#After she first got mechanized the eyes were just one of the many parts of ger body she didn't recognize

[kandicon]

Actually I can't stop thinking about Tim gaining a bit of weight during her time as Persephone and it's killing me now

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

chapter 1 : oh shit. a cowboy.

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: non-idol au | strangers to lovers | angst | fluff (no smut yet, but there will be eventually)

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually)

word count: 4.9k

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll), strangers to lovers, toxic relationship, yeonjun slander 😗 (sry baby), yj and reader get into a pretty big fight

notes: literally thank you so much to @ateez-main-yapper for helping me write this! like this would not exist without her letting me yap in her dms. or letting her help build the story up. or asking her to help edit. this was a two woman job 🙂‍↕️ so thank you baby 💗

ALSO there have been a couple changes and edits from the teaser, so not everything of the first 1k words is the same ☺️

and YES there will be a part 2 (& 3 💀) so PLEASE don't ask for it 😭 she will come when she's ready

Where the fuck was this place? You took another turn down another shaded alley, the sky strangely overcast for two in the afternoon.

The tapping of your fingers on the steering wheel was the only music since the stereo had broken months ago when Yeonjun slammed his fist against it in a fit of rage when you asked him to skip his gig this weekend to attend your sister’s wedding. Now it just blinked periodically when the car hit a bump, giving it miniscule signs of life. And for a man who focused his whole life around his music, he seemed uncharacteristically uninterested in getting it repaired. And maybe it would never get fixed because you could only afford to get the big issues fixed today.

After six wrong turns you finally pulled into the parking lot. Your friend had recommended this garage when you’d told her this car had been having all sorts of issues, and she insisted on here. You had your doubts when she pulled up the Instagram of one of the mechanics to show you the shop and ended up going on about how hot he was for several minutes, but you didn’t really have any other options.

It looked official enough. The brick building was large enough to house two large garage doors that opened up the shop to the dusty parking lot. Peering inside, you could see that there weren't many people inside the garage. There were only two mechanics in your line of sight, the closer of the two venturing back and forth between his toolbox and the taillights of an old Chevy, and you were their only customer as far as you could tell. You shrugged, Maybe they’re understaffed. 

You shrugged before swinging the car door open and grabbing your purse out of the passenger’s seat, brushing off your pants before you made your way in. There wasn’t a front desk or a receptionist to talk to, and you got the feeling that this shop was solely run and staffed by the men inside. 

You spent several moments hovering by one of the garage doors, shuffling your feet and trying to catch the eye of one of the mechanics, but neither of them looked up. Entirely too absorbed in their work to notice your presence. They must not get very busy. 

“Um…hello?” You spoke, trying not to startle either of them. 

They both turned to you, and the man who’d been fixing up the Chevy opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by his coworker, who jogged over from where he'd been partially hidden from view behind a rack of miscellaneous parts, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and muttering a quick, “I’ve got her, Min.” 

“Min” chuckled and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

Oh god. 

“Hey Doll, what can I do for ya?” Something about the way he sauntered up to you and smiled so gently immediately filled your stomach with butterflies, but you chose to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity.

Doll. That was a new one, and you felt that anyone else uttering that word toward you would’ve disgusted you to your core. But something about this stranger was strangely comforting. Maybe it was the way he tilted his head as he waited for you to speak. Maybe it was the baseball cap strewn backward on his head. Or maybe it was the strands of his taupe hair that fell in front of his face, strands you imagined yourself brushing up under his hat.

Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your purse, “I’m, uh, having some car issues.”

The laugh he let out, and the curve of his lips that accompanied it, made the tips of your ears burn, “‘Course you are, sweetheart. Anything in particular, though?”

“Oh,” you chuckled softly along with him, “Well, he mentioned that the acceleration’s been kinda weird, and I thought the engine was a little loud when I drove it here today. Sorry, I don’t really know a ton about cars.”

He hummed and tapped his foot a couple of times, “Which one is it?” 

You pointed across the lot. 

“Alright, let me pull it into the garage,” he put his hand out in your direction. 

You stared at it, confused, and when you looked back up at his face he was smiling at you again. Stupid smile. He made your heart flutter more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Keys, sweetheart. Your keys.”

“Oh,” you scrambled around in your purse before handing them over, embarrassed. 

He took them from you with a 'thanks doll' and a tip of his head, hand hovering over his forehead in a way that made you think he was used to wearing hats much bigger than this simple baseball cap. Before you could even question it further he was jogging across the lot and pulling the car through the big garage doors. 

When he stepped out of the car he looked at you curiously, “This your car?”

You shook your head, “No it’s my boyfriend’s. He’s been…busy…lately, so he hasn’t been able to bring it in. He keeps complaining about it, though, so I just decided to do it for him, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, nodding slowly. 

“What?” you asked, moderately offended.

He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand, “Nothing. Sorry. You just seemed a little unsure is all.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I honestly think he just kept complaining so I would get tired of his whining and go on and get it fixed myself,” You chuckled awkwardly. Why the fuck were you telling him this? You started to feel a little embarrassed.

And that feeling only got worse when you saw the mildly horrified look on his face. 

You shook your head and ran a frustrated hand through your hair, “Can you just fix it?”

