."

"fuck, ellie."

"fuck, you feel so good... this all for me?"

but promptly after fucking you ellie feels sick to her stomach

it's like the reality that she has now fucked her very close friend, who she has always thought was pretty, hits her all at once

so she's quickly throwing her t-shirt on and frantically looking around your place for her flannel

"you're leaving?"

you break her out of her trance and as she looks at your swollen lips and worried eyes her brain is telling her: run, run, run

if it wasn't clear before ellie has no idea how to deal with her feelings

like at all

all she really knows how to feel is guilt & horniness

"yeah well, this wasn't anything serious... we're just friends, right?"

"right, yeah, i know that. it's just really late and cold. you can take the couch.

"right... thanks."

yes, ellie is disappointed that you weren't disappointed and yes, that's toxic

but you were disappointed and there is no way in hell you would be caught dead admitting that

ellie is gone by the morning

it continues every night for about a month straight

one of you is either calling or texting and ending up in the other's bed night after night

ellie will occasionally spend the night (on your couch) and wake you up for your morning classes

or wake up early and buy you breakfast

she tells herself that since she's not cooking the breakfast it doesn't make it coupley

sometimes you two will go out for dinner beforehand... it's not a date it's what ellie likes to call a 'pre-workout snack'

you two will study together and celebrate your grades on tests by trying new things out with each other

"you got an A-? so i'm getting fucking lucky tonight… hell yea"

soon enough she's leaving every party with you

and waiting by the phone for you to call

and thinking about what you are doing

or what you are wearing

and it's all really nice

until it begins to overwhelm her and suddenly she feels like she can't breathe

she didn't like how everyone began to call you a "couple" or how much it bothered her when you would talk about people you were attracted to

or how she wanted to punch their faces in

so she begins to avoid all your texts and calls and avoids going to every party she's invited to

she doesn't even check your social media anymore

it all comes to a head when she's walking on campus and spots you coming from the opposite direction causing her to immediately turn around

"hey, ellie! what the fuck?"

she turns around, an awkward look on her face and all she manages to say is: "what's up?"

"what's up? what's up is that you've been avoiding me. all my texts and calls. what gives?"

"i'm just over it. it got too... close.. for me. you're not my girlfriend so stop acting like you are!"

the minute it leaves her mouth and she watches your face shift from anger to sadness she feels sick to her stomach

"wait, i didn't mean it l-"

"fuck you, ellie."

she goes home and has to stop herself from throwing up

she has no one to talk to about this because she knows she's being an asshole

to make matters worse all she really wants to do is talk to you about it

and she can't

so she just wallows in her apartment and avoids you as much as she can

until she can't

her heart nearly stops when she receives a call from you in the middle of the night and you're crying on the other end asking her to pick you up

"ellie, i'm so so sorry... i wouldn't do this to you if i didn't have a choice but they all left me and i didn't know who else to call and... i need you."

"sh, it's okay... hold on, baby. i will be right there. everything will be okay."

she blows through a couple of stop signs on the way to get you and her heart breaks at the sight of your tear-stained face

"hey, are you o-"

"please just drive, ellie."

ellie takes you back to your place and you fully expect her to leave but she helps you upstairs, takes off your makeup, and tucks you in

you fully expected her to leave but when you wake up she's there in your kitchen

and she made you breakfast

"ellie, what are you d-"

"hey, you're up. do you think you could sit down, have some eggs, and just listen to what i have to say? can you do that?"

"um, sure?"

she takes a deep breath before starting and you make note of how she avoids eye contact with you

"i'm not good at this… or i thought i wasn't good at it and it scared the shit out of me. my whole world became you and i was looking forward to seeing you, and talking to you, and touching you, and i got so scared that it could all get taken away at any moment. so scared that i just sabotaged the one good thing in my life. i'm so sorry, is there anyway you could forgive me?"

"of course i can, you freak"

ai audios:

#asked & answered #Anonymous #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year

Text

Chapter 5: You're the One That I Want

Summary: You and Javi spend the day running errands when you encounter a few unexpected surprises. After returning back to your apartment, you both face the reality that your weekend together is coming to an end, hoping for more time together soon.

Word Count: 10.6K (I am so genuinely sorry, there's A LOT goin' on in this chapter.)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected P in V sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), vaginal fingering, creampie, car sex, semi-public sex, mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy scares, mentions of periods, mentions of food, sweet Javi being embarrassed about his past, Javi having it SO bad for you...Lorraine....

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's liked and reblogged, this is my first ever fic that I've written and I'm so glad people are enjoying it!!! 🥺 This chapter has a lot that happens and I already had to split it up once (yikes on my part), excited to write about what these two crazy kids are up to next!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

You rummaged through your drawers to pull out a pair of black biker shorts and a form fitting sage green tank top, knowing that a Laredo 80 degree day felt like a Chicago 95. You normally would have gone baggy, oversized t-shirt, but given your company, you decided to up your wardrobe choices. Javi leaned against your doorway, arms folded and jaw slack as he watched you get dressed. He had already spent the majority of the morning with you naked, yet something about you putting on more clothes made him half hard again. It didn’t help that you had purposefully picked a black, lacy thong and skimpier than usual sports bra to go under your outfit. You looked yourself over in the mirror before meeting Javi in the doorway.

“Ready?”

“You sure we have to go? You’re killin’ me dressed like that, Osita.”

“Yes, we do, or I am going to die of starvation in my own home.” You pressed up on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips.

You did one last check of your kitchen before grabbing your grocery list, purse and keys and slipping on your shoes by your front door. Javi followed suit, trailing behind you as you led your way down the stairs to the parking lot. It was only 11:00 AM, but the hot Texas sun was already beating down, radiating heat waves from the asphalt. Reaching the parking lot, you both unknowingly began walking in separate directions. “Okay, so I’m thinking I’ll probably do my non-food stops first and then we can go to the grocery store after so nothing bakes too much in the car. God is it always this hot? Does that work?” Silence. “Javi?” You turned around to find that Javi had gone in the complete opposite direction “Where are you going?!” You shouted.

“My car is parked over here? Where are you going?”

“My car is parked over here” you pointed in the direction you were walking.

“Let me drive.”

“Do you think I’m not a good driver? Is it because I’m a woman? That’s a little sexist, don’t ya think?”

“What?! No I never said that?”

“Javi, I’m joking. I’m more than capable of driving.”

“I know you are, but I’m offering.”

You thought for a minute about pushing back again, but your boiling state in the blistering heat was a painful reminder you desperately needed to get your car AC fixed, and you weren’t going to subject Javi to burning alive with you.

“Fine.” You said with a huff of defeat, changing directions and making your way back toward Javi. You got to his truck as he opened up the passenger door for you and you muttered under your breath.

“And you think I’m the stubborn one.”

“I heard that.”

As Javi started his car, he pushed open the overhead compartment over the driver’s side to pull out a pair of yellow tinted aviators. It was truly unfair that this man found ways to keep getting hotter. The cool breeze from the AC hit your face as soft music played from the stereo.

“Where to first, Osita?”

“Toy-R-Us.”

Javi raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Not for me, dummy. My niece turns 5 in a few weeks and even though I’m not close by, I still want to get her a birthday present. It should be quick, I think I know what I want to get her. Then we can go grocery shopping.”

Javi nodded in agreement as he backed out of his parking spot and you two hit the road.

“Didn’t know that you were an Aunt.”

“Yeah, my oldest brother, Charlie, has two little girls, 5 and 3, and he and his wife are expecting another one that’s due in November. Neither of my other brothers have kids. They’re the cutest. I miss them, don’t want Olivia to think I’m a deadbeat Aunt who forgot her birthday.”

“My old DEA partner Steve and his wife have a daughter named Olivia. Maybe a little bit older than your niece. Been a while since I’ve caught up with him.”

Javi could vividly remember the day he and Steve brought Olivia home to Connie, Steve’s wife. Crying and scared, Javi watching as they immediately wrapped little Olivia in their arms, showering her with love and affection. The 3 of them looked so perfect together, accepting the little girl into their family. While Javi congratulated them and told them he was happy Olivia would be in a safe home, he would never reveal the sting he felt knowing his chances of having what the Murphy’s did grew slimmer and slimmer with each day that passed in Colombia.

Before he left, Javi had always hoped he’d have a family. He loved his parents so dearly, and wished that one day he could have a resemblance of what they did with the person he loved. His relationship with Lorraine had left him hurt and scorned, as he had almost gotten what he had wished for, but with a woman who couldn’t have cared less about him. By the time he left Colombia, he had written the idea off completely. He was tired. Broken. Scared by the things he had seen, worse yet, done. If he could barely keep himself together, how the hell was he supposed to have a family? He couldn’t imagine burdening someone else, let alone children, with the weight he carried with him. That was until 5 days ago on a Wednesday afternoon in late May. That was until he met you.

“That’s nice that you still keep in touch with him.” You wanted to ask more, but for now, you would take any information you could get about his life before you.

“Yeah, Steve’s a good guy. Pain in my ass, but meant well.”

“You seem to attract a type.”

“And what would that be?”

“A pain in your ass.”

Javi shook his head and chuckled. “You’re a lot cuter than Steve. Makes it a little easier to forgive you.” You playfully punched him, the two of you laughing softly to yourselves as Javi reached his free hand down to set it on the bare skin of your thigh. You sat quietly for a few moments, enjoying his thumb trace gently around your flesh. It was a surprisingly quick trip to the Toys-R-Us. Javi’s truck pulled into a parking spot as you began debriefing him on what you needed as you walked into the store.

“Okay so when I talked on the phone with Olivia last week, she told me she really wants Polly Pockets. I’m just worried because the pieces are so small and I don’t want her sister to accidentally choke on them. I feel like a lot of the Kindergarteners really like those Sky Dancers but they always break. Her mom says she’s been into Pokémon cards but I feel like she’ll get bored of them.”

“Poké-what? Osita, I have no idea what the hell any of that means.”

“Right, sorry, I forgot not everyone spends the majority of their time with 8 year olds. This is all I hear about day in and day out, so I might as well put my knowledge to good use.”

Javi followed you through the brightly colored aisles, stopping as you occasionally would pick up a toy to examine it and then put it back down. As you walked, you talked about your favorite toys from childhood, Javi’s being his collection of Hot Wheels cars that he was convinced his dad still had somewhere in the attic, yours being your Lite Brite because it was the only thing your brothers wouldn’t try to take from you. You continued your journey until you stopped at a brightly colored bear holding a marker. “This one is perfect. My class loves these Doodle Bears. The bear is cute, she can draw on it and wash it off, and Charlie isn’t gonna be pissed that it needs batteries or will take forever to set up. Perfect.”

“Nice pick, Osita. Seems fitting.”

“I keep forgetting that means bear. Guess it is fitting.” You giggled as you plucked the bear off the shelf and began heading back towards the front of the store to check out. As you walked side by side, Javi reached down to grab your hand and interlock his fingers with yours. Neither of you said anything, but you didn’t need to. The smile on both of your faces said everything.

You made your way to the checkout lines, the store being fairly busy for a Sunday Afternoon. You settled on what seemed to be the shortest one, with only a mom, her husband and two little boys in front of you.

“TYLER AND SAMUEL DOOGAN, I SWEAR IF YOU DO NOT STOP CLIMBIN’ ALL OVER THIS CART THIS INSTANT, I WILL TAKE AWAY ALL OF YOUR POKÉMON CARDS FOR THE ENTIRE SUMMER.” You could feel the frustration radiating from the petite woman in front of you without even seeing her face. She turned around to face her husband standing behind her, reading a video game magazine, completely oblivious to his children’s antics. “Randy, can you please just tell them to get off? BOYS, ENOUGH.”

“Yeah, sure honey… Boys, you heard your mother, get down.” Randy muttered, not bothering to take his eyes off the magazine or even attempt to sound convincing.

You said nothing, knowing all too well how big of a pain kids could be, but when you turned up to look at Javi, his face had gone ghost white.

“Oh, fuck…” He muttered under his breath, just barely loud enough for you to hear.

“You okay?”

“Uh yeah, um-” His eyes darted frantically back and forth across the checkout aisles. “Um, it looks like there’s a shorter line over-”

“Javi?” The woman’s Texan twang spoke to him with an unsettling sense of familiarity.

“Hi, Lorraine.”

Oh shit. The wires in your brain clicked as you remember your co-workers mentioning their disdain for this woman. You still weren’t quite sure of her connection to Javi, but given his drained face and her snappy demeanor, you had a feeling this woman was bad news.

“Heard you’re back for good. How are things?”

“Uh, yeah. They’re fine. How about you?” You could practically feel the tension in Javi’s body.

“Fine. TYLER I SWEAR TO GOD.” She whipped her head around once again to yell at the fidgety boy.

“Randy, you remember Javi.”

Randy and Javi said nothing to each other and only exchanged painful grimaces, acknowledging the uncomfortable circumstance they found themselves in.

“What the hell you doin’ at a Toys-R-Us?”

You piped in, trying to give Javi any relief you could. “It’s um, my niece’s birthday. Just going shopping to get her something.”

“And you are?”

Stunned by her bluntness, you found yourself speechless. “Oh, um, I’m um-”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

His what?!

Javi gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. This trip was definitely not going as expected.

“Ah.” Her cold gaze met your shock. “Just be careful with this one.”

“Lorraine…”

“Fine, I won’t say anything else. Just figured she deserved a warning.”

“Lorraine, enough.” You had never heard his voice get that stern. Whatever had gone on between them had definitely not ended on good terms. “Looks like you got what you wanted anyways.” He gestured to the two boys now running wild up and down the checkout line, and Randy absent mindedly staring into his magazine.

If Lorraine’s looks could kill, Javi would be a dead man. Her brow scrunched deeper in anger. “Well, good to see you Javi.” She snapped back around as she picked up the bags at the end of the checkout aisle and grabbed both boys by the back of their shirts. “RANDY! Let’s go!” Finally coming to, Randy meandered behind, following Lorraine and the two squirming boys in her grasp.

“Fuck me…” Javi whispered to himself, running both of his hands over his face.

“Next in line!”

You checked out silently, figuring waiting to get back to the car was a better place to discuss what the hell just happened. The only thing breaking the dead silence on the way back to the truck was the occasional grunt or heavy sigh from Javi. You both took your perspective seats in the car as he started the engine.

“Soooooo… I’m not one to pry, but uh, what happened back there?”

“Fuck, Osita, I’m so sorry.” His fists were basically white knuckling the steering wheel at this point.

“Javi, why are you sorry?”

“Just- fuck. Her and how she talked to you, you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, she seemed delightful.” Javi stared at the roof of his car, breathing deeply. Jokes weren’t going to help the situation. You reached out to grab his arm, causing him to shift his gaze at you. “Javi, like I said, I don’t want to pry, but I promise, whatever you tell me, I’m not gonna judge you for it. I get that shit happens, and it obviously seems like Lorraine isn’t the nicest, I’m sure there’s a good reason for whatever happened between you two.

He let out a few deep breaths, formulating his response. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got plenty of time.”

You grabbed his arm a little tighter, hoping that your sympathetic stare was enough to prove that you weren’t here to judge him for his past.

“Okay. Are you hungry? Do you wanna get lunch and talk about it?”

“I can always eat. What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s a sandwich place a few minutes from here. Been going there a lot since I started the new job. It’s pretty good. Does that work?”

“Love me a good sandwich. Sounds great, Javi.”

He nodded as you gave his muscles one more squeeze before letting him go so he could back out of his parking spot. You waited until he was back on the road to bring up the other no so subtle bomb that had just been dropped.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

A smile finally made its way back to his face.

“Uh, yeah. If uh, if that’s something you want. I know it’s um, kinda fast, but I really like you Osita.”

“I don’t know, I just really want to spend all my time hanging out with this super hot dude who’s sweet and funny and is the best sex I’ve ever had… but him being my boyfriend… I’m not sure…” you giggled and smirked at him.

“Best sex you’ve ever had, huh?” He smirked back at you and raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t let it go to your head too much.” You rolled your eyes and shrugged at him. “I really like you too, Javi. I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Both your faces spread wide with childish grins as you reached over to grab Javi’s hand and intertwine it with yours. Girlfriend. It had a nice ring to it.

Pulling into the small parking lot of Alejandro’s Deli and Sandwiches, you released your hand from his to cup his face, kissing him long and intensely.

“You ready, boyfriend?” Putting an extra emphasis on the last word.

“Yes, let’s go, you dork.”

The shop was small and well loved, and was clearly a favorite in the area. Past the deli counter were a few small sets of tables and chairs, where people were scattered about enjoying their food. As you waited in line and stared at the menu board, Javi’s hand never left yours.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Javi could clearly tell you were having a hard time deciding as the line continued to move forward.

“You’re the sandwich expert here, what do you normally get?”

“Either the club or the roast beef. Everyone says the BLT is good too.”

“Winner, winner, BLT dinner. I was trying to decide between that one and the Italian, but a BLT sounds SO good right now.”

“Do you want to go grab a table for us while I order? It gets busy here and there’s an open spot in the back corner.”

“Sure!” You let go of his hand to begin rummaging through your purse.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking through my purse for the other BLT I had stored in here. I’m getting money so I can pay for my sandwich.”

“You’re not paying for the sandwich.”

“Let me pay for it!”

“You’re not paying for it.”

“Ugh, Javier Peña, don’t deny that you are just as stubborn as I am. Fine, thank you for the sandwich.”

You sat your things down in the windowsill next to the corner in the back of the shop as you waited for Javi to join you. You looked around to see cute photos of what you assumed was Alejandro’s family, a man eating a sandwich as long as him, and 3 kids chasing a dog who had stolen their lunch. Javi returned quickly with your orders, plus a bag of chips and a chocolate chip cookie. “Chips and a cookie? A man after my own heart. Thank you again, this place is super cute!”

“Yeah the guys at the station suggested my first day because my dumbass forgot my lunch.”

You took a big bite of your sandwich as Javi spoke. “Well it’s a 10 out of 10 suggestion, this is the best sandwich I have had in so long.” You took a few more bites before working up the courage to bring up the reason you were eating sandwiches in the first place. “So… Lorraine.”

Javi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a heavy sigh before he spoke. “Yeah… Lorraine.”

You reached across the table to grab his hand. “Javi, like I said before, I’m not here to judge. I get that things happen. I promise, it’s not gonna make me think any less of you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you’re a good person.”

Fuck. That one hit Javi in a way that he wasn’t sure how to feel. In his heart, he had convinced himself that he was the exact opposite. He wasn’t a good person. He didn’t deserve to have people think he was. He wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t someone that people should celebrate. A good person was the last thing he considered himself to be. But here you were. He has let you in to see the glimpses of his past and it only made you want him more. You wanted to be his girlfriend. You wanted to be with him. Despite the things he had done, and the person he so desperately wanted to separate himself from. You cared about him.

“You really want the whole story?”

“I have a full belly, handsome man to stare at while I listen, and all the time in the world. Yes. Full story.”

With a deep breath, Javi began to explain how he had met Lorraine in high school. On a dare from his friends, he asked Lorraine to prom after she had broken up with her all star quarterback boyfriend, and desperate not to go to her Senior year dance alone, she said yes. Things were never really great between them, Javi admitted they were young, stupid and horny, and when it was time for them to leave for different colleges, he had tried to put an end to things. That didn’t stop her from calling Javi every time she was at Texas A&M to visit friends to hook up with him and fuck with his head enough to make him reconsider things, until she left again, leaving him feeling dejected and empty. This went on until they both found themselves back in Laredo after graduating college, Javi working on his family ranch while applying for various law enforcement jobs and Lorraine working at her aunt’s flower shop. Now both back in the same place, Lorraine had approached Javi about wanting to try things again. He didn’t love the idea, but it didn’t stop them from hooking up in the back of his truck after he took her out for dinner a few days later.

A few weeks went by and Javi didn’t hear much from Lorraine, until one day he got a frantic phone call telling him to meet her as soon as possible. Once they were together, Javi found Lorraine crying in the diner parking lot she chose to have him meet at, and their conversation went a little like this:

“Lorraine, what’s wrong?”

“I missed my period. It’s two weeks late.”

“Fuck. How? We used a condom, right?”

“Yes. I don’t know Javi, apparently it can still happen.”

“Fuck me. Shit, um, okay. Okay, fuck. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want all of Laredo to know that you knocked me up on a one night stand. God dammit, Javi, I don’t know? It doesn't look as bad if we were engaged or married, or something!”

“Married?! Lorraine…”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He didn’t. And in that moment, he panicked. How could he not? There was nothing less he wanted than to spend the rest of his life with Lorraine, let alone have a child with her. But he wasn’t going to leave this baby without a father and felt so awful about what he had done to Lorraine. He drove home that night, tears streaming down his face as he tried to come to grips with his fate.

The next two months were a whirlwind, Lorraine trying to plan the wedding as fast as possible to avoid any suspicions of looking pregnant. Flowers, catering, decorations, terrible, uncomfortable suits, Javi hated every moment of it. He was miserable. His parents knew something wasn’t right, despite Javi’s efforts to convince them otherwise. They never cared much for Lorraine to begin with, and the unfortunate circumstances weren’t helping.

A week before the wedding, Javi received a phone call, which to his relief, wasn’t Lorraine. It was a call from a secretary at the DEA office in Texas, asking if Javi wanted to come in and interview for a position. It was the first shred of hope he had felt in months, gladly offering to come in the next day. The interview went so well, the hiring agents offered him the position on the spot. There was only one catch. He was going to be stationed in Colombia, and he needed to leave by the end of the month. When he left, he thanked the team for their time, and told him that he would think about it. Everything in his body wanted to scream “I’ll leave right now, please, anything to get me out of the hell that I’m currently living in!” But he knew he needed to think about it first before he just up and left.

His brain stewed over his possibilities for the next few days, leaving him more absent minded about his impending wedding, even though it was less than a week away. The night before his big day, he couldn’t have felt worse. Lorraine had called him to come over and finish up last minute plans before the day came, and begrudgingly, Javi was at her house, listening to her frantically list of things that needed to happen before tomorrow. Javi didn’t hear a single word that came out of her mouth, and excused himself to go to her bathroom to try and get a moment of peace. After washing his hands, he looked down at the trash can next to the vanity. The next thing he knew, he was carrying the waste basket to Lorraine, using every last ounce of self restraint he had not to completely lose it.

“Lorraine.”

“What?”

“What the fuck is this?” He held up the waste basket, his hands shaking.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Javi?”

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about Lorraine. Why the fuck is your trashcan filled with tampon wrappers and a fucking negative pregnancy test?!”

She sat in silence.

“Lorraine, fucking answer me!”

“My period started last week.”

“And you weren’t going to tell me?!”

“Javi, the wedding is less than a week away!”

“Lorraine, that was the whole fucking reason we were doing this in the first place! What did you expect, for me just to not notice when you didn’t have a kid 7 months from now?! Jesus Fucking Christ.”

“What did you want me to do, Javi?! I can’t just call off the wedding, my parents paid a lot of money for this, there are people coming from all over! It would be embarrassing!”

“I can’t fucking believe this. You were actually going to go through with this and didn’t even care if you told me that you weren’t really pregnant. Unbelievable.” Slamming the trashcan down on the ground, Javi stormed out the door.

“Javi, wait!”

“Fuck you, Lorraine.”

There was no use trying to deny it anymore. When Javi came home, he broke down to his parents what had happened and how this whole mess had begun in the first place. She wasn’t pregnant, he didn’t want to marry her, he wanted to get as far away as possible from the wake of destruction he had left in his past. He practically begged his parents to drop him off at the airport, wanting to leave as soon as he could. As much as his parents hated to see him go, they couldn’t contribute to the pain and guilt their son already felt. That night was spent calling the DEA to accept the position, packing everything Javi could fit in a suitcase and hugging his mom and dad tightly as he said his goodbyes and got ready to board the next plane to Colombia. The next day, Lorraine was so busy preparing herself and getting ready for the wedding, making sure everyone knew the day revolved around her, that she had no idea Javi was already on a plane across the country. It wasn’t until all of the guests were seated and waiting in the pews of the church that they had figured out Javi was gone.

Lorraine had obviously come to some peace about it, hearing through the phone calls with his parents that 8 months later she was engaged to some guy named Randy who had some big wig job in finance. He had been home not too long ago, HR mandating that he had to use some of his PTO days he refused to take, to attend a wedding of one of his dad’s cousins, where he saw Lorraine for the first time since he had left her at the alter. She had been nicer to Javi then, perhaps taking pity on the fact that he looked so sad and desperate as he tried to talk with her. There must have been something about seeing Javi happy with another woman that absolutely set her ablaze, leaving you in the wake of the mess that was Lorraine Doogan.

Javi finished his story with a deep breath and another run of his hand across his face.

“Javi, holy shit.”

“You ready to take back that ‘you’re a good person’ comment yet?”

One hand reached up to cup the side of his strong jaw, while the other grabbed his hand resting on the table that had been curled up in a fist the entirety of telling his story. “Javi, what are you talking about? Of course not. What Lorraine did you was so fucked up, trying to trap you into marrying her with an imaginary baby because she was too embarrassed to say otherwise? I’m so sorry that happened to you, Javi.”

His only response was a half forced smile, his eyes still staring down at the table.

“If it makes you feel any better, her kids are absolute assholes- I know it’s mean to say that about a kid, but it’s true. They go to my school and they’re in the office every day getting yelled at for doing something stupid. To be honest, I kind of think you dodged a bullet on that one.” His face perked up a little more, letting out a small huff of laughter. You pushed his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

“Javier Peña, look at me.” You could almost see the guilt and sadness welling in his eyes. “I do not think you are a terrible person. I promise. Thank you for telling me about this, I’m glad you trust me enough to let me know.” You leaned across the small table between you to give him a kiss.

“Thanks, Osita.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. I’m here to listen whenever you want to talk. Whaddya say we go get the rest of these groceries so we can head back?”

You gathered the remains of your lunch to throw away, taking the unopened bag of chips to go as you buckled back in for your final destination. The grocery store was in the complete opposite direction of your current location, so you began shuffling through the CD compartment in his glove box to try and pick out some music to lighten the mood for your drive.

“Fleetwood Mac, AC/DC, Stevie Wonder, Kenny Rogers… The Grease Soundtrack?! You are a man of many different tastes, Mr. Peña.”

“Okay, the Grease one Steve gave to me as a joke one year for my birthday.”

“And yet, here it is in your car. That means you had to take it all the way back from Colombia with you, unpack it, AND put it in here.” You waved the CD around in your hands, mockingly.

“...Some of the songs are kind of catchy.”

“I knew it!” You popped the CD out of its case and into the radio. “What song do you want?”

“I don’t really know the names of any of them…”

You crossed your arms and smirked at him, knowing sooner or later, he'd give you a response.

“.... You’re The One That I Want.” Javi admittedly defeated.

“Don’t know any of the names, my ass.” You laughed to yourself as you skipped several tracks ahead to Javi’s song selection.

You turned the volume up as you let the music play through John Travolta’s verse, curious to see if you could catch Javi singing along. By the time you were at Olivia Newton-John’s part, you had bursted into full out song, Javi snickering to himself watching your theatrics.

“You better shape up, ‘cause I need a man. And my heart is set on youuuuuuuuu!” You continued your performance through your laughing and dancing. It didn’t take long for you to spy out of the corner of your eye, Javi beginning to mouth the words to himself. You had already teased him enough about his enjoyment of the song that you weren’t about to say a single thing as he sang along. It warmed your heart to see Javi bring down his guard, letting you further and further into the world he lived in. Even if all it was, was singing together in his car. As the song ended, Javi turned down the music, his face suddenly becoming more serious.

“If you ever meet Steve, you have to swear to me you’ll never tell him about this. He will never let me live it down.”

“I’m not sure… I know very little about Steve, but the thought of how much shit he’d give you for your deep, dark, Grease secret does sound entertaining.”

Javi’s mood now having done a complete 180 from your last drive to the sandwich shop, you both headed into the grocery store happy and ready for the last part of your errands. Grabbing a cart, you headed through the produce section, starting with fruits.

“Okay, list says I need apples, bananas, blueberries and maybe strawberries if they’re good.” You both casually strolled, Javi reaching for the items from your list closest to you and putting them into your cart as you continued on your journey. You made your way through vegetables next, Javi very explicitly stating his distaste for the carrot sticks you had on your list.

“They’re so crunchy and bland, and they just remind me of feeding the horses.”

“You have horses at your ranch?”

“Yup, a few of them. Some of our family keeps their horses there, but Pops and I take care of them all.”

“That’s so cool! Do you have any other animals there?”

“Cows and sheep mostly. Some random chickens that we can’t seem to get rid of.”

“That’s amazing. The reason I chose Laredo to move to is because my best friend from elementary school moved down here when we were in high school, and I would visit her family every summer on their ranch. She always made fun of me for how it seemed like I was always more excited to see the animals than her.”

“You can come over to the ranch and see the animals if you want.”

“Really?!”

“Any time, Osita.”

You threw another bag of carrots into your cart. “If I want these horses to like me, I gotta bribe them with something!” Javi laughed, picking the bag up and putting it back with the other carrots.

“Baby, we have plenty of carrots at the ranch. I’m not eating any extras you get.”

You breezed through the rest of your trip, quickly filling up your cart as you and Javi talked more about his ranch, any other foods that fell into the same category as carrots (you were thankful that you both collectively agreed that olives belonged in the same realm), and made fun of you as you put the largest sized vanilla coffee creamer in with the rest of your items. Your checkout line experience was much more pleasant than the one you had experienced a few hours ago. Javi knew the older, frail man working the register, greeting him politely.

“Hi Mr. Garcia, how are you?”

“Javier Peña. Good to see you son. I heard from Chucho you ditched him at the ranch for a new job at the sheriff’s department.”