That pretty fucking smile came back, and your grip on your hair tightened just a little in frustration. “Of course I can. Glad you brought this in when you did, honestly. Seems like your boy toy’s got a bit of an exhaust leak. Could be pretty dangerous, so it's good to get it off the road.”

“Ah, perfect.” You shifted on your feet, “How long will it take, do you think?”

He lifted his hat and ruffled his messy hair before readjusting it on his head. Why did every little movement he made drive you crazy? “Unfortunately, issues like this take a couple days. I doubt I could get her done any sooner than tomorrow.”

You nodded, “Okay. I’ll try and get a ride home then.”

“Alright, Doll. Let me write down your number real quick so I–so we can call ya when she’s ready.”

You wrote down your name and number for him on a pink sticky note that he stuck to the dash. 

“Perfect!” He smiled at you, “We’ll call ya tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, “Awesome! Thank you…Oh. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Yunho. My name is Yunho, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake.

And you couldn’t help the ramming of your heart in your chest when he took your hand into his own.

Yunho watched as you stepped out into the parking lot to call someone, presumably that questionable boyfriend of yours who seemed to be way more trouble than he was worth. He couldn’t help how his heart had dropped when you told him you had a boyfriend in the first place. After a long while of singleness, he was kind of hoping to test the waters when he saw you, and it even seemed like you responded positively to his obvious flirtations.

“So a boyfriend, huh?” Mingi startled him from behind.

Yunho let out a small sigh, trying not to let himself get too worked up about it. You had only met twenty minutes ago for fucks sake. “Yeah, seems like a real piece of work though.”

“Really?” MIngi gave his friend a skeptical side-eye, “Or is that the jealously talking.”

“No, seriously! This is his car. And she said it’s been actin’ up for a while, but he never made the time to bring it in. She only brought it here ‘cause he wouldn’t stop whining ‘bout it.”

“Huh. Sounds kinda child-like to me, but who are we to judge? We haven't even met the dude,” Mingi pat his friend on the back, “Try not to let it get you down, man. I’m sure there’s a cowboy-lovin girl right around the corner waiting for you.”

Yunho nodded, moving along so Mingi would let the whole thing drop. But no matter how many times he repeated in his head that you were taken, he just couldn’t stop looking over in your direction. You just seemed so…tired. He didn’t want to assume, but he got the feeling that this boyfriend of yours might be the main cause of that. And try as he might to reign in his ego and keep it in check, he couldn't help the part of him that knew that, whatever this man was providing for you, he could do so much better. That wasn’t really his place, though. So he let you be. 

“Yeonjun what do you mean you’re busy? You were on the couch when I left an hour ago,” you sighed through the phone.

“Baby, come on. You know I have a gig tonight,” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “And I need to get in the right headspace, so I can’t leave the apartment. It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Is that really more important than picking me up? I’m stuck here.”

“I don’t know. Call an Uber?” Oh, you were gonna kill him.

“What? Why would I pay for an Uber when I have a boyfriend at home with my perfectly functioning car who could drive his ass over here and pick me up? For free!”

You hated how difficult it was to get him to help you out in any way. Why did he have to be so stubborn? “Listen, I really can’t break my flow right now. Maybe wait a couple hours, and I’ll come pick you up, okay? Or maybe have one of your friends pick you up.”

“It’s 3 pm on a Tuesday, Jun. Most people are at–” He hung up on you, “Work..” You trailed off.

God, this is so embarrassing. What the hell were you going to do now? You could call an Uber, but you could barely afford groceries this week. And getting this car fixed was gonna drain the last of your paycheck. 

You bit at your lip anxiously, wracking your head for options. Your friends would be more than happy to pick you up, but most of them wouldn’t get off work for another two hours. So maybe you could just wait until then. Or maybe you could hitchhike? The highway was miles off. And your gut wrenched at the idea of a stranger knowing where you lived…But maybe that could work. Or maybe you cou–

“Everything alright out here, sweetheart?” 

You jumped at his voice, “Oh! Yeah,” you scratched at your head, trying to force a smile, “My boyfriend’s just really busy, so he can’t come get me.”

“Do you…need a ride?” He offered sincerely, “I don’t wanna overstep or anything, but I could help ya if you need it.”

“Oh god no! You don’t have to do that.”

He grinned softly at you, “It’s really nothing at all. I’ll tell you what, I’m leaving here in about an hour. If you can’t find a ride before that, you’ll let me give you drive you home.”

Just say ‘yes.’ Your brain was practically begging you to speak, but you knew this would cause an argument with Yeonjun. A random handsome man bringing you back to the apartment? Oh, it was a recipe for disaster. But what other choice did you have? It wasn’t like he was gonna pay for an Uber to help you home or pick you up himself. No, he left you stranded here with a shit reason, so you were gonna get home the best way possible, and, if it pissed him off, that was his own damn fault.

“Ok,” you smiled up at him, “If you really don’t mind.”

“Trust me, Doll, it’s no problem at all. Let me just finish a couple things up and change, and then we’ll get going, okay?”

You sat on the bench inside the shop while he finished his work. Trying to give yourself a moment to breathe. This was supposed to be your day off. You had finally been able to get a break from both of your jobs, and this is how you were spending it. Trying to fix the car of your boyfriend who couldn't even put his “pre-show ritual” on hold to make sure you got home safe. Part of you was mad at him. Livid that his priorities were so far in the gutter. But you were mostly angry at yourself. Because at the end of the day, when all was said and done, you were the one who had spent six whole years of your life bending over backward for a man who wouldn’t even reach out his arm to catch you. 