“I don’t know if ditch is the right word, still try to help out while I can.”

Polite smiles were exchanged as you continued to load items from your cart onto the conveyor belt.

“I don’t think I’ve met your wife before.” Mr. Garcia now looking at you. Javi just about dropped the carton of eggs he was carrying before responding. Part of him almost didn’t even want to correct it.

“Uh, no, um, girlfriend.”

“Well, she’s a cutie.” Mr. Garcia winked at you before you raised your eyebrows to smirk at a now very flustered and embarrassed Javi.

“I don’t know, Jav. Looks like you’ve got some competition. Mr. Garcia seems like a real catch.” You playfully winked back at him, causing the old man to rumble with laughter.

“And funny too.”

You loaded the bags back into your cart and paid for your groceries. As you were sorting, you overhead the two men talking.

“She’s a keeper, Javier.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Now a little louder, Mr. Garcia helped you load the last bag into your cart before saying goodbye. “Nice to see you Javi. Nice to meet you too, sweetheart.”

“Thanks Mr. Garcia, have a nice day!”

You began loading your items into Javi’s trunk, watching as his biceps flexed deliciously as he lifted the bags up to put them away. You really had to convince yourself to focus on putting the rest of your groceries away.

Your errands done for the day, you and Javi began the drive back to your apartment. It hadn’t hit you until you looked at the clock radio in his car that it was already 5 o’clock, and that your time with Javi was starting to dwindle, considering the fact that both of you had to work the next day. You glanced at him as he was driving, aviators propped on his face, the tanned skin of his chest exposed from the buttons he seemed to hate having done up, his arms grasping the steering wheel. The image of him made your heart race. Wanting to make sure you capitalized on your time, and realizing now you had zero self control, you were tempted to ask him to pull over his truck right then and there. No, you can make it until you get home, you horny idiot. You thought to yourself, knowing how pissed you would be if you ruined your groceries all because you couldn’t control yourself for a few more minutes. Subconsciously, you licked around your bottom lip, staring at the gorgeous man next to you.

“Hermosa?”

“Huh, what? Did you say something?” You shook your head to bring yourself back to reality.

“I asked if we needed to stop anywhere before we went back to your apartment.”

“Oh, no. I, uh, I don’t need anything else, sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” Javi prodded, noticing that you hadn’t fully been paying attention.

“No, nothing, I’m good.” He spotted the lie instantly. Grasping around the exposed meat of your thigh he gave it a squeeze before sliding his hand further up your leg.

“Sure you don’t have anything on your mind?” His hand now at your hip, fingers dancing along the hem of your shorts, grazing your skin. He knew exactly what he was doing. Your breathing sped up as you let a gulp fall down your throat. At this point, you were only 5 minutes away from your apartment, but you were absolutely positive you were not going to make it that long. Fuck it, your groceries would be fine, right?

“Pull over.”

Thankful for the long stretches of dirt roads and pockets of abandoned buildings on your way back to your apartment, Javi quickly pulled off to an empty parking lot of a closed down store. You were practically jumping into his lap by the time he had put the car in park. Mouths and tongues clashed as you pulled yourselves into one another. Your kissing reflected the sexual tension that had quickly built up in the truck only minutes ago as you frantically moved about. Feeling how worked up you were already, you sought to seek some form of relief by grinding down on the seam of Javi’s jeans, relieving some of the ache between your legs. Javi grabbed your hips, his fingers digging into the outside of your shorts as he pushed you down into him. He reciprocated the motion, pushing himself up into you, no better than two horny teenagers dry humping in the secret of their parent’s basement. Javi kissed your neck before the tickle of his mustache crept near your ear.

“So needy, baby. Couldn’t wait ‘till we got back, huh?”

In between your mouths meeting you were able to break away for a few moments to respond.

“Well if my boyfriend wasn’t so fucking hot it would have made it a lot easier. I want you so bad Javi.”

Just like that, Javi had you stripped down to your bra, practically ripping your tank top off you. You helped him shuffle down your shorts and thong, taking a moment to smack it against your ass before it looked around your ankles. His hand reached down to palm around your pussy, already wet from the short time you had spent grinding into his lap. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your folds, collecting your slick before dipping inside of you.

“Fuck Hermosa, always so wet for me. Want me to cum inside you like I did this morning? Fill you up?

Before you could answer, his thumb began a frantic pace against your clit to match the pace his fingers pumped in and out of you. He pulled his face closer into your breasts, kissing around them and sucking on your pebbled nipples. Your hips grinded down on his hand, pushing his fingers deeper in you. You tilted your head back and moaned in pleasure. His fingers continued in and out, hitting the spongy spot deep inside you that made you feel like you were about to come undone. That, matched with his calloused thumb rubbing against your bundle of nerves had you on the edge of collapse.

“Javi, fuck, fuck I’m almost there, I’m gonna-“

You felt the coil in your belly snap suddenly, as pleasure ran though you with a sheer intensity. Your hips came to a stop as you slumped into his body, breathing heavily. Your head rested in the crook of his neck as he whispered to you.

“Such a good fucking girl. Always taking me so well.”

As he watched you come down from your high, he gently pushed you further down his lap to undo his belt buckle and slide down his pants and boxers just low enough to let his already hard cock spring to its release. You scooted yourself further up again, licking your palm to wrap around Javi’s girth, stroking him a few times before raising your hips up to slowly sink down on his length. You gasped at the sweet sting of his size inside you, taking your time to adjust, lowering down on to him inch by inch. You both moaned as you bottomed out on him and you began to move yourself up and down, feeling him repeatedly filling you and hitting that incredible spot inside you. Javi wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest as you sped up the intensity of your movements. Your clit rubbed against the jeans scrunched around his thighs as he began to lift his hips up into you.

“You feel so good, baby. Feels so good so deep in me, fuck.”

Javi watched you, awe struck as you continued to ride him, your boobs bouncing with each thrust, and head thrown back in pleasure as you bit down on your bottom lip.

“Jesus, you’re perfect, Hermosa. So tight and wet, so fucking sexy.

There was something about the low rasp of his voice singing your praises that absolutely made you lose your mind. The pace you now found both yourselves moving at was becoming fast and sloppy, so enthralled by each other, you could have cared less about the steering wheel digging into your back. You were filled by his deep, hard strokes, his dick repeatedly filling you and hitting you in a way that made your muscles begin to tense. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he reached beneath you to rub your clit. The tension spread through your body, your orgasm making you scream in delight. The pulsing of your pussy squeezed around Javi’s cock, practically sending him over the edge with you.

“Javi, holy fuck. I want you to come, baby. I want you to come inside me. It’s all yours.

Yours. You were all his. Your words sent him over the edge, knowing that he was the only one you wanted to be with. The only one to please you. The only one to make his mark inside of you. Only a few strokes more and Javi hit his high, letting out a low whimper as he felt himself release inside your warm, tight walls. His dick pulsed as his seed spilled into, leaving you two slumped into each other, breathless. A few moments after you both came to, you finally felt the wet spot you had left over Javi’s jeans, a mix of the two of you staining the denim.

“Fuck, Javi, I’m sorry, I fucking ruined your jeans.”

“They’re just jeans, Osita. Besides, it was fucking hot.”

You could see the dark pools of his eyes growing darker with lust as he reached down to the inside of your thigh, dripping with the combination of your release.

“Will you keep me inside you, baby? Keep you inside me so you know that you’re mine even when I have to leave?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Fuck. His request filled you with joy and hurt at the same time. You were his. Fucking his. At the same time, the thought of having come back to reality after the fantasy you had been living in the past 24 hours stung.

“I don’t want you to have to leave.” Shit, was that too needy? He had just spent the whole day with you. The little voice in the back of your head screamed at you again. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.

“I don’t want to have to leave either, Osita. I’m not going yet, I’ll hang out as long as I can. Would be a lot easier if we didn’t have to go to work tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Phew. “I don’t mean to ruin this super sweet and sexy moment, but do you think you can take your dick out of me so my groceries don’t go bad?”

You both laughed, Javi complying to your request as you shuffled off of his lap into the passenger seat, shimmying your clothes back on. He scooted his jeans back over him, tucking himself back in before doing up his belt buckle.

The trip back to your apartment was embarrassingly short, given that you couldn’t have made it approximately 4 more minutes before arriving back. Javi helped you gather your things, making fun of the thought of you trying to carry all your grocery bags up in one trip, you convincing him that you really could do it, if it was a smaller trip. Javi was very impressed with your organization as you put everything away in its exact spot, making unloading the groceries much quicker than expected. After you had finished, you looked back at Javi leaning against the counter.

“Javi, that stain on your jeans looks like you peed yourself, I feel really bad. Do you want me to wash them for you? I don't want you to have to carry evidence from the scene of the crime back home with you. I have laundry I have to do anyway, it’s no big deal at all.”

“That would probably be a good idea. Are you trying to get me to stay longer by holding my pants hostage in the wash?” You outstretched your hand.

“Guilty, your honor. Pants me, Peña.”

Another reason you had chosen your apartment was the in unit washer and dryer. The pain of having to haul your laundry from your 11th floor Chicago apartment down to a basement that looked like it was straight out of a horror movie was one of your least favorite chores, so having the ability to clean your clothes from the comfort of your room was a plus.

Javi undid his belt and slid both his pants and underwear down to the floor, leaving his bottom half very blatantly naked.

“Oh shit, I forgot you didn’t have any other pants.”

“Also part of your plan?”

“Surprisingly, no. Oh, I actually think I have a pair of my brother’s shorts that accidentally got packed away with my stuff when I moved!”

“I don’t mind.”

“Don’t mind oing full Winnie the Pooh until your pants are clean? Javi, believe me, I am not mad about this.” you gestured to his crotch. “The problem is, if your dick keeps staring at me like that, I will literally get nothing done the rest of the day, and I have to at least try a LITTLE bit to be productive.”

“Fair enough.” He waited as you shuffled through your drawers to find an old pair of gray cotton shorts, bringing them out and tossing them to him as you grabbed your hamper, made your way to the laundry room, and filled up your washer with your dirty clothes and Javi’s pants. After you had started up the wash cycle, you made your way back to the kitchen, where Javi was still standing, now covered by the shorts you had given him.

“God dammit, Javi.”

“What?” His face surprised as you came back into the kitchen.

“I think the shorts are making it worse.”

“What worse?”

“You might as well be naked, cause I can see… Well let’s just say that there’s very little left to the imagination and I will be using every ounce of willpower to keep myself from crawling all over you. Do you realize how hot you are? It’s truly not fair. Okay, let me just stare at you for one more second and then I can move on.” You crossed your arms as you looked Javi up and down while he chuckled to himself.

“You good?” He laughed.

“Good now.” You giggled, taking one more long look.

“What else do you want to get done tonight?”

“Well normally on Sunday I do laundry and just get ready for the week, make food, stuff like that. It makes it so much better, one, having you here, even though you’re making the getting things done part more challenging, and two because it’s finally the last week of school and the last time I have to do this again until August.”

“When’s your last day of school?”

“Thursday. Only 4 more days, even though it feels like it's going to be 154.”

“Are you doing anything on Thursday?”

“Besides collapsing into a pile from the relief that the school year is done, no. Why?”

“Can I take you out to celebrate your last day of school?”

You blushed. It shocked you how genuinely thoughtful Javi was. Or maybe, you had grown to accept your significant others not having any interest in you at all. There was one summer where it was the middle of July and Paul had asked you why you hadn’t been going into work, like he had literally forgotten what you did for a living, let alone take you out to celebrate it.

“Are you asking me on a date, Javi?” You teased, playfully.

He blushed too. “Yeah, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. That’s really sweet of you. What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about dinner and a movie? Since you seem to enjoy giving me such a hard time about the lack of movies I’m caught up on.”

“I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate.” You leaned into him wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. “I really want to see you before, but the end of the school year is absolutely insane, and there’s school events every night this week.”

“It’s okay, I remember how stressed my mom would be at the end of the year. The last week of school, my mom would tell me and my dad “Por favor. No me hables hasta los niños estan libres.”

“What does that mean?”

“Please don’t talk to me until the children are free.”

“Your mom hit the nail on the head with that one. Well I’m really excited for Thursday, thanks Javi.”

“Me too, Osita.”

You stared at each other for a moment in silence, taking the other in. Javi’s hand released itself from your waist to brush away hair from your face before cupping the side of your jaw to kiss you. Your heart sped up anytime Javi’s lips met yours, but there was something about this kiss that felt different. It was sweet. Tender. Gentle. The kind of kiss that screamed I’m so lucky you’re mine without saying a word. A kiss you hoped you’d never had to live without.

“I like you a lot, Javi.”

“I like you a lot too, Osita.”

“Sooooo, I have at least another hour and a half of keeping your pants hostage, and we clearly need to get you up to speed on your movie knowledge before Thursday, do you want to pick something out to watch?”

“Didn’t you say you had things you wanted to get done?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, well, those can be tomorrow's problems. Go pick out a movie you haven’t seen yet and now that I have real food, I’ll go get some snacks for us while we watch!”

“Sounds like a great plan.” He kissed the top of your head as you parted ways. You went to the kitchen to microwave a bag of popcorn while Javi spent a long time very intently staring at the VHS collection below your TV. You returned with a big bowl filled to the brim, curious to see what Javi’s pick would end up being. “Alright, I’m excited to see what we get to watch tonight!” You set the bowls down on the table at the end of your couch, unfolding one of the fluffy blankets you had draped over the end.

“I have a feeling you’re gonna be happy we’re watching it, but not happy about the fact I picked it.” He took the VHS from behind his back and placed it on your lap.

“NO. JAVI. YOU’VE NEVER SEEN STAR WARS?!”

“No…”

“SERIOUSLY?”

“Technically I did see it once when I was in high school but I don’t remember anything about it because I took a girl on a date to go see it and we just sat in the back of the theater and made out the whole time.”

“Romantic. Hate to break it to you, that will not be happening tonight if we’re watching this.” You patted the seat next to you on the couch, ushering him to go sit down as you pushed in the tape and pressed play. “I know I said Indiana Jones was my favorite movie but I actually think I lied. It’s 100% Star Wars.”

Without hesitation, you curled up next to Javi resting your head into his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you in closer as the theme music for the opening credits began blaring through your speakers. As the movie started, you could tell Javi was trying his hardest to watch intently, asking the occasional question to make sure he understood what was happening.

“Why do the tiny people in the robes have no faces and yellow eyes? Are they supposed to be bad guys? They’re not very scary.”

“They’re Jawwas, Javi. They’re little sand creatures that collect scrap parts and sell them. They’re not really good or bad, they just kind of hang out on Tatooine.”

“Jesus, you’re a bigger nerd than I thought.”

“Just shhhh and watch the movie.” You lovingly gave Javi a shove as he snickered.

As the movie continued, the two of you found yourselves sinking further and further into the couch, Javi now laying flat on his back, head propped against the pillows, and you on top of him, head propped on his chest. One of his arms rested on top of your back, tracing back and forth along your shoulders, the other demolishing handfuls of popcorn from the bowl he had found next to him. Javi definitely didn’t strike you as someone who would be much of a cuddler, but in the short time you had spent with him, you quickly realized this man wanted to be touching you in some way, shape or form at all times. He may have looked tough, but this man was a big ole softie. Right around the point where Luke, Han and Chewie were making their way to break Princess Leia out of her cell, you pushed yourself up off of Javi with a quick kiss.

“Hey wait, where are you going? It’s getting really good!” He grabbed your hand, almost pleading with his puppy dog eyes for you to stay on the couch with him.

“I just have to go change the laundry to the dryer really quick, unless you wanna go home in wet denim. Also apparently get more popcorn “Mr. No I’m not that hungry, I don’t want any”. I’ll be right back, promise.”

You gave him a quick kiss as you got up, threw another bag of popcorn in the microwave and moved your clothes to the dryer. Shaking the hot popcorn bag and refilling your bowl, you climbed back on top of Javi, nestling yourself comfortably against his broad frame. You were relieved that Javi was genuinely into the movie, making comments and remarks after big action scenes, popcorn making a constant path from the bowl to his mouth. He was like a 12 year old boy trapped in a grown man’s body. It made you wonder how many other people had gotten to see this side of Javi before. It was no secret to you that whatever past he carried weighed on him heavily. His mom, Lorraine, Colombia. Even though you didn’t know the whole story, it made you hopeful to think you could be part of a new chapter that brought him a little more joy than he had before.

As the ending scene credits rolled, you leaned your head up to him. “Soooooo… what’d ya think? Better than a high school make out session in a dark movie theater?”

“There’s other ones right? Can we watch more of them? Osita, I can see why you like this so much. There’s some stuff in it that’s fuckin’ weird, but I guess it’s space, but it was really good.”

“Absolutely we can. I do hope you know, the more we watch, the nerdier I will get.”

As the VHS ended and a silence filled the room, you realized the dryer was finished and had stopped running, and the monotonous tick of the clock behind your TV read 9:17 PM. You couldn’t bring yourself to ask Javi to leave. How could you? But your lack of accomplished to-do’s and the looming screams of 8 and 9 year olds at 7:30 tomorrow morning already had you feeling the impending headache already building behind your eyes. The huff of disappointment you let out of you was much louder than you had hoped, and Javi knew exactly why.

“I don’t want to go either, Osita. But tomorrow is gonna kick both of our asses if I don’t leave.”

“Yeah, I know…” your lip let out a pout.

“Thursday will come fast, I promise. Even if I can’t see you, I’ll call you and we can at least talk on the phone if you’re up for it.”

“Fine. I will release you and your jeans from my custody. Let me go grab them for you.”

Hopping off the couch, you threw your clean clothes back into your hamper to be sorted later, pulling out Javi’s jeans and boxers to give back to him.

Bringing the pair back to the couch, you found Javi leaning against the back of your couch, waiting for you to return.

“Just so you know, in this apartment, there is a 3 kiss minimum to obtain any clothing items belonging to your bottom half.” You pressed into him, dangling the pants and underwear in your outstretched arm.

“What happens if I give you more than 3?”

“You can use them as a down payment towards your next set of pants you need to get back from me.”

“God, you’re such a dork.”

“Kiss me or lose the pants, Peña. Choice is yours.”

You shrieked and dropped the jeans as Javi suddenly wrapped his arms underneath you and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“One…” He leaned in to peck your lips in between your giggles.

“Two…” Another kiss landed on your mouth, a little longer than the last.

“Three.” A final slow and sweet set of lips grazed across yours, his mustache tickling you as he pulled away and set you gently back on your feet.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Javi laughed as he reached down for his clothes, shuffling the gray shorts down his legs, and exchanging them for his boxers and jeans. “Could be worse.” As he finished running his belt through the jean’s loopholes, you went to your fridge to rip a fresh piece of paper from your grocery list, and began scribbling.

“For you.” You reached out your arm, handing Javi a note with your phone number and a smiley face and a cute doodle of a bear.

“Thanks, Osita.” You found yourself both begrudgingly making your way to the front door, as Javi slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys, finally admitting defeat that the weekend had to come to an end.

“Will you call me when you get home so I know you made it back safe?”

“Of course.” He reached down to cup your face, your lips meeting one last time, savoring every sweet second before he pulled away to run a hand through your hair and kiss the top of your head. “I’ll pick you up on Thursday, okay?”

“Okay.”

He reached down for the doorknob, slowly twisting it and opening the door, revealing the empty hallway he was about to walk down. “I’ll see you soon, Osita.”

“Not soon enough. See you on Thursday, Javi.”

He gave your outstretched hand one more squeeze before finally letting go, the door quietly clicking as it shut behind him.

In that moment, there was one thing you knew for certain. You had it bad for Javier Peña.

Finally coming down from your lovestruck high, you looked around your apartment to realize you had done very few things on your list to get ready for tomorrow. Mentally prioritizing, you cleaned up your living room, laid out your clothes, and changed your sheets, making a note that if you were going to keep seeing Javi like this, there needed to be more in the rotation. Once you finished, you brought your laundry out to the living room, turning on the TV and folding, waiting for Javi to call.

Little did you know, Javi spent the entire rest of his ride home imagining you by his side, as listened to the rest of the Grease soundtrack.

As he pulled into the ranch and made his way into the house, he had never been more relieved to find his dad passed out in his armchair with the TV blasting, thankful to avoid questionings about his whereabouts- at least for now.

Quietly making his way to his room and closing the door, he took the cell phone out of his back pocket, along with your note, and pressed his fingers into each number.

You barely let one ring go by before dropping the laundry that was in your hands and springing towards the phone.

“Hi, Javi.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Not many people are calling me at 9:45 at night just to chat. You make it home okay?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ll let you get to bed, but I just wanted to let you know I had a lot of fun this weekend. I’m uh, I’m really glad that you like spending time with me.”

“I am too, Javi. I haven’t had this much fun in a really long time.”

“I’ll call you later this week and we can talk details for Thursday?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Okay. Duerme bien y dolces sueños, Osita.”

Something about his voice in Spanish practically melted your heart. “Something about good and sweet?” You tried to translate.

“Sleep well and sweet dreams.”

“Well in that case, duerme bien y dolces sueños a ti tambien, Javi.”

“Bye, Osita.”

“Bye.”

After hearing the click on the end of your line, you hung your phone back on the receiver, putting your hands in your face and letting out a little scream to yourself. Yeah, you had it REAL bad for Javier Peña.

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skeletonapricationday · 10 months

Text

Naughty girl

Warnings: Porn w/o plot, fem reader x nanami, deephthroating, face fucking, angry Kento, use if whore.

18+ minors dni

Nanami stared as you bent over the desk, looking for your lost pen. You had it five seconds ago, you kept swearing that up and down. It was frustrating because you were distracting him from his work.

Nanami wasn't a very sexual man. He lived to work and go home, that was it. Simple and sweet. Yet he was still a man at the end of the day. Seeing you bend over in that skirt, scrambling all around his office for your pen. It was troubling. He sighs and stands.

"If I promise to help you look will you leave my office?" He says in a gruff. His deep voice echoing off the walls.

"Yes sir-e!" You say excitedly and innocently. "I swear I used it yesterday to help you with that report. Now its missing, like missing missing." You say with a small pout. That cute quiver of your lip catching his vision. He tilts his head away, trying to ignore you.

"Why can't I just give you one of my pens?" He says exasperated.

"Because you also gave me this pen, so it's my favorite pen. No other pen will feel the same!" You shout confidently and annoyingly.

"If you like that one so much because I gave it to you, why not just let me give you a new one? You make no sense." He says logically, as always. Yet this wasn't about logic. He gave you this pen two years ago, when you finally cracked a thin layer of his hard shell. It was a sign of friendship and good faith, you were not going to give up on this.

"Because-because I want this specific pen okay." You say emrbassed. Not at all willing to admit the true reason to the logic king himself.

He nods slowly, like he wasn't going to bother arguing further. Simply scanning a bookshelf, seeing if you mistakenly placed it there. He swears to himself that the intelligent woman yesterday who helped him fill out that report is the same scatterbrain currently looking for her pen. Obliviously showing her body off in several interesting positions.

You slowly get onto your hands and knees, sticking a hand under the couch. Seeing if you can feel anything underneath. When you don't you arch your hips up further to keep yourself from slipping, as you peep your head underneath. "It's dark and dusty under here. I always thought you had too much OCD to not dust under the couch." You tease playfully. Just trying to joke with the serious man, like normal.

"Shut up and stop looking under there." You here the blank reply from behind you.

"No need to get so defensive. Of course this place isn't going to be sparkly clean, you work too much. Yknow I really respect that about-" You squeak as you're cut off. Your ankle being grapped, forcibly pulled from under the couch.

"Did you not hear me the first time?" He asks, using your ankle to flip you onto your back. "Or do I have to shout." The last half is also a question, yet he says it like a statement. His voice always cold and callous, despite his actual kind nature.

You blush at how strong he was. It was juxtaposition to your strength. Enough cursed energy to be a sorcerer compared to normal humans, but so weak you had to be an assistant. "Nanami...this position is a bit...interesting?" You say softly and confused.

"And your last position wasn't?" He drops your ankle. Giving you a chance to slowly rise up, sitting on your knees emrbassed. "If you're going to wear a skirt, please be self aware." He states simply.

Wait, what did he mean by that. Suddenly your whole face flushes, realizing you've been flaunting your ass. Basically putting yourself on display.

Nanami clears his throat, surprisingly loosening his tie a bit. Rubbing the side of his face annoyed and...flushed.

"Look I'm sorry...I just didn't think about it." You say shyly, biting your bottom lip. As much as you dreamed of Nanami lustfully gazing at your backside, you never meant to accidently do it. In your fantasy it was always purposful, taking advantage of his cold demeanor by turning him on. This was not a fantasy, you're right in front of him.

He stares down at you and sighs. "Come on, up off your knees." He says softly. That sentence makes you discretly clench your thighs. Imagining those words in a different scenario. You look at his offered hand and take it, slowly standing with his help.

"You didn't do it on purpose, it's okay." He's say in a coo, almost like he felt bad.

"What if I did?" You ask, surprising even yourself. You didn't do this on purpose, why did you say that? More importantly, why didn't you stop yourself?

"What?" You hear by your side. Looking at his stern face. Waiting for digust to roll in, hell maybe he'll even shout. Tell you to get out of his office, even worse maybe fire you.

Suddenly he laughs. Gripping onto the side of his desk...laughing. "You have alot of nerve." He says walking over to you. Raising a hand to your face. You expect the sting of a slap, but instead he squishes your cheeks together. "Cause then I'd call you an attention seeking whore." He tsks his tongue and smiles. An annoyed grin, faux politeness despite his harsh words.

"I-uhm- sorry I didn't really mean-" The pressure of his grip grows. Stopping you mid sentence.

"I won't hear any of your excuses." He pushes you against his desk, the table digging into the back of your thighs. A small patch of arousal staining your underwear. "In fact I'll reward you."

"What?" You say confused, knitting your brows. He lets out a small cold huff. Slipping his hand from your chin to down your throat. Softly rubbing the side of your neck.

"If your goal was to provoke me- it worked." His other free hand grabs yours. Pressing it against his thigh. You feel his hot throbbing length struggling not to reveal itself. "Do you know how hard it is trying to keep my dick tucked while helping you look around?" He coos to you. His fingers wrap around yours, causing you to the feel the entirety of his girth. "C'mon don't be shy now."

"Is that really...wow." You say breathlessly. The huge thing in your hand really was his cock. Straining against his professional trousers. "Why didn't you say anything?" You say softly. Gripping it curiously with your fingers, earning a soft groan from him.

"Its not exactly professional to hit on your assistant...also a tad too clichéd." He replies honestly. Running the hand on your neck down to your skirt. Flipping it up and letting out a soft pleased sigh. "I'm not one for business and pleasure but, this damned skirt." He chuckles softly. Rubbing your left thigh, watching it jiggle in response. "God it gets me rock hard."

You shiver at his touch. His hands warm against your thigh, but the heat of your aching cunt is hotter. "Nanami..." You whisper his name out softly.

He tsks his tongue in response. "I got my hand up your skirt, call me Kento." He leans in and kisses your neck softly, nibbling at the soft flesh. His hot breath sending goosebumps. "Kay'?" He whispers into your ear.

You nod softly. Letting out small sounds of pleasure as his lips travel across your throat. "Kento please your hand...it can go further than my thigh."You squeak out. Hoping the muscular man gets the message.

"Oh I know...but you've been naughty. Why would I give you what you want?" He coos backing away from you. Even pulling your hand away from his dick. "It be more punishing to leave you a dripping wet needy mess." He says with a smirk. A thing you never expected to see on his face. The pure unbridled joy he has in teasing you. Getting revenge for your two years of oblivious actions.

He smiles at you and sits back down in his desk chair. Going back to reviewing his documents despite your whines of protest. "Kento please.." You say walking behind his chair. Wrapping your arms around him, hands splayed across his chest. Rubbing the hard planes of muscle. "I don't even have to feel good, I just wanna feel you." You tempt into his ear. Kissing underneath it. He huff in response and expertly pulls your hands off his chest.

"I'd stop now. Bad girls get punished." He speaks sternly. Not at all humoring you. You don't listen and walk to the front of his chair, dropping to your knees, rubbing your face against his thigh. He finally lets go of his document. "Do you really want it that bad?" He coos softly. Like a false sense of security.

You nod against his thigh, looking up at him with a lust addled gaze. He gives you an evil smile, one that sends shivers down your spine. He undoes his belt buckle, tugging his pants and boxers to free himself. His huge length standing proudly at attention. "Go on pretty girl." He says brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. "Give it a taste." He says smiling.

You listen excitedly. Falling right into his trap as your lips curl around his cock. Slowly bobbing your head down after swirling your tongue around his tip. A pleasnt salty bead of precum meeting your tongue. You can only fit half of him in your mouth, even without a gag reflex the pure girth was already stretching your jaw. He throws his head back and groans. "Finally...a way to shut you up." He says happily, almost relaxed.

His hand curls into your hair, gripping it at the base. Successfully pulling your hair out of your way. A part of you was about to mention how sweet it was until. He grips hard and slams your head down, painfully making you take the rest of him down your throat. Your nose pressed against the soft curls of his pubes. A small surprised gag leaves your lips. "Oh darling don't you remember. You've been naughty, and naughty girls get what?" He asks you. He looks down at you amused for a second. Using his hand to pull you up and down on him. Small tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "I forgot, can't talk with your mouth full can you?" He laughs and groans. The two sounds like music to your ears.

This was gonna be a harsh night.