You worked two jobs to support the two of you. Your paychecks paid for groceries, rent, insurance, everything. And what did he pay for? Nothing. Because he didn’t have a job. He played two gigs every month at the dingy bar two miles from your apartment, which somehow justified not even bothering to look for employment. 

How did you even get here? A deep sigh rose out of your throat. What the hell were you doing all this for? Your head hurt just thinking about all the times he’d let you down and all the stupid little arguments those let-downs had caused. And yet you were still out here paying his bills and running his errands.

“Alright, sweetheart, ready to go?” You broke out of your spiral when he called for you, and you looked up to see him no longer in the denim and baseball cap he was sporting earlier. 

Lord help me. You silently prayed to whoever might be listening, swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat. He was sporting a light blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons left open so his collarbones were exposed and a light brown cowboy hat that almost exactly matched his hair. A cowboy. Of course. You couldn’t help the racing of your heart as he reached to adjust the brim of his hat. Unsure of whether you wanted to praise or curse whatever fate had sent him your way.

You cleared your throat and stood up from the bench, barely pushing a ‘yes’ out of your mouth. 

He grinned and motioned for you to follow him to the parking lot. The innocent gesture left you lightheaded as you focused on the way his index and middle fingers curled towards his wrist.

As you approached, he gestured to a baby blue pickup truck, “Here she is. My baby.” You chuckled, endeared by the pet name, the image of him gently patting the hood of 'his baby' as he walked around the front of the truck with you reminding you of cowboys in old westerns, leaning their foreheads against their mares as they gently stroked their manes. 

It was sweet. So sweet that you almost missed the fact that he was coming around to the passenger side of the truck with you.

He brushed past you, reaching for the passenger-side door. Swinging it open, he held out a hand to you, and you took it without much thought. 

“Up you go,” he said with a playful lilt to his voice, helping you hold your balance as you climbed into the truck.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Doll. I got ya.” He was going to be the death of you for sure.

“Ten years. You’ve been working there that long?” you looked over at him, amazed, “How old are you?”

He let out a hearty laugh, “Twenty-five. Mingi and I used to come up after school every day and help out. His grandpa used to run the shop but he retired a few years back and left it to him.”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” The thought of a little Yunho sweeping the floors and vacuuming cars made you smile. 

He hummed, “Yeah, it’s been a real nice job. Flexible hours, good pay, get to meet pretty girls from time to time.”

The tips of your ears burned at his blatant flirting. You looked over to see him focused on the road in front of you. The rays of the late afternoon sun shone on his face, letting you see the tan glow of his skin up close. 

Why did you have to meet such a seemingly perfect man today? Why couldn’t this opportunity have fallen into your lap six years ago? 

And fuck you knew you needed to end things. But more than half a decade of your life had been poured into this relationship and you couldn’t find it in your heart to let that go so easily.

Yunho noticed you looking over at him in his periphery, expecting some kind of playful rebuke, but was more than a little worried by your silence. Afraid he'd crossed a line, he was quick to apologize, eyes sincere and tone sober when he chanced a proper glance your way. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’ mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! It’s fine,” You assure him, unconsciously threading your fingers through the ends of your hair, “I just don’t usually get this kind of attention. I know you’re just being playful.”

He nodded, some of his playfulness seeping back into his expression as he cleared his throat, adjusting the brim of his hat as he fixed his attention back onto the road in front of him. “I promise I’m not lyin’ about the ‘pretty’ part, though. I hope you know that.”

You scoff, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks rise, “Thank you…”

Silence enveloped the two of you after that, but he didn't seem to mind. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming along to the music playing out of the car's stereo. In another life, one where the man waiting for you back at your apartment wasn't hell-bent on driving you insane, you wanted to believe that you could be strong enough to look away. To ignore the butterflies filling your stomach. To ignore the way he made your heart flutter. But you just couldn’t find it in you to look away, but he didn’t seem to catch on.

He thinks it's cute that you think he doesn’t notice. He’s very keen on noticing your every little move. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear when he called you pretty and the way you awkwardly fidgeted with your bag when you told him that you didn’t normally receive that kind of attention.

It took every ounce of self-control in his body to keep him from prying. But he couldn’t help the way he started to hate this man that he’d never met even more. What he wouldn’t give to have a partner who was willing to go get his car fixed without asking. Someone who was so dedicated to the relationship that they were willing to sacrifice the little free time they had just to help out.

As he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he glanced over at you and met your eyes for a second. You quickly whipped your head away, embarrassed that you’d been caught red-handed. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, smiled, “Here we are.”

“Mhm,” you nodded awkwardly, busying yourself with checking that you had all your things set to go. “Thank you for the ride. It means a lot.”

“Not a problem at all, Doll. Need me to walk you up?” he asked, leaning forward to try and meet your eyes.

You shook your head, “No, I’ll be alright.” You gave him a smile, “So you’ll call me tomorrow?”

He nodded, the tip of his hat dropping slightly, “Yep, I should be done with ‘er around noon.”