#x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #no use of y/n #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #jjk fanfic #no plot whatsoever #no plot to be found #lime #lemon

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ashwhowrites · 2 years

Note

Hi! I have a bitchy reader idea! If this is too specific, feel free to change things or ignore it! :)

Eddie knows how to calm down his baby, right? So she's snapping at everyone all morning and by the time it's lunch, everyone is silent or whispering to each other. Eddie just sits her on his lap and he "makes" her eat lunch. Which makes her just melt into him and start being a bit nicer.

Adorable!

Short blurb- not proofread

Everyone was slowly seeing that Y/N was not meant to be messed with today. She came in blazing, fire underneath her feet and a stare to bury anyone under. She huffed and puffed the whole morning. Biting off everyone's head, even if she didn't mean to.

"Chrissy I love you but if I hear one more thing about your routine I will injure every cheerleader"

"my bad, looks like someone hasn't seen her boyfriend yet" Chrissy laughed, teasing her as Y/N rolled her eyes

"please. He'll just piss me off more" Y/N defended, crossing her arms

"yeah right. That boy has you wrapped around his finger" Chrissy teased, smirking as Y/N grew even more annoyed

"no one has me wrapped around their finger!"

"Dustin, blow a bubble with your gum one more time and I'm going to make you choke on it" she snapped, eyes glaring as she stared at him

"sorry" Dustin mumbled, chewing his gum quietly

"shut up" she snapped again, going back to her homework

"where's Eddie when you need him" Dustin said to himself

"have you seen Eddie yet?" He asked

"Eddie doesn't do shit!" She snapped, why did everyone say that?

"Lucas, if you complain about your little girlfriend issues one more time, I'm gonna shove a basketball up your ass" slamming her locker as she turned to Lucas, her locker neighbor

"I just wanted advice!" He defended

"I already told you. Max doesn't want to talk about her problems so leave her alone until she's ready" she argued

"but when you don't want to talk, Eddie makes you feel better" Lucas defended

"Eddie's different. You can't be mad at that face, but yours? Very easy to be mad at. I'm mad at it right now" she smirked

"I'll talk to you once you've seen Eddie" Lucas laughed, walking away

"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN!"

"Mike, just shut up" she groaned, throwing her hands over her ears as Mike talked in her ear

"I'm talking about my weekend!" He exclaimed

"I never asked" she mumbled, walking faster to class

"someone hasn't seen Eddie yet"

"COME ON!"

Gareth was the final target of the morning

"move now" she snapped, shoving Gareth over at the lunch table

"what? I always sit here" he argued, using his hands to gesture to himself

"well I want to sit here today" she argued, throwing her backpack on the floor

"well you can't. Sit on the other side" he scoffed

"no! I want to sit in that seat, so fucking move"

"no"

"yes"

"no"

"yes! Move!" She argued again, pushing his shoulders

"FINE!' he gave up, moving to the other side of the table. She smiled as she sat in the chair, the spot where Eddie would be sitting next to.

"how long until Munson is here?" He whispered

Dustin, Mike, and Lucas all refused to answer, ignoring his question as they looked away

"what's with the silence?" Eddie laughed as he sat down, slamming down his lunchbox. Kissing Y/N's cheek as he greeted her

"nothing" Dustin said quickly

All eyes looking at her

"baby, are you having a bad morning?" Eddie asked, noticing all eyes landing on her, in a scared manner

"no I'm fine" she smiled

"you sure? Everyone seems tense" He asked again. He knew she was bitching everyone out

He had countless friends running to him and begging him to find her soon

"yes I am fine!" She snapped, rolling her eyes

"there it is. Come here" he laughed, patting his knee

She rolled her eyes again, groaning as she got up and placed herself on his knee

The table sat in silence, watching as Eddie opened his lunch box and handed her a sandwich

"I don't want tur-"

"eat it" he demanded

She huffed and slowly munched on the sandwich, picking at the small bag of carrots Eddie also took out

The table continued to watch the scene, her slowly melting into Eddie's lap. His arm wrapped around her stomach as he picked at his own food. Her hand resting on top of his, playing with his rings absentmindedly. It was normal for the couple to touch each other without even noticing

"I like your shirt Dustin" she complimented, an actual smile on her face

"love you baby" Eddie whispered, kissing her cheek

She giggled and kissed him back

All the annoyance gone in her expression

"the power of Eddie fucking Munson" Gareth laughed to himself

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson request #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson x bitch reader

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literaryavenger · 10 months

Text

Broken - part 5

Summary: You and Bucky keep bonding.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Mentions of Bucky's past and nightmares. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.2K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: I decided on the ending for this story, and I have only one more chapter to go! Enjoy, the last one will probably come sometime tomorrow. Also, again, it's 4:30 am and I can't help myself lol.

Masterlist

Spending time with Cassie you couldn’t help but feel better.

The more you have fun and laugh with the little girl, the more you forget about your anger against the team.

It also helps that you spend most of the day away from them, eating lunch with Cassie and Scott, who you didn’t stay mad at for too long. To be fair to him you didn’t even know him when everything happened so you don't blame him too much.

As promised, Bucky comes looking for you as soon as he and Steve get back to the tower, finding you still on Scott's floor while you guys watch Despicable Me inside a huge blanket fort Cassie insisted on building in the middle of the floor of the living room.

Thankfully the other occupants of this floor, Bruce, Thor and Loki, are still in New Asgard. He’s just about to turn around and go back to his room when you notice him.

"Hey Bucky! Where are you going, how did it go?" he looks uncertainly at Scott and his daughter before answering.

"I was just gonna…" he trails off, pointing behind him towards the elevator.

"Nonsense, come here." you tell him, patting the seat next to you in the fort.

He’s a little hesitant, but slowly comes further into the room, sitting on the ground, leaving a little space between you.

You give him a smile that he shyly returns before you hear a little voice clearing her throat, which brings your attention to the little girl on your right. "Yes, Princess Cassie?"

"And who would this be, Queen Y/N?" Bucky’s a little confused by the interaction, but says nothing.

"This is Bucky. What title would you like to give him?" Cassie thinks about it for a second while staring very intently at Bucky, narrowing her eyes at him, and you can’t hide your amusement.

That is, until Cassie suddenly lands on a role for Bucky.

"He should be the King!" she says, looking from him to you a couple of times "You guys look good together." you’re about to say something, when Scott beats you to the punch.

"She’s right, I can see it." he says putting his hands up and looking through them to frame you and Bucky together, clearly much more amused than you are at the situation.

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape this. "Well, what Princess Cassie says goes. I’m sorry, King Bucky, you’re stuck with me now."

You turn to Bucky who's still very confused, and is now also starting to turn slightly pink, so you decide to explain.

"We’re playing make believe. Cassie is the Princess, Scott is the Jester and I’m the Queen. I’m sorry to inform you you’ve been crowned King of the castle." you gesture to the fort with your hands.

"And also Y/N’s husband!" Cassie feel the need to shout, making your head snap to her with wide eyes while Bucky turns even redder, your own face starting to change color now.

"He gets it, Princess." you try not to snap at her, she’s just a kid and doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s still pretty embarrassing.

You see Scott snickering behind Cassie and glare at him as much as you can trying to go unnoticed by her, but Cassie's attention is on the super soldier now.

"You're going to play with us, right?" she asks him in a sweet voice, making the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen. She certainly knows what she's doing.

Bucky, who hasn't said anything until now, doesn't know what to do. He looks at you for help and you give him an encouraging smile.

He then looked at Scott, worried that the man might want Bucky anywhere near his daughter, but Scott simply nods his head with a smile.

Bucky relaxes a bit and turned his attention back to the little girl, trying to find the right thing to say.

"Of course I'll play with you. After all, the Princess’ word is law." Cassie starts giggling at the bow he gives her, and you're almost giddy at seeing this side of Bucky, more relaxed than he's been since he got here.

Granted, it was just a couple of days ago, but he seems to be making a lot of progress really fast, so far, just like Steve said after he hugged you yesterday morning.

You keep watching the movie, then the second one and you get halfway through the third when Maggie comes by to pick up Cassie.

So, with the promise not to finish the movie without her, you and Bucky say goodbye to all three and make your way to your shared floor.

"You were right, she really is adorable." Bucky says with a smile as you get into the elevator.

"I know, it’s pretty hard to stay mad at Scott when he lets me hang out with her." you smile back at him. "So, how did your meeting go?"

You see Bucky tense and feel a little bad. You really didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but you were genuinely curious and also wanted to support him. After all you know having a hearing isn’t certainly gonna be easy.

"I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to." You quickly reassure him and he seems to relax and gives you a nod.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let it go. But Bucky had a question himself.

"Why are you ignoring everyone but me?" you sigh.

You don't blame him for being curious, you yourself are as nosy as they come. Always in a respectful manner, of course.

"I’m mad at them." You simply say. "They selfishly kept a pretty big thing from me. They made me feel bad, knowing they were lying to me. They’re my family, they should trust me more than this. I’ll get over it, eventually, but for now I’m happy avoiding everybody." you shrug. You know it’s kind of childish, but you also don’t care.

"Okay, I understand that… But why are you not avoiding me?" Now you’re confused.

"Why would I avoid you?" he bows his head in shame, not meeting your eyes as you exit the elevator and you already know you’re not going to like his answer.

"I’m the reason it all happened in the first place… it’s all my fault." You can feel the sadness in his voice, you can see he actually feels bad about causing this.

You, on the other hand, don't agree.

"Bucky," you start, stopping right in front of him, forcing him to stop too, looking up and quickly putting his hands on your arms to make sure you don't fall after almost colliding with you. "you can’t blame yourself for other people’s choices. Steve chose to help you, Tony chose to fight it, everybody else chose a side. None of it was on you. You didn’t ask anybody to do anything. So, please, stop feeling guilty."

Bucky looks at you silently for a few moments and you feel like he's searching your face for any hint that you might be lying, that you don't really believe what you were saying.

But he doesn't to find any so he nods and says "I’ll try." with his hands still on your arms and it's like you're suddenly registering just how close he is and how warm his touch is on your skin.

He’s about to say something else, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky drops his hands from you like they burned and you turn around, almost feeling like you got caught doing something wrong when you see Steve and Sam just standing there looking at you two.

Steve has that stupid grin on his face that he doesn’t seem to be able to wipe every time he sees you and Bucky together, but Sam looks more concerned than anything.

"Everything okay here?" he says and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his insinuation that something might be wrong just because you’re alone with Bucky.

You turn back to the brunette super soldier and smile at him "I’m gonna go to my room, I still have some reports to finish. See you later?"

You wait until he nods and then get on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek like this morning, smiling a little more when you back away and see a little pink hue coming back to his face, but with a smile nonetheless.

You turn around and pass the other two men without saying a word, hearing them sigh behind you as you walk away towards your room.

Maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but you don’t feel like forgiving anybody else just yet.

So that’s how you find yourself spending more and more time with Bucky.

It feels like you spent all your free time with each other, only being apart at night and when Bucky joins the team for dinner.

He tried to get out of it multiple times to join you when you would eat in the kitchen of your floor, but Steve insists that it would be better for him to be around the team, even if just for an hour a day, and you fully agree.

That, however, doesn’t stop him from joining you afterwards just so you won't have to eat alone, for which you're grateful.

Initially Bucky's pretty content just following you around like a lost puppy, a fact that Sam and Steve never fail to mention as it amuses them to no end.

But Bucky doesn't care, and neither do you as you enjoy each other’s presence, even in silence.

Bucky likes watching you go about your day, still amazed by everything you do and you like having him near you. It makes you feel safe.

Still, the more time you spent together, the more comfortable he feels around you.

The real turning point comes when one night you open your door to find a disheveled looking Bucky, and you know immediately that him knocking at your door at 3 am meant nothing good.

Which is confirmed when he sniffles and you realize he has tears streaming down his face.

Without saying anything you hold out your hand, which he instantly takes as he lets you guide him inside, shutting the door behind him.

You walk to the bed and sit down, hand still in his and, when he just stands there you tug on it, silently letting him know that it's okay for him to join you.

You expect him to sit next to you as he’s done countless times now while leaving a respectful space between you, always the gentleman.

What you didn’t expect is him crawling into your bed, taking you to lay down with him, and hugging you as tightly as he can without hurting you, his legs also wrapping around yours.

To say you're shocked right now is an understatement. You always made a point to keep physical touch to a minimum when it comes to Bucky, not wanting to do anything to make him uncomfortable.

But here he is, clinging to you like a scared little kid, crying his eyes out with his head buried in the crook your neck.

You wrap your arms around his shaking body, hugging him as tight as he is, rubbing his back to try and soothe him, whispering what you hope are words of encouragement in his ear.

You stay like that for a while until he finally calms down and stops crying.

You don’t rush him to let go or to talk about it, letting him decide if and when he's ready to talk at all.

After a few minutes of total silence you think the poor guy cried himself to sleep, but he proves you wrong by moving his head away from your neck and placing it on your chest.

You feel him play with your necklace as he starts talking with a quiet voice that reminds you of the first day you met him. "I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t want to be alone and had nowhere else to go." and your heart breaks for him.

"Don’t apologize, Buck. You can always come to me, it doesn’t matter what time it is."

He looks up, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him, and seems like he's about to say something else but thinks better of it, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

He settles for giving you a gentle squeeze and moving his head back to lay on you, but you don't need words to know he's grateful for your understanding.

He's seemingly unashamed of the way he's still clinging to you and you’d be lying if you said you mind being so close to him either.

You start running your hand through his hair, which he seems to appreciate, and, after a few more minutes of silence, he starts speaking again.

He tells you about the nightmares he’s been having ever since he escaped Hydra, and that tonight, after a particularly gruesome one, he just couldn’t stand being alone.

He doesn't go into too much detail about the dream but tells you enough for you to want to take a few firearms and track down every single person connected to Hydra so you can put as many bullets in them as you can carry, then light them on fire for good measure.

But, Bucky being your first priority, you stay where you are and try your best to comfort him, eventually changing the subject to keep his mind off the nightmare.

You talk until the sun comes up, birds chirping, but neither of you make a move to get up at any point, eventually falling asleep for a couple of hours in each other’s arms.

Part 6

Taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes @ordelixx

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x platonic!reader

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 1 year

Text

WORK CRUSH

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: you work at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and George realizes he fancies you Warnings: mention of kissing? Note: bit long

you had been working at the twin's shop for a few month now, ever since you got fired from your last job at a café.

you had gone into the shop and started talking to the Fred, seen as though you knew each other from school, but you were in the year below them.

you were an accidental victim to one of their pranks that was meant for Flitwick. they saw very apologetic and made sure you were alright and made it their mission to make it up to you, which they did.

so when you were talking, the subjects of jobs were unavoidable

"this shop is amazing, you should be very proud of yourself" you laughed

"thank you, I am, It's the best job. what did you get up to?" he asked politely

"I got a small job at a café in Hogsmeade" you smiled awkwardly

"how's that going?"

you shook your head, pursing your lips "to be honest, not good, I got fired a week ago" you looked down sheepishly

"really?" he gasped lightly, you looked up at him and saw his big smile, his eyebrows raised.

"yeah." you nodded your head, your eyes closed

"you know, George and I were thinking lately that there isn't enough of us working here, it's sort of.. understaffed, i mean it's only the two of us, and most days we don't get lunch breaks" he explained, his smile widening

"if you want, I would -and I'm sure George too- would love to have you work here with us" he informed

"really? you would hire me?" you raised your eyebrows

"yeah" he nodded enthusiastically "you know what, you meet me and George tomorrow at three broomsticks and we'll talk more about it"

"yeah, of course, thank you!" you replied quickly.

the next day you went to meet with them and it went great, George seemed happy to hire you as much as Fred did and at the end they said you'd start Monday, and you did

George watched you as your worked, he was helping a kid figure out what he wanted as you stood at the cash register, taking money and giving change and smiling at the little kids faces when they laughed at their products

he found himself staring at you a lot, you were a distraction from his job, but he wouldn't rather anyone else work there.

"mister? will these turn me into a death eater?" the little kid by his side asked him, making him look away from you and down to the boy.

he looked down at what he was holding, seeing the edible dark marks

"no buddy, it won't make you into a death eater" he answered amused by his soft voice

the boy smiled and seemed to relax "well I want this then"

"ok well go down to the counter and the pretty lady at the front will check that out for you, ok?" George told the boy.

the boy nodded and went off, running to the counter to join the long line.

"pretty lady at the front, ay?" he heard Fred say from behind him

George turned to his brother and rolled his eyes at his smirk.

"what? can't I call my friend pretty?" he questioned

"oh but is she really just a friend to you George?" Fred smirked

"yes" George responded quickly

Fred glared at him knowingly the grin on his face growing

"shove off Fred" George grumbled, walking off to go help other customers.

Fred snickered to himself before going to help a kid get something off a shelf.

George often found himself watching you as you worked, he told himself it was to make sure you weren't making mistakes or if you needed help.

Fred, Of course knew it was more than that, he knew his twin brother fancied you.

but Fred also knows that George is helpless when it came to realising and acting upon his feelings, you weren't the only girl he's seemed to like.

but you were definitely the girl he's liked the most, how does Fred know this?

first of all, it's a twin thing

but it's the way he looks at you, it's the way he asks you for help even when you've finished for the day, the way he laughs when he's with you when nothing is funny.

it's the way George's face turns red when he's around you and the way he fiddles with things when you're there.

and Fred saw the way you looked at George too, you would steal glances at him when he's not looking and smile up at him when he's distracted.

Fred saw the way you fixed yourself when you saw George coming, you would straighten your posture and pat down your clothes.

so Fred wanted to help, he wanted George to notice and acknowledge his feelings for you.

so when closing up the shop that night, George was at the counter, counting the money and splitting it while you talked to him, your elbow on the desk, using it to hold up your chin as you leaned

Fred was out the back- the workshop, they called it. figuring out what they needed to brew up.

"alright, here you go" he heard George sigh

"thanks, see you in the morning," you said "bye Fred!" you called out

Fred popped out to say bye to you and you left, George locked the door and Fred looked over at the love potions, an idea popping into his head.

"hey can you finish up back, I gotta head up and order some things" Fred asked George, making him turn to him and nod

Fred headed for the stairs and waited until George went into the workshop, the door staying open.

Fred smirked and snuck over to the love potions, opening a few bottles before running upstairs to order ingredients

George was finished up in the back when he felt a particular scent hit his nose, making it tingle

it was the smell he loved and craved, it smelt exactly like you.

he turned around as the scent of your perfume filled the room.

he knew you left, but you might've snuck in because you forgot something

he called out your name, heading to the door to head back in the shop, the smell getting stronger

"Y/n?" he called out again, looking around the shop

he didn't see you anywhere, and the door was still locked. leaving him puzzled. he looked around again and brushed it off, thinking he imagined it.

he turned off the lights and head for the stairs, passing the glowing pink flower display that held the love potions, the smell of your perfume almost burning his nose.

he looked down at the bottles and noticed some of them were open.

George picked them up and smelt it, smelling you. he closed it and read the back

smell what attracts you! he read in the pretty pink font.

it clicked it his head, it hit him hard. he fancied you? he began to feel dizzy as the smell intoxicated him.

he closed the rest of the bottles that were open and the small seemed to fade away, letting George breath

he stood there for a while, deep in thought,

deep in thought about you

he blinked and decided to get sleep. he laid down and as soon as his head hit his pillow he was drowned in a deep sleep, dreaming about you, with him

the next morning he got ready for work, yearning for your arrival

and Fred could sense it, he smiled as he saw George's grin stay on his face all morning.

"what are you smiling at?" he questioned his twin, making George's grin falter, not realising his upturned lips.

"nothing" he shook his head

"really?" he smirked, giving George a knowing look

"just in a good mood" George shrugged

"Y/n just arrived" Fred lied, seeing the way George immediately turned to the front door, a look of anticipation in his eyes

"shove off Fred" George grumbled before going to the back to brew up some products

everything was ready for opening so he decided to go up to the flat to make himself tea.

George heard the door open and he left the potion, casting a spell to make it pour in the vials itself

he walked out to the front to see you with your bag

"good morning George" you smiled.

a lump formed in his throat and he failed to speak

his faced turned red and went hot as he felt his hands get clammy

you noticed his flushed state and went closer to him

"George? are you ok?" you asked

he swallowed the lump and nodded his head

"yeah sorry, Good morning" he replied

you smiled and went to the back to hang up your bag. you came out and went to him

"what do you want me to do?" you questioned, looking around the shop

"you can help help me stock up the love potions" Fred spoke as he walked down the stairs.

you smiled and looked up at George who grinned crookedly

you walked to the back, Fred right behind you. he shut the door behind you and you looked for the boxes of love potions

"so, do you like working here?" he interrogated curiously

you turned to him and beamed

"yeah, It's great" you answered happily

"what do you think of George?" he smirked

"He's fine?" you frowned, puzzled by his words

Fred grabbed a bottle and accidentally dropped it, making the fumes fill the room.

while Fred didn't smell anything, you on the other hand got overwhelmed by the scent of George's cologne

"bloody hell" he sighed "you go stock up, I'll clean this up"

your gaze stayed on the liquid, the pink heart bubbles flowing up to reach your nose. the scent making you feel dizzy.

"Y/n? you alright?" Fred asked, knowing exactly what's going on.

you averted your eyes from the spill to Fred.

"yeah, sorry, just frightened me" you responded quickly. the smell still chasing your nose. you picked up the box and headed to the front to stock them on the display.

George stared as you talked to a few male customers, ones that seem to be around your age.

it annoyed George and distracted him from his job. And Fred, who was walking past leaned into George

"You should tell her" he whispered before walking away, not letting George get the Chance to protest against the idea

George sighed as he looked back at you smiling at the boys.one of them getting a little too close for George's liking.

He clenched his jaw before turning away to get back to work

he heard your laugh from across the shop and fought the urge to interfere.

you were allowed to talk to other guys, you didn't belong to George, you weren't even his girlfriend.

you were his employee.

so he had no right to feel the jealousy bubbling in his stomach or the pain in his heart when he heard your little squeal.

he went to the other side of the shop, to the back to occupy himself until the boys would leave

George has been trying his best to flirt with you the rest of the week, he would go up to you and make you laugh with stories from school.

he would go out of his way to make sure he was by your side and help you when you seemed to struggle

he knew he wasn't the best at talking to women he likes but the way you smiled and laughed at him made him believe he had a chance.

it was a quiet day in the shop, the weather was cold and wet, the rain from the night before dripping from the pipes.

so George didn't have to worry about having to help anyone, by the time you started working there, most people already knew where everything was, except when things moved or they had never been there before.

so George stayed with you the whole day, making you laugh between scanning the products.

"then me and Fred decided that we just wanted to make the dream real, people thought it was a bit childish but we knew that this was what we wanted to do" George jabbered

"well I'm very proud of you two, not many people have the guts to chase their dreams, I admire your ambitions"

that made George happy, you were proud of him, you admired him.

in that moment George thought you might've liked him the same why he did you.

"thank you" he replied softly, his smile widening as he looked down at you

it was nearing closing time and it began pouring with rain, the thunder and lightning soon after.

the shop got even quieter as parents ushered their kids to hurry up and buy their products so they can get home.

you were at the register scanning the last few products, while George watched from behind you

when Fred came out from the workshop

"George I need help" he yelled out to him

George groaned quietly before going to his brother.

Fred pulled George in, shutting the door behind them

"are you gonna tell her?" he asked his younger twin

"tell who what?" George scratched the back of his neck

"don't play that game" Fred crossed his arms

"I don't know what your talking about" George shrugged

"really? so I can go out there and ask her out on a date?" Fred huffed with a coy smile

George swallowed deeply, his hand subconsciously balling up to make a fist

"go ahead then" George blinked, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried not to curse his brother out

"fine" Fred rolled his eyes, walking to the door slowly, waiting for George to stop him, but he didn't

Fred walked through the door and shut it behind him, waiting a second before opening it again, seeing George by the cauldron, probably wanting to start brewing something

Fred shut the door and marched up to him, looking at him like he has two heads

"what was that?" Fred spat

"what did she say?" George questioned quietly

"I didn't ask her you idiot," Fred answered "why didn't you try to stop me?"

"why would her? if you like her then ask her" George spoke softly

"I don't like her" Fred sighed in disappointment

George turned to his twin with a deadpan expression "then what was the point of this, Fred?"

"for you to stop me? I know you fancy her so why didn't you try to stop me?" Fred slapped his arm

"what do you want from me?" George took a deep breath, looking at the ground

"to tell her, I know she fancies you too so what's stopping you?" Fred lied.

"how would you know that?"

Fred didn't know, he assumed

"she told me. we were talking yesterday and she told me" the older twin blinked

George believed him, and he was excited, Fred could see the redness rising on his brothers cheeks and smiled, leaving to room, going to the flat leaving it to you and George to close the shop

George stood there, thinking when he heard the rain and thunder from outside starting again, he came out and looked out the window. no one was in the shop other than you and him.

you were cleaning up the counter, getting ready to leave

the first lightning strike of the night had flashed and didn't stop

he went up to you and cleared his throat

he stood behind you, waiting for you to turn around.

you did, and you were met with his frame towering over your own, making you jump, not knowing he was right there.

"merlin, George, don't do that" you squealed

you made your way past him to the back to get your bag, but he stopped you

"you're really pretty" he informed you. you looked up at him with a smile, feeing the heat rise to your cheeks as he complimented you

"thank you, George" you beamed

you continued to go to the back, you took your bag off the hook on the wall and turned around to him cornering you.

he leaned his hand against the wall and stopped you from moving

his gaze moved down to your lips and stayed there, you stared at him while he slightly licked his lips.

he took your time to examine his face, it was more defined than Fred's. he also had more freckles and his eyes were softer, holding more emotion.

you counted the dots on his face that decorated his face, going through his cheeks and across his nose.

he was gorgeous, and the close proximity he forced you into made you feel weak

he continued staring at you. his gaze was gentle and held a sense of longing.

"hello" you broke the silence awkwardly, it made him chuckle

it was a deep and cocky chuckle. it was sexy

he reached up and stroked your hair, looking at you with pure love and care.

"you're so pretty" he whispered

that was the second time he said that in the span of almost 4 minutes.

"George" you muttered when he inclined closer to you

"yes?" he murmured, you gulped down a lump in your throat and looked down at his lips for a second before looking away from him all together

he took a step closer to you, and you could feel body heat radiating against yours

when he realised you had nothing to say he spoke up himself

"you should stay the night, wouldn't want you walking home in this weather" he mumbled

his head bent down to rest of yours, the warmth of his breath blowing onto your lips

"we have a guest room" he breathed, he seemed to be panting

he slowly leaned in and pressed his lips on yours, you could barely call it a kiss.

his he sunk his teeth gently into your bottom lip before letting go.

he groaned almost inaudible

you felt heat rise between your legs as he grabbed your hips

"ok" you replied, almost silently, afraid that if you speak to loud he'll disappear and this would all be a dream

he smiled before smashing his lips on yours, as if he was hungry for you.

he held your hand and held it against the wall.

he hummed against your lips before letting go, taking your hand off the wall and dragging you upstairs.

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

#george wealsey x reader #george weasley x fem #george weasley #fluff #imagines #oneshot #fred and george #x fem!reader #please request #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

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empressdede · 2 months

Text

TikToks - Solo Sikoa

Based on this tiktok …. Short oneshot so I hope you guys like it.

Word count: 761

Pairing: Sefa x Y/N

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Sefa laid on his best friend’s bed bored waiting for Y/N to finish getting ready, he called her 30 minutes ago to get ready cause he was taking her somewhere but apparently 30 minutes isn’t enough time.

“Are you done now?” He asked again for the umpteenth time which caused Y/N to roll her eyes.

“Asking me the same question over and over ain’t gon make me be ready any faster you know?” You replied, finishing up with moisturizing your lips with your peach scented chapstick. “But yes, I’m ready now.”

Sefa closed his phone and gave his undivided attention to his best friend. She wore a simple outfit but she still looked so pretty to him. “You look good.” He commented.

Y/N smiled, the butterflies in your stomach refusing to settle. Sefa’s compliments always did that to you.

“Thank you. Now, are you going to tell me where we going or am I being kidnapped again?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

With a blindfold over your face, you let Sefa walk you to the destination he wanted to bring you so badly.

The kidnap comment was a joke so imagine your surprise when he actually pulled out a black scarf from his pocket.

“Still think its a little kinky you keep a scarf laying around in your back pocket.” You joked and he rolled his eyes.

“How is having a scarf kinky?” He asked with the most neutral tone.

“How is it not? C’mon Sefa, don’t tell me you’re that inexperienced in the bedroom.”

He stopped walking which cause you to stop in your steps, he leaned down to whisper, “If only you knew.”

Goosebumps rose on your arms and a small shiver ran through your spine because damn did you wanna know.

“You ready to see what I got for you?”

“If you brought me to the middle of nowhere I swear to God Sefa-“

“Can you shut up and take off the blindfold?” He stressed and it caused you to finally take off the scarf.

Your eyesight obviously being blurry, you turn to Sefa while blinking to wait for everything to become clear to you again. Once you could get a full look of the nervousness on his face, its when you turned and the sight before you took your breath away.

“Sefa.” You whispered as you took in the picnic set up in front of you, the question that was on the board read loud and clear: Can I be your boyfriend?

He took you, on a date.

You turned back to face him, tears pooling at the edge of your eyes. “You… You liked me this whole time?”

He shrugged in response, “I’ve liked you since we accidentally kissed at my moms birthday party. We brushed it off as something platonic but I couldn’t stop thinking about you like that.” He confessed, taking your hand into his.

“Watching Cairo shoot his shot at you only made me realize I don’t want to wait to make my move. I want you all to myself.”

You took in his words, turning back to face the site again with loving eyes before facing him again. “Of course you can be my boyfriend Sefa.” You answered and leaned forward to press your lips against his.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the date, you guys decided to just stay and enjoy the lovely day that it was until an idea pops up in your head.