“Perfect! Again, thank you so mu–”

You were cut off by the sound of someone pounding on the passenger side window. Both of you turn at the sudden commotion. 

Yunho watched as you hurriedly swung the door open and slid out of the car. And he heard a muffled, “Jun, what the hell!?” after you’d slammed the door of his truck.

Ah, the boyfriend.

“Are you insane? What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled.

Yeonjun glared at you through the wild strands of his crimson hair, “My problem!? Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh, that’s your issue? That I had to have the mechanic drive me home?” You seethed, jabbing a finger into his chest, “This could’ve easily been avoided if you had picked your sorry ass off the couch to drive me home yourself. Like any decent partner would.”

Your not-so-subtle jab seemed to go over his head, his mind too focused on the image of you smiling and blushing in response to a man that wasn’t him. “You really couldn’t have found a woman to drive you home? It just had to be this dick.”

“No, Yeonjun, I couldn’t find a woman to drive me home. You know why? Because it’s a Tuesday afternoon and all of my friends have jobs. Unlike you who can’t even take the time to take a break from whatever the fuck you do all day to give me a ride.”

He gawked at you, clearly offended, “I have a job.”

“Oh my god. This again?” You ran a frustrated hand over your face, “No. You don’t. Practicing with your bandmates twice a week and playing a single gig a month is not a job. You make $100 a month.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a nine-to-five? I like my schedule the way it is.”

You could feel angry tears forming at the back of your eyes, stinging as you held them back, “You think I DO!? Yeonjun, I work sixty hours a week trying to keep us afloat. I pay for our food, our rent, our insurance, your fucking car! And I can’t even get you to pick up the damn apartment when I’m gone.” The tears started falling before you even realized it, shocking both of you. It had been a long time since he’d last seen you cry. Because you always chose either anger or an eerily calm response to his childishness. Knowing deep down that he wouldn’t be able to comfort you if you slipped into vulnerability. “I’m fucking tired Jun. This was my first day off in three months, and I spent it trying to get your car fixed. And I can’t even get a ‘thank you’ out of you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. You aren’t nineteen anymore, and I think it’s time you grow the fuck up.”

He didn’t say anything. The anger in his face replaced by a mix of shock and awkward discomfort, one of a man who was embarrassed to even be in this situation.

You stayed like that for a beat, holding your breath, praying for the moment when he realized everything he’d done wrong. Where he woke up from the immature daze he’d been trapped in since you were teenagers. But you supposed that was all wishful thinking, the tension broken not by either of you, but by a honk from behind him. His bandmate was here to pick him up. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. “We’ll talk about this later,” he mumbled before jogging up to his friend’s car and sliding into the passenger seat. You watched him give his friend one of their ridiculous handshakes, the sound of blaring music and feminine laughter spilling out into the parking lot before the car door slammed shut. The scene was so ironic in the face of everything he'd just yelled at you for that you really couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up through your tears, bitter as acid on your tongue.

Yunho sat in his truck as he watched your asshole of a boyfriend leave the parking lot. He stayed like that for a while, watching you wipe at your tears and try to compose yourself. When you’d calmed down enough for his conscience to let him leave, he looked down at the passenger seat and noticed you had left your purse behind.

Grabbing the bag, he exited the truck and approached you. Trying his best not to startle you, he cleared his throat. 

Surprised by the sound, you turned around to find Yunho standing there awkwardly, holding out the purse you now realized was missing from your shoulders, “You left your bag.”

“Oh…thank you.” You mumbled, closing the distance and grabbing it from him with a bit more force than you meant to. The mechanic didn’t so much as flinch.

How could he when his heart hurt for you? This woman he could barely even claim to know. He hated the fact that you felt the need to respond defensively, the pain in your eyes, and how you could barely look at him. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of this. It wasn’t your fault. But Yunho knew without you having to say anything that you were incredibly embarrassed. 

“Listen–”

“Oh god. Please don’t”

His shoulders dropped, “I just wanted to–”

You lifted a hand to stop him, “Yunho, please. You’ve been so kind to me, and I really appreciate your help today. But please for the love of god don’t make me dump my relationship problems on you.”

“Hey now,” he said, holding both his hands up in a calming motion as he spoke in a voice so deep and steady in contrast to your own that it caught you by surprise, “I don’t mean to push or pry, Doll, you just look like you could use someone to talk to is all.”

“I just don’t want you to think down on me,” you sighed.

He looked at you sincerely, slipping the hat from his head and placing it on the hood of the truck, “Now, have I given you the impression that that’s somethin’ I would ever do?”

The appreciative smile you gave him almost made him melt. You leaned back against the side of his truck, tilting your head back until it hit the window with a soft thud, “I’m just so tired.”

Yunho slid next to you, awkwardly scuffing his boot into the pavement, “Would it be too rude to say I could tell?”

You chuckled, “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve been trying for years to get him to just put in an ounce of effort, but he won’t budge. But we’ve been together so long I don’t know if I have it in me to end things.”

“You know it’s not your job to teach him how to be an adult, right? He’s a grown-ass man. You shouldn’t have to beg him to help you out.” 

The somber look in your eyes when you looked up at him made Yunho want to pull you in and hug you to his chest, but he respected your boundaries. 

“I know. I just…” you trailed off, no longer finding it in yourself to argue for your relationship.

Yunho took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he wanted to get off his chest, “Look, Doll, I don’ wanna overstep or anything, but I’m gonna be blunt with you.” He paused, giving you room to tell him to stuff it and save it for someone else if you wanted to. But you were looking up at him expectantly, teary eyes nearly pushing his little speech clean out of his skull. He had to clear his throat a little before continuing. “The way that man treats you is just disgusting. For everything you do for him? The least he could do is make sure that your apartment is spotless and you never have to cook again. And I’m not saying it’s me who should give it to you, but you deserve worlds better than that.”

“Yeah…” was all you could get out before you felt a tear fall down your cheek, and you tried to wipe it away before Yunho saw. But of course he noticed.

Tentatively, he placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort, running his thumb along the fabric of your t-shirt. You surprised him, though, when you turned into him and started sobbing into his chest. Your fingers desperately gripping his button down.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. Holding you with so much warmth and sincerity that you felt safer than you had in years. In the arms of a stranger, no less.

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha

ateez taglist: @certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world

ok cowboy: @saintriots @ateezswonderland @fairyofhueningkai

[fillinforlater]

Maknae Royale

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung, Wang Yiren, Lee Gahyeon, Park Sujin (Swan), Jeon Somi, Shin Yuna, Kim Yerim (Yeri), Im Yeojin (9some)

Length: 10.000 words

Tags: live action porn, porn game, fucking for points, Team Battle Royale, squirting kink, edging kink, bimbofication, brat taming, doggy, fingering, face riding, blue balling, jerking you off, titfuck, standing sex, step-bro I'm stuck, anal, creampie, anal creampie, eating out, blowjob, face fucking, deep throat, rough sex, missionary, full nelson, against the wall, piledriver, mating press, overstimulation, porn_star!you / porn_rookies!idols

TW: even after editing, this is messy and chaotic and pure sex lol

Inspiration: the idea of a Maknae focused fic is not new, but I just went all in. This is also based on this vote I send out a while ago lol. I think I can name drop @writerpeach cuz I remember him saying sth like that.

Credit: @erospandemos for the cover art! Thabk you very much!

(A/N: One year after C.Ollection, I'm trying my best to celebrate and repeat that craziness, have fun! The beginning is a reference to Labyrinth of the Six. This is the same universe but not a sequel!)

-

"I was looking for copper and I found gold!"

You turn off the purring engine of your car. It is clearly not as nice as the purring of the girl you were in balls deep mere minutes ago, but let's be honest, those purrs should not be compared; one is mechanical, the other borderline maniacal. You let out a sigh as you kill the annoying lights in your car to focus on the call you just accepted.

"Hi, is this really how you're greeting me?" you respond, letting your fingers glide over the steering wheel as you watch a single car pass by in the middle of this warm, humid night.

"Oh, man, stop complaining!" the director says and laughs. You can hear him type something on an old keyboard, each tap of his fingers obnoxiously loud. "I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime—something this great, it needs no greeting."

You rub your nose, then the inside of your eyes filled with tiredness and exhaustion. She was needy tonight, you gave her two rounds, 140 minutes of a hard pounding until the clock struck a merciless 3am. Yes, you were counting the minutes, it was necessary. Otherwise Jiwon’s cunt would have drained you early, which is unbecoming of a porn actor of your caliber.

"Look," you halt the director's enthusiasm with a groan. "I'm doing good right now. Money—I got enough; my love-life is good too. Maybe I'll take a break for a couple of months until my next—"

"No, listen!" he shouts in absolute excitement, like he has been enlightened by the truth. "This script, it's so fucking good! It lit a fire in me, I can already see the setting, the actresses, you—it's perfect. This can even top your Labyrinth performance—you remember, the six hotties—"

"Of course I do!" There you go. Your heart beat is picking up in tempo. How could you forget the pleasure, the absolute thrill of having sex with six gorgeous women at the same time? Don’t kid yourself, this already felt like one in a million—to flat out reject another offer that could be of this magnitude would be absolutely foolish. “Fuck it. Send me the script, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh, you will,” the director says, absolutely certain that you will accept in a heartbeat after reading this ominous script. “I’ll start looking for actresses.”

#

The script is complex, wild, otherworldly—implementing it took weeks of preparation. Luckily, your part in this clusterfuck is rather simple: be hard, go hard and stay hard. The first two are deeply rooted within you. Seeing the girls’ incredible faces and even greater bodies has you ready to get a raging erection at any time, while some of their slutty mannerisms and lewd words dripping from their tongues like venomous drool urge you to go as hard and rough as you can. Hell, they’ll basically beg for you—why would you hold back?

The only issue is that there are too many of them. No matter how hot they are or how horny you are, at some point there is nothing left. You will be drained and there is no shame in admitting defeat to them. So once again, you’ll have to resort to some performance enhancers to stay hard like a diamond while drilling into cave after cave. It’s a pink pill this time, tiny, you barely notice it, both in the palm of your hand and in your throat. Take a deep breath and feel it surely doing its job already. 