“Wait. Can I show you a dance that I made up?”

Sefa raised his eyebrow at you. “What?”

But you didn’t give him much of a chance. You pulled him up from the floor and told him to stand while you readied the camera. “I just want to get your reaction, thats all.”

You entered this was all kinds of seriousness so that’s why Sefa stood and waited for you to show him this so called dance that you’ve made up.

What you want from me

You’ll get your wants and needs

Focus on this pussy concentration

It look even better when I’m naked

Go a little harder I can take it

When you started your dance Sefa only focused on you, watching you thrust you back out and move your arms, so when you turned around to see his half amused but half serious face you couldn’t help but giggle. You tried to be committed to finish the dance but the both of you ended up laughing. It was the perfect way to publicly claim each other whenever you decided you wanted to post this.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Lmaoo how we feeling? And who y’all want me to release next, Jimmy’s or Roman’s?

Tagging the lovelies: @blacst4r @whatdoeseverybodywant @wrestlingprincess80

#empressdede #empresswriting #black reader #wwe #solo sikoa x black reader #sefa fatu x black reader #solo sikoa x oc #sefa fatu x oc #tiktoksolosikoa

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music-royal01 · 1 year

Text

The aftershocks

Sully family x deaf!Omaticaya!reader part 3

Part 1: silent world loud mind

Part 2: hearing the unheard

You start acting a little weird after that night you went swimming and no one fails to pick up on it

You were frantically trying to get out of the water. The idea that you had heard something had startled you, mostly because Norm had told you that there was no chance you could ever hear again. You hoist yourself onto the flooring outside the marui coughing from some of the water that had entered your lungs. Neteyam had heard your distress and immediately runs out to where you are

“Y/N! What happened” Neteyam says looking at your frantic movements and becoming worried

“nothing Neteyam I’m fine” your tone was harsher than necessary as you ran your hands through your hair trying to get the water out

“You sure?” Neteyam was kind of shocked at the tone of you voice but he didn’t show it

“Yes I’m sure” you push past him and walk into the marui

~The next day~

You and Kiri where hanging out at the beach. she was picking seashell while you were looking at the pool things in the sand as you floated in the water desperately trying to see if the same noise from last night would return

“What is she doing?”

“She’s just looking in the sand”

You had noticed some ripples in the water and looked up

“Did you say something?” You asked confused as to why Ao’nung and his friends had surrounded you

“Are you a freak” Ao’nung said

“He ask if you are a freak”

You sigh getting up from the water “no”

“Are you sure I mean you can’t even hear anything” Ao’nung says in a mocking tone which you couldn’t hear but were able to understand perfectly well because of his facial expressions

From farther away Lo’ak hears all of this and begins to walk towards you

“Hey! Back off fish lips” he says looking in Ao’nungs direction

“Oh look a four fingered freak” Ao’nung smiles sadistically as all of his friend surround Lo’ak, one of them pulling his “baby tail”

“Leave us alone!” You yelled desperately trying to the group of boys away from Lo’ak as Neteyam walked up angrily as his feet stomped in the sand

“You heard what she said…” Neteyams voice is cold as he pushed Ao’nung “…leave them alone”

One of Ao’nungs friends start to say something until Ao’nung pushes him as a way of hushing him as Neteyam continues to tell them to back off. Even though he was still a little upset about yesterday he would still defend you

Ao’nung puts in hands in the air showing that he gives up

“Good..” Neteyam turns to the rest of Ao’nungs minions “and from now on I’m gonna need you to respect Y/N”. One of the minions begins to hiss until Ao’nung cuts him off

You, Lo’ak, and Neteyam begin to walk away until Lo’ak turns around and Neteyam gives him an almost scolding look as Lo’ak starts to showing his hand to Ao’nung and saying things, then suddenly Lo’ak punches Ao’nung in the face… multiple times hard enough to make him fall down. Ao’nung tackled Lo’ak and the two start fighting on the beach shore when Ao’nungs and his friends start to hang up on Lo’ak

Neteyam sighs and starts going to help his brother as you stand there frozen, you knew if the adults found out your friends would be punished but if they didn’t stop now they would have to deal with injuries worse than a few scratches and bruises

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What did I tell you” Jake yells at Neteyam and Lo’ak

“To stay out of trouble sir” Lo’ak mutters looking down at the ground

“It was my fault sir” Neteyam says stepping infront of his little brother

“No it wasn’t, you have to stop taking the blame for this idiot” Jakes says frowning and pacing around

“Ao’nung was picking on Y/N. He called her a freak”

Lo’aks voice was strong and his statement stopped Jakes pacing as his face soften

“Go apologize to him” Jake sighed

“But-” Lo’ak started but his father cut him off “he’s the chiefs son. Understand. I don’t care how you do it just go”

Lo’ak walks away and Jake turns to Neteyam

“What did the others look like”

“Worse sir” Neteyam replied sort of surprised his dad would ask him that

“Good…good” Jake says as he dismisses Neteyam

You were sitting outside the marui your feet dangling in the water. Jake had noticed that your behavior had been off since last night

“What’s the matter Y/N” Jake said after he tapped you on the shoulder so you could look at him and read his lips

“I heard something last night Mr Sully, it was like Eywa herself was calling out to me” you felt crazy saying that, you weren’t supposed to be able to hear anything

“Oh Y/N… I don’t know what to say, Eywa works in mysterious ways” Jake said as he sat down next to you, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into a hug. You gave him a sad smile not knowing what else to do or say

———————————————————————

Tag list: @inutheangel @thesecretsoftheuniverse @imnyira @mae-is-crazy @junnniiieee07 @yeosxxx @khaleesihavilliard @eywaisalwayswithyou @perseny @yourmamacom @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ladylovegood-69 @ashrocker123 @jikxeu-blog @dumb-fawkin-bitch @in-luvais @elegantkidfansoul @aonungs-tsahik @fireflystoughts @dani-d0rk @scarletrosesposts @nyotamalfoy @inluvwithneteyam @reguluscrystals @totesnothere04 @he110hon @thewh0renextdoor @tejas-kris @navs-bhat @ducks118 @ymmpily @eirianna @lemonmoonmochi @myh3artttt @thehoneymushroomhealer

———————————————————————

Authors note: IM ALIVE!!! :) sorry for being inactive for so long and I know that it’s been months since I updated my blog and stories but I’ve had majors writers block that I’ve only just overcome so hopefully I’ll get back into writing more her :) :)

Ps thank you do all the people that still been reading my blog and liking, I appreciate all your support!

#avatar way of water #avatar #sully family x reader #jake sully #neteyam x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #avatar loak

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peachsayshi · 1 year

Note

Hey, Peaches! For the "102 types of kisses"... May I request for 38 or 46 for Choso? 🥺👉👈 He's been rotting my thoughts and you always write him so deliciously.

➳ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni / this blog is 20+ for follows

38. Character A pressing Character B up against the wall and kissing them senseless (102 types of kisses)

⥽ notes: mavis, darling! thank you so much for requesting choso! <3 I hope you like this xo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags: au; secret fwb relationship; jealous choso; hot and heavy kissing; dirty talk; implied that the reader isn't wearing a bra; nipple play

you taste like strawberries dipped in honey. the texture of your tacky lipgloss sticks to choso's lips, and he sighs dreamily as you part your eager mouth to slide your tongue along his. you paint your fingers in black ink when you tangle them between the strands of his hair, and moan shamelessly when he sneaks his hand underneath your top to tweak at your hard, sensitive nipple.

he isn't seeing red anymore. his anger easily withering away by your touch, and the unfiltered jealousy evaporates as he slides his other hand into the back pocket of your jeans to tug you even closer to his frame.

"mmph-cho..." you moan with a subtle grind of your hips, lashes fluttering when you rub over his bulge and you drop your hands down to his firm chest to squeeze the fabric of his black hoodie.

he slips his thigh between your legs, slotting himself perfectly into you like a puzzle and giving you something grind against. he pulls away to find the delicate curve of your neck, and sucks on the tender flesh with a hunger that sends a ripple down your spine.

is this what you wanted? he thinks. is this all part of some fun little game to play with my mind?

he had to stand their in silence watching the guys flock around you like incessant birds putting on a show for their mate. he clenched his jaw at geto, whose gaze never left your chest, listening to him spew sentence after sentence with all his smooth talking. he rolled his eyes at gojo, who upped his eccentric humor in order to garner a few pretty laughs out of you, and he nearly snapped at mahito for his inability to comprehend personal space when he would nonchalantly place an arm around your shoulder or waist.

yes, you were all friends, but choso had to deal with the brunt of their desire over you, while still remaining tight lipped about the truth behind your "friendship".

the guys continuously threw the term "friend-zoned" in his face on the belief that choso managed to keep his hands to himself after all these years.

"you've known each other since high school," he remembers geto mocking, "if you haven't fucked by now, then you probably never will"

"that's right," mahito egged on, "she's fair game"

little did they know that you have always been his; your first kiss belonged to him, your first experience with pleasure was done by his hand, he was the first man you've ever tasted on your tongue, his mouth the first to know the divine flavor of the space between your legs, and he was the first person to feel the way your body trembled when he fucked you tenderly against his bed sheets.

which is why he can't help but feel tested when you showed up at tonight's gathering wearing an outfit that had you looking like a delectable little treat and making the rest of the guys salivate over you.

choso adjusts his position, spinning on his heel quickly so your back was now pressed up against the cool, concrete wall of your hallway. he pinches the tip of your breast and squeezes your ass through your jeans. the stimulation only makes you cry out with pleasure as your lover smiles against your neck with approval.

idiots, he thinks, with your response fanning his ego in a way that nothing else in this world ever could.

"unh, choso you're makin' me wet..." you pant, but he simply captures your lips once more for a heated kiss and softly ruts his pelvis into you.

"m'hard too," he mumbles into the kiss, "you had me turned on since you walk in with these poking through your shirt..."

he lightly brushes his knuckles over the taut buds, and you exhale softly as you lift your arms while he tugs at fabric and pushes it above your chest.

he drops the material onto the ground, both hands now groping the pillow soft mounds as you lure him back in for another kiss.

if only the others could see him now, he scoffs. if only they knew what he was really up to when he excused himself to drive you back home.

he's so used to being underestimated by those around him, knowing full well that the guys would never believe that quiet, introverted choso could bag someone as beautiful and mesmerizing as yourself.

you pull away, cupping his jaw in the palm of your hands and swiping a glittering string of spit from his bottom lip.

"wanna sleepover?" you politely ask, with the same question that he's heard many times before, and the one that always makes the blood rush between his legs.

"yeah," he exhales, pressing a gentle kiss against the pad of your thumb. his hands drop to the waistband of your jeans. he unfastens the button, slowly releases each notch of the zip before slipping his hand to feel the source of your heat.

"I wasn't planning on going home anytime soon..." he murmurs as he closes the gap by pressing his mouth to yours.

years of this, of this off-and-on game, with lovers in between and periods where the benefits were off the table...and yet, you both always circle back to this very point of winding up tangled in each other's limbs and succumbing to the heaviness of sleep after another night of pleasure.

⥽ requests?

#choso x reader #choso x you #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso smut #choso fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #babygirl choso 🥰#requests.✍️

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shebreathedherlast · 10 months

Text

Haunted

gf!anakin x reader

Summary: You're best friends with Anakin but you have a boyfriend. Anakin takes it into his own hands to deal with this problem.

Word Count: 3.8k

tw: murder

Anakin sat atop the dark metal picnic bench as he listened to you ramble on about your psychology major. You have always loved psychology and studying the human brain. He allowed you to ramble, twirling a fallen strand of your ponytail between his index finger.

“Anakin, are you even listening to me?” You ask.

He only hums in response, as he continues to play with your hair. You had been friends with Anakin since your junior year of high school and ever since then, you two have been nearly inseparable. You had always seen him around, as he fell into the popular crowd but it wasn’t until he saved you from the wrath of your ex that you two became quick friends.

You continue to tell him about the aspects you find fascinating about psychology and how it has helped you learn to read people.

“So I take it you enjoy your classes?” He says.

You nod, “Of course I do, but the work can be overwhelming at times you know?”

“Mmm,” He agrees before changing the subject. “You still need a ride to Padmé’s tonight?”

You smile sheepishly, “Yeah, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all, but I just don’t think your boyfriend would approve,” He practically spits the word out as he responds.

You turn around to swat his arm. Anakin has never liked your boyfriend, Jess. Now that you think of it, he has never liked any of your previous boyfriends either. You dismissed the thought of his protective nature ever since he saw your high school ex Nathan hit you. When that happened Anakin had practically beat him to death, successfully scaring your ex from ever coming near you again.

“Don’t worry Ani, Jess won’t mind,”

“What won’t I mind?” Jess asks, approaching you.

“Shesh man, you appeared outta nowhere, practically jumped out of the bushes or something,” Anakin scolds, allowing his annoyance to filter through.

Jess chuckles, “Yeah sorry about that bro, just saw my girl here,” he scrunches his face with a smile, “--and I just had to come see her,”

Jess leans in to plant a kiss on your lips, coming to sit beside you on the bench. He reaches for your thigh, stroking it up and down with his thumb as his hand trails further north.

“Jess,” You laugh, “Not here,” You say, pushing his hand with a firm expression.

Anakin scoffs, “Keep it in your pants, Kennedy,”

His jaw is fixed. Anakin’s grip on your hair tightens as his fists subconsciously clench.

“Oww Ani, you’re pulling on my hair.” You groan.

Anakin cringed, unravelling his fingers from your wavy locks, “Sorry angel,”

Jess reaches for your head, smoothing your hair down, “Since when were you his angel?” He asks, a certain possessiveness in his voice.

Anakin turned his eyes to your boyfriend, “Since high school, prick.”

You notice how quickly their conversation is heating up and attempt to de-escalate the situation.

“Anakin.” You shoot him a stern glare. “Behave,”

He just lets out a dark chuckle, rolling his eyes, “Yes ma'am,” He mocks.

Jess tries to start up a new conversation for your benefit most likely.

“Hey uh, have you heard about the whole psycho killer on the loose?”

You squeal, “Yes! Of course, I have. Isn’t it crazy? A real-life ghostface killer in our city?”

Jess quirks a brow at your excitement. He opens his mouth to talk before Anakin cuts him off.

“She’s big into slasher movies. Thinks that all the killers are complex psychologically so she finds them fascinating,”

“But this guy is real,” Jess states.

You nod, “Yes he is, I just wanna know what makes him do what he does, and in such an extreme way. Isn’t it interesting?” You know that to almost anyone you’d sound freaky, finding serial killers fascinating, but what can you say? You just want to study how utterly complex they are.

Anakin snorts, “Well there’s that, and you also think ghostface is hot.”

You look down in embarrassment, turning a shade of pink as Anakin exposes your secret attraction to the slasher. Jess seems shocked at this revelation, “You find this murder attractive?” He asks, a puzzling expression painted on his face.

“No, no,” You say, waving your hands for emphasis, “Not the real ghostface, just–uh the ones in the Scream movies.”