You open your eyes in the midst of a studio room that looks like a submarine. Dim light, large, black holes around you, each with a large porthole-like door in the middle; it feels gloomy, mysterious, unsettling. A single camera is pointed at you, live streaming each droplet of sweat running down your face. Feel the artificial warmth of a nearby heater creep up your thin clothes, giving you chills. It cannot match the heat within you.

The red light atop the camera turns off. Sixty seconds from now, one of the portholes will open. The glass in them is blurry, obscuring any view of the chaos happening behind them. You of course know the script inside out, but the girls’ are still somewhat unknown. You’ve never seen them face to face, only in zoom calls, their bodies looked fantastic and because they are rookies, they should also be tight, but you don’t know how they will handle the pressure, all the eyes on them, the revealing outfits, the unbridled sex—

Around thirty seconds now. You grab your trousers and feel blood rushing out of your legs. Feet tingle, the tips of your fingers as well. This pill, it has your heart racing somewhere, racing from something, to anything. Eyes tremble, vision blurrier than the glass before you, behind you, around you. 

You’ve never felt more alive and dead at the same time.

With a loud hiss, the porthole to your left swings open, wide open, flooding your entirely empty room with copious amounts of fog and the smell of fresh fruits. The vibrant color scheme of pastel pink, magenta, light purple and white fills your view as you step into what looks like Princess Peach’s private castle, its kitchen, living room and bedroom. It’s like one explosion of cuteness and innocence, quite charming, very fake.

“Oh, he’s already here. Look, Barbie!”

“That’s not my name, Yiren. Hello, handsome stranger!”

The two girls fit the concept of the room perfectly. Such bright smiles, happiness pouring from their cute little faces; you knew they would nail this performance the moment you saw their pictures and heard their voices. Wonyoung, the tall girl with her incredibly long legs truly looks like a Barbie doll: tiny ribbons adorn her endless chocolate hair while the pink crop top and straight denim skirt make you want to play with her all night, undress her everywhere.

Yiren on the other hand blends in with the room to such a degree, you’d assume they cannot be sold separately. The chinese girl boasts hair the color of peaches, her tight white dress sparkles because of small, silver details spread across it, while her face leaves no doubt that she is, in fact, a princess. 

The two get closer to you, before Wonyoung starts to speak up again, her voice in a sassy, yet genuinely adorable pitch.

“Aw, are you shy? No need to be, we’re all here to have fun. Isn’t that right, Yiren?”

“You’re right, Barbie. Let’s play some games and make it a night we won’t forget,” Yiren adds, quieter and calmer than Wonyoung, with a smile that warms the heart.

“S-sure,” you respond to the two girls bouncing up and down in front of you like hyped up kangaroos. “B-but what are we going to play?”

“You see,” Wonyoung starts. “Yiren and I are a team and we have a mission to fulfill. Can you help us?”

“I’d love to, but what is the mission?”

Yiren turns towards Wonyoung, who’s already grinning at her. They share a nod and Yiren suddenly wraps herself around one of your arms, while Wonyoung occupies the other. Feel their slender bodies rub on your limbs, their natural heat and rapid heartbeats working towards your own, increasing it with every step they guide you towards a bed in the corner of the room. It’s at least double queensized, filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

“Let me explain it to you,” Wonyoung says and climbs atop the purple sheets. “Our mission is to make this bed as wet as possible.”

“Well that sounds easy,” you respond. “Just get some tap water and dump it on here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yiren whispers in your ear and suddenly places her hands all over your back and chest. 

“No tap water, only natural juices are allowed,” Wonyoung hums and her hands casually open her skirt. It falls on the bed and she is quick to kick it away. She looks even more tempting and ruinable in her tiny tight panties with a wet teddy bear on the front. “We need your help to get these juices out of us, pretty please?”

“Yes, pretty please?” Yiren adds and cups the bulge in your pants. “It will be so much fun, I promise. Doesn’t Barbie look tight? Don’t you want to fuck her until she bursts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Splendid,” Wonyoung laughs and throws away her crop top as well. Meanwhile Yiren finds the hem of your pants and tugs them down oh-so easily, the only resistance is your hard member, which Yiren promptly points at her team partner who has her legs spread invitingly. 

She’s so hot.

As if she read your mind, Yiren tempts you into finally going hard:

“She looks so hot. Go fuck her.”

Like a tiger desperate for food, you crawl onto the bed and tackle your prey into a mountain of teddy bears. Your fingers find the very specific teddy bear on Wonyoung’s panties, you push it to the side to find a pink slit. A final look at her glistening eyes before you press your cock onto her equally glistening slit and after some adjustments, you enter her. 

Wonyoung shrieks cutely, her thin fingers wrap around your biceps’ and she holds onto them as you start to slowly pump into her. The two of you need time to realize where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re doing it. All acting for the camera is gone in this bliss, at least for a couple of seconds. Then it all comes back with Yiren, eagerly who jumps on the bed as well.

“You need to hurry up, we don’t have forever.”

You slip a hand under Yiren’s dress to quickly shut her up. No panties.

“How about you start helping, princess,” you fight back. “Go rub Wonyoung’s clit while you ride my fingers. Oh, and Wonyoung.”

“Ye-yes?” the young girl moans.

“Open your mouth wide. I need you to drool on these.”