Anakin and you had binge-watched the Scream movies last year in your final year of high school, and you would rant to him how hot you thought ghostface was. There was just something about the long robes, mask, and blood-stained knife that had you clenching your thighs.

“Well then, I know what to wear for the Halloween party at Padmé’s tonight,” Jess said

You giggled as you threaded your fingers through your boyfriend's messy hair. “Uhg–please do Jess, you’d look so hot,”

“Well in that case,” He flashed you a knowing smile, “Anything for my girl,”

Anakin shifted above you, running his hand through his dark blonde hair, something he always did when he was irritated.

“Would you guys get a room already? This is disgusting.”

“Aw Anakin, is someone jealous they don’t have a girl?” Jess mocked, slipping his arms around your waist, passive-aggressively emphasizing that you were his girlfriend.

Anakin hated the way Jess touched you, in fact, he hated everything about Jess, but mostly the fact that he was your boyfriend. After all, you were his first, and he was determined to show this to Jess, no matter the consequences.

“Whatever man,” Anakin played off as he reached for your backpack, “We have to leave anyway to pick up y/n’s costume.”

Jess glared at Anakin, as he studied his face. “Yeah sure bro,” He replied to your best friend before turning to you, “I’ll see you at the party after my shift, wear something nice for me babe, okay?”

You giggled, “Always do Jessy.”

Anakin groaned, walking to his car, “Angel you coming?”

You turned from Jess after saying your goodbyes, “Right behind ya!”

________________

You sat in the passenger seat of Anakin’s car, as he drove you to Padmé’s house. The land outside seemed to blend together at the speed that Anakin was driving. He had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the head of your seat, brushing against your bare shoulders. You were dressed as Black Widow from the MCU and Anakin had black ripped jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. You’d brought your make-up with you so you applied what was necessary to complete your look. Anakin made you promise to use your make-up to create a skull face. He was dressed as Tate Langdon from AHS.

When he parked on the side of the road outside of Padmé’s house you got to work transforming his face. You used your favourite fluffy brush to apply the white powder on Anakin’s face as he laughed, “That tickles. Stop it,” He said between giggles. When you finally finished the two of you exited his car and made your way into the house.

Once you and Anakin had settled at the party, he took off to get a drink. You went to find your friends. Padmé spotted you first as she beelined towards you. She wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug.

“Girl, you look gorgeous!”

“Thanks,” You replied, as she led you to your other friends, Satine, and Sabé.

They were dressed in various costumes, Sabé’s with more effort than Satine's, but they both looked wonderful to you.

“Wow, you all look amazing!” You said, smiling kindly.

A chorus of “thank you’s” was spilled before you were raptured into their gossip.

________________

Anakin was walking back to find you, drink in hand when something, or rather someone bumped into him.

“Watch where you're going man,” Anakin growled as he managed to study the liquid in his red solo cup.

The person who bumped into him looked up to meet his angry gaze. “My bad bro,”

“Jess,” Anakin spat.

“The one and only,” The other boy replied, dressed in a black t-shirt and baggy black jeans. A cheap plastic ghostface mask adored his face.

Anakin practically rolled his eyes at his crappy get-up.

“When y/n said she thought ghostface was hot, she definitely didn’t mean this cheap trash version.”

“Chill dude, why have you been so on edge lately? Get a drink, get laid, cool off.” Jess said stumbling, obviously already drunk. “That’s what I’m planning to do anyway.”

Anakin bawled his fists. He hated how Jess would talk about y/n behind her back. In all honesty, he didn’t know what his angel saw in him.

In response to Jess, he only nods before making his way through the mass of bodies filling the house.

________________

It was nearly two in the morning and by now the party had died down leaving only Padmé, Satine, Sabé, Jess, Anakin and you. Satine was watching a movie while Jess started kissing you. He moved his hands up and down your body as you sighed into his kisses. Turns out you did like his ghostface costume. Anakin watched you and Jess with disdain as he leaned against the wall, a beer in hand. Unknown yet to him he had crushed the cup with anger. When Jess led you upstairs he saw red and it took everything in him not to beat your boyfriend to a pulp. Anakin dragged his hand down the length of his face, turning to grab his belongings.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head out now Padmé, see ya girls,” Anakin waved goodbye to the other two girls on the sofa.

“Have a safe drive, Ani!” Padmé called after him.

Anakin visibly twitched. He hated being called “Ani” by everyone, well that is everyone except for you.

He managed to mumble a quieted, “thanks,”

Anakin walked out to his car, opening the glove box for the make-up wipes you kept stashed, cleaning the painted skull off his face. He started the car and circled around to the next block.

________________

“Sabé! We’re out of drinks, I’m gonna grab some more!” Padmé called out to her friend from the kitchen.

“Okay, thanks, Paddy!” Sabé yelled back before turning her focus back to the rom-com on TV.

Padmé made her way down the stairs, each step creaking with her force. She strode to the cold room, various slacks of expensive meat hanging from the hooks on the ceiling. Padmé maneuvered through the room reaching the end and grabbing a set of six beers. She turned back, beers in hand, weaving through the slacks of hanging meat when she was pulled to the side by a pair of anonymous arms. When the infamous mask came into view she yelped.

Padmé was shaking. She felt her mouth go dry and her senses numb. “Jess this is not funny, you really scared me.” She attempted to brush it off, laughing, to stay as calm and collected as she could.

The raspy voice of a modulator spoke. “You think this is funny Padmé?” It asked and suddenly a knife was plunged into her stomach. Instantly pain flooded her body, she screamed, as loud as she could, but her screams were quickly muffed by the figure's gloved hand.

Tears fell down her face, “What did I ever do to you,” She asked her muffled cries coming through.

A dark chuckle arose from ghostface, “Nothing.”

Padmé kicked and pulled away as best she could, blood pouring from the stab wound in her stomach. She knew no one was coming for her and she needed to do all she could to survive.

Padmé delivered a hard blow to the Slasher's stomach and their grip loosened. She bolted from the masked figure, clutching her wound as tears poured from her eyes.

She was only free of him for seconds before his strong hand gripped her shoulder, pulling her back, only for another excruciating thrust of the knife to rip through her flesh. The pain was too much. She could barely breathe. More crimson blood spurted from her back. And with each passing second her body weakened.

Ghostface pulled on her shoulder to face him, “All out of fight are we now, Padmé?” The deep voice echoed.

Padmé whimpered against his hold, before thrashing in his grip once again. Ghostface humoured her by releasing her watching as she desperately tried to crawl away. He allowed her to get all but ten feet away from him before pouncing on her like a lion to its prey, delivering a swift jab through her collarbone. Padmé let out a blood-curdling scream as ghostface picked her up and squared the previous wound of her shoulder blade with a lone meat hook, releasing her to dangle from the ceiling like a piece of butchered meat. The jagged hook impaled her smooth skin, allowing perfuse amounts of blood to gush from her near-lifeless body. Finally, Padmé’s frame saged, drained of all life. Dark red blood pooled on the floor as ghostface sought out his next victim.

________________

Sabé and Satine’s giggles were heard through the house as the two laughed at the movie before them. It had been nearly twenty minutes since their friend Padmé went to retrieve more beer, but now they were beginning to worry.

Satine was the first to speak up, “Sabé do you think Padmé’s alright? It’s been quite a while since she went downstairs.”

Sabé waved her off, “I’m sure she fine, probably just got carried away and started drinking.”

Satine leaned back into the couch, but something about the situation did not feel right.

As the girl neared the end of the movie they were sprawled out on the couch, Sabé nearest to the living room entrance.

No one heard him. The figure crept into the room without a sound. The only noise that radiated was that of the TV, and the deadly scream of Sabé in suit.

Satine whipped her head around to the horrific sight of ghostface repeatedly stabbing her best friend. “Sabé!” Satine cried out in fear.

Blood soaked her clothes, staining the couch. Sabé attempted to move but was too weak to do so. The last words she managed to mutter before her body failed her were “Run,”

Satine screamed in anguish as she ran from her dying friend. She had reached the front door, turning the knob when the killer’s knife was thrown, lodging itself in the back of her neck. Satine collapsed to the flood, choking on the spurting mess of her own blood.

Ghostface yanked his knife from her blood-covered throat, as he ascended the stairs to the upper floor.

________________

Jess hovered above you, angling his face to kiss you hard. His hands found your hips as he dug into the flesh of your thighs.

“I love that you’re mine,” He groaned against your mouth.

You shivered under his hold, before pulling away from him, “Jess, can we talk first,”

He continued littering your body with kisses, “mmhm,” was the only response he gave.

You pushed him off you slightly, sitting upright on the bed as he begrudgingly did the same. “I don’t like how you talk with Anakin. He’s the most important person in my life and his approval means the world to me. So could you try to just–I don’t know, just at least try to get along with him.”

Jess sighed, “Damnit y/n!” He screamed, startling you, “I don’t wanna hear about Anakin. I hate how close he is to you, so no, I will not change anything. He is trying to take you from me, you're just too blind to see it.”

You shut your mouth, teeth grinding against each other in frustration, “Jess, come on, please-”

He cut you off, “No! I don’t care how much you deny it, you have to at least be aware of the way he treats you. That guy literally hates everyone on this planet but you. He is always with you, he’s practically the one dating you. He drives you places, buys you things, calls you pet names and everything!”

“Stop it Jess! Anakin is not trying to take me from you, he’s just protective because of what happened with my last boyfriend. He’s looking out for me. And he is my best friend. So if you don’t get yourself together for me, because Anakin is important to me, then you can leave!”

Jess stayed quiet, as you awaited anxiously for his answer. Your nails subconsciously picked at the flesh of your knuckles. Eventually, Jess spoke up, “Fine y/n. I’ll do better with Anakin,” he said forcefully.

You smiled in relief because as much as you liked Jess, Anakin would always be your top priority. Jesse offered you a kind smile back before leaning in to place another kiss on your lips. As each kiss progressed, he seemed to become hungrier and hungrier.

Your boyfriend lifted his shirt from his body, pressing you close to his chest. His kisses became more urgent and desperate as his hands travelled lower and lower from your stomach.

One second your boyfriend was kissing you and the next he was thrown to the ground. The ominous ghostface stood before you, and no–this was not the fictional slasher in the movies, this killer was real, he was real and he had a eight-inch metal knife gripped tightly in his gloved hand. And contrary to most you didn’t scream. You were too shocked to be seen face to face with the real ghostface, the California killer stood towering before you and he had just flung your boyfriend to the floor.

Contrary to your reaction, Jess did indeed scream. He scrabbled to his feet, pressing himself impossibly close to the wall of Padmé’s bedroom.

Ghostface stalked forward to Jesse, knife raised and body fixed. Instead of delivering a fatal blow to the neck, he plunged the knife into Jess’ right hand. Your boyfriend cried out in pain. You stood still as blood spilled from his hand. Ghostface then repeated his action to your boyfriend's other hand. You cringed at the impact of the sharp weapon and Jess’ flesh. Your boyfriend let out another scream of pain.

“Stop, stop, please, stop,” Jess begged, ghostface’s knife, still impaled in his left hand.

The dark raspy voice of the modulator came through. “Pathetic little thing,” It scoffed, yanking the knife from your boyfriend’s broken and bloody hand.

“Stop.” You spoke, and you almost wish you hadn’t. Ghost face turned to you ever so slowly. He moved with an eerie terror, facing you as your boyfriend gasped in pain.

“Why should I sweetheart?” The modulated voice asked.

The pet name sent shivers through your body. “Answer me,” He spoke again.

“Because I don’t know your motive.” You stated.

“What if I don’t have one,”

His answer sent terror shooting through you. But then your thoughts drifted to your friends downstairs. “Padmé?” You questioned, a shake in your voice came through, but you did your best to push it down.

“Dead,” He responded.

“Sabé, Satine?” You asked hopefully.

“Dead.”

He stared you down, waiting for you to ask another question. “What about Jess and I?”

“One of you will die, and the other may live, it depends on how generous I’m feeling.”

You sat there for three erie seconds before nodding. Before a name pounded at your mind.

Ghost face turned from you a brief second to stab his knife into Jess’ heel, pulling the blade down, he severed it from his leg. Jess cried in pain. Ghostface did the same to the opposite heel before swiftly plunging the jagged knife into Jess’ face. You made a move to stand, but ghostface threatened you, “If I see you move another muscle from that bed, I’ll slit lover boy’s throat.”

You remained completely still. The only movement was the rise and fall of your chest.

Tears welled in your eyes as you made the choice to speak, “What about Anakin?”

Ghostface froze at the name before straightening himself, “I gutted him like a fish,”

A broken sob escapes your lips. “No,” you say softly, “No, no no,” Each word ripping the anger from your soul. You screamed, a scream so full of raw heartbreak it burned through your throat.

It was then that you forgot about everyone. You jumped up, neglecting ghostface’s threat and launched yourself at the man who took away your entire world.

Ghostface stumbled back, clearly not expecting you to attack him with such savage-like force. You didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got hurt, or if he killed you, or even if he killed Jess. Your thoughts ran red. All you close see was Anakin's mauled lifeless body.

You grabbed the stainless steel water bottle from Padmé’s nightstand and dashed it across ghostface’s mask. His head was knocked back from the impact.

“I will kill you for this!” You screamed in rage. Hitting him over and over. Ghostface held his hands up to shield his face from your vicious attacks. “He was all I had!” You yell, pulling his hands away. “Anakin was my everything!” You scream again, sheer anger coursing through your body. You were now straddling ghostface, your body pressing him into the floor. Ghostface finally wrestles the water bottle away from you, pushing you down, switching places with the previous position you had him in. He pins your wrists above your head as you thrash with maddening anger in his grasp. You’re body finally gives in as you sob in utter heartbreak. Thick tears pour from your face, “What are you waiting for,” You choke, “--just kill me, there’s no point in living without him,” You sob again, sending tremors through your body.

You’re shaking uncontrollably as ghostface angles his knife to press against your tear-stained cheek, “Now, why would I do that my angel,” he replies.

You’re entire body freezes as you process his words. You slowly lift your trembling hands to the bottom of ghostface’s mask, and when he doesn’t stop you, you tug at the mask, allowing it to fall from the person’s face. Anakin’s face. Your Anakin. He’s okay, he’s here with you right now and that’s all you can think about before you throw your arms around his neck and pull him down to you, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. He reciprocates your actions, kissing you with fervour.

“I love you,” Anakin whispers.

“You are my everything.” You reply, heart full of emotion, before pressing your lips back to his.

Though he has done unimaginable horrors you still kiss him, because you know that no matter what Anakin is your life, and you are his. Nothing mattered besides him and only him. As Jess bled to death Anakin took his girl, but now in his final moments, he wonders if you really ever his to begin with. Because if you were deranged enough to kiss the man who killed your closest friends, you must have been madly in love with him for the better part of your entire life.

#anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader x reader #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #scream6 x reader #scream6 #ghostface #ghostface x reader #gf!anakin #star wars #scream

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