Both Yiren’s pussy lips and Wonyoung’s normal lips—though their lusciousness and thickness is far from mere ‘normal’—part as soon as your fingers graze them. The latter is quick to slobber all over them while you recklessly pump them into her; Yiren still has reservations and instead opts to look at you with adorable glassy eyes.

“I-I feel so full,” she moans, shivers throughout her entire body. You softly smile at her and start to curl your fingers, purposefully dragging them alongside her walls while your palm reaches her clit. “Ah, i-it feels—”

Holy shit. Whatever chemical they put into this pill, it has a tendency to just kill your patience. In what can only be described as a loss of all control, your body only moves towards fulfilling the mission. Your fingers start to violently pump into Yiren’s pussy and Wonyoung’s mouth, both quickly spilling liquids out of them. Especially Wonyoung, the Barbie girl below you, becomes a dispenser of juices when you violently fuck into her tight pussy.

“Too fast, ah!” Yiren screams, her hands wrapped around your wrist, unable to prevent the surge of lust in your body. 

“Fuck, sorry. I can’t stop me.” You groan, not really sorry about the stuff happening to you, to them and—oh God! Wonyoung’s tiny frame, those cute hard abs, get bulged by your massive erection. A bit of skin and muscles, pushed up by your relentless thrusts, and she is also seeing it. Is she panicking, losing her mind to how you violate almost her entire body?

Her pussy is quick to give you an answer: like a broken, public fountain, she shoots water at you, suddenly soaking your body in her warm pussy juices. With their strong, lewd smell they are the perfect liquid to stain the sheets, more than your balls or her drool can produce. Much to your dismay, most of the nectar gets stuck on you. 

“Fuck, turn around,” you command the thin fuckdoll and because she is too enamored by her heavy orgasm—her tiny thighs and long legs trembling up high in the air—you grab her hips and spin her around. Now in Doggy, you keep her upright by pulling her chestnut colored hair and plunge back into her still twitching cunt.

Wonyoung is completely overwhelmed. Instead of the cute, girlie moans you’d expect from her pretty lips, she grunts uncontrollably, her voice still hoarse from your fingers that played with her mouth. The grunts, however, are nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from her pussy as you thrust into the warm cavern, desperate to get more out of it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” both you and Wonyoung groan. The tips of her fingers dig deep into a soft stuffed toy while yours knead her soft butt. The sight of it is amazing; not a big dumpy, like you’ve seen on countless actresses, but so flawlessly smooth with an impossibly tiny asshole you one day need to get your tongue into.

“Pl-please, me-me too.”

Yiren crawls closer to you, her skirt pulled up, her cunt a leaking mess that needs something inside it. The live action fucking in front of her has her on the edge, ready to do her part to fulfill the mission, but you are too mesmerized by Wonyoung. 

“Wony, lick her pussy. Get your tongue into her, fuck!” you shout, lost in your frenzy.

The barely thinking, barely functioning Barbie gets her hands onto Yiren’s thighs, at first only breathing, hissing, moaning into the princess’ crotch. It’s enough for Yiren to finally take the lead, forcing Wonyoung’s face straight onto her puffy lips, and the younger surrenders. She kisses and licks all over Yiren’s delicious cunt, the bundle of nerves atop it never left out. Yiren shudders.

“Oh God, oh Go~d, fuck!”

Yiren is louder than a fucking bomb when she explodes onto Wonyoung’s face and more importantly, the bed. Her nectar splashes all over the sheets, their color darkening beneath her knees. Finally, the three of you have made significant progress, and you are eager to make more. Especially Wonyoung seems to be more turned on than before; her pussy is even tighter, her walls ripple as she continues to eat Yiren out. 

“You like that, huh? Your face deep in her pussy?” you ask her and give her cute ass a firm spank. “Such a dirty princess!” 

“Yesh!” Wonyoung shouts, pressing her behind into your pistoning cock. 

“You like my cock fucking you senseless, getting into your insides? You want it all, deeper?”

“Yesh, pleash!”

“Try to push me out, Wonyoung, squeeze me with your stupid little pussy!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! I’m—”

Yiren shuts her team partner up by grinding on her face. It’s enough to send Wonyoung into an orgasmic frenzy—again—and the moment you pull out, she squirts—again—everywhere. It was amazing, absolute bliss for you, but you are not there yet. You need to cum, inside a hot, clenching hole and so you disrupt the two princess’ love making.

Yiren fits perfectly into your hand. She is almost as light as Wonyoung, so you pick her up and place her on the head of the bed. The young woman is still frozen in surprise, her eyes uncertain, then shocked when you spread her legs wide and align your cock with her pussy.

“Oh God, it’s t-too big,” she whines even before you’re inside her.

“You can take it, Yiren, you’re such a good and pretty princess,” you mindlessly groan as you stare at her, then her nipple peeking out above her increasingly bunched up dress. “Now cum all over me.”

Yiren is too easy. Only a few strokes of your cock alongside her velvety walls and her entire body ripples. It starts with her cunt, soon goes to her torso and limbs, before she squirts like a broken garden hose. If the bed was a garden, countless flowers would bloom in it—and Wonyoung wants to make sure you stay to help them. 

“You have to stay,” she whines. “Stay inside her and make her cum again.” She pushes you, forces you to almost slip inside Yiren again. From the corner of your eye however you see a red light, the indicator that you have to switch scenes right now.

“I think I did enough.” You pull away Wonyoung’s slender arms and Yiren’s feet trying to get you back inside her. “Get some toys or use your fingers. I’m not playing for your team, you need to play together.”

Yeah, sure, something like that was in the script. Luckily, even these two remember that the show must go on. At least Wonyoung does. The Barbie gets handsy, waving you goodbye while plunging her beautiful, long fingers into Yiren's cunt. What a waste that you won’t cum on those digits tonight.

"Have fun~" Wonyoung cheers as you disappear from her view, towards the next porthole which is already open.

Before you can take in the next setting fully, a nude, masked woman greets you by pulling your face down into her sizable cleavage.

"Quick, get him in here," another voice, feminine yet deep, straightforward yet mysterious, calls and you feel hands all over your body, as they drag you into the room. You only catch glimpses of its interior, a dark, unsettling dungeon with iron bars and cold, smooth walls, akin to the setting of certain Japanese videos you—a friend of yours—used to watch—for scientific reasons.

"Here, pin him down."

That voice just now is truly incredible, if only you could see who it belongs to. Unluckily, you only get to see the ceiling as four hands throw you onto a table. Those two are strong, you think, because your back hurts at the impact.

Suddenly, your view gets replaced by a smooth pussy and jiggly thighs trapping your head on the wooden surface. You take deep breaths, the strong smell of arousal quickly filling your nose. A finger boldly flicks your cockhead.

"Oh, you're really turning him on, Gah," the other woman says, your pulsating cock in her fist. "Ride his face, and I think we’ll get our first points soon."

"Wh-who are you?" you barely squeeze out, words drowned out by drowning in Gahyeon's pussy juice.

"I'm Swan, but we don't have time for that. We need to win this game, which is why you have to suffer.

"Sorry, by the way."

Before you can respond, Swan's fist goes up and down your length with the violence and speed of a raging tiger, ready to fucking destroy you. Tears spawn in your eyes, precum at your tip. She drives you to the edge and keeps you there with rhythmic pumps while you imagine her face in horny delight.

"Is he there yet?" Gahyeon asks, her voice raspy and cruel.

"Why don't you ask him?" Swan responds and twirls her tongue around your balls. You twitch.

Gahyeon lifts a leg and her deadly eyes stare through a terrifying mask right at you. "Tell me when you're about to explode,” she snarks and to put emphasis on her following words, she presses a long finger nail into your abdomen. “If not, I'll kill you.

“And start licking, for fucks sake.”

She plants herself back down before you can answer. She can live with your eager tongue on her thick folds as an analogical agreement. Through Gahyeon’s almost soundproof thighs you hear her passionate groans and Swan’s continuous spitting in her hands and on your cock to get you wet and ready for more of her soft hands. 

You can’t deny that they are excellent. Yiren and Wonyoung both had tight, cozy holes, but something about Swan grabbing your dick and mercilessly pumping and twisting it makes your spine tingle. She quickly gets you to arch your back and moan into Gahyeon’s pussy, which has started to glide back and forth over your visage.

“Such a nice cock,” Swan moans. “Look at it, Gah! The head is already burning, I can feel that he’s close.”

Swan puts her second hand on your base and presses her lubed up palm on your underside while she starts to destroy your tip with violent pumps. She is a vicious succubus, trying to get your seed out efficiently without care for your sensitivity. With Gahyeon using your face like a saddle, your mind is left on hold when you loudly tap the table to signal your imminent arrival.

“Swan, now!”

The moment Gahyeon shouts, Swan is gone. No more delicate fingers to hold you, no more fists to jerk you, nothing to stimulate you. You thrust your hips up into air, unable to cum, unable to get your well-deserved release. Those fleeting seconds where you want only one thing are absolutely ruined by not getting this one thing—and then it’s over. You come back down with a devastated sigh. 

“That’s one,” Gahyeon says and looks down at you in between her legs. “But we need more.”

“I agree,” Swan says, adjusting her position in between your shivering legs. “Get him to cooperate, I’ll do the rest.”

Gahyeon once again is faster than your attempts at remonstration. She puts her small hand on your throat and carefully increases the amount of weight on it. You gasp in dread before Swan places your still hard cock in the valley of her enormous tits. The valley then turns to a compressed trap where only your glans peeks out. 

'Oh fuck', you want to, need to scream but it's futile with Gahyeon's enthusiasm to rub her labia on your lips. Swan shows a very similar need to torture you, her hands eagerly digging into the flesh of her melons and moving them up and down—both at the same time, then at different times, faster, then slower but with more pressure—is she trying to get you killed? 

Death by titfuck. That will be an eyecatching epitaph. 

"Do it faster," Gahyeon orders her teammate emphatically. "We need to get the score up."

"I know," Swan says, her voice a bit strained. "It's just unfair, you know? Getting him ready again and all that. But I think, fuck, we’re getting there. Look at his tip, isn't it cute?"

Swan licks the slit on your cockhead, cleaning the precum from it and you have to tap out again. You are so close once more, but a terrible gut feeling lets you doubt that you will cover Swan's tits with your cream. You’ve never felt so sick about being right, when she pops you free from the heavens between her large breasts.

They are right there, God dammit.

"That's number two!" Swan gleefully shouts and looks at your pole, pointing at the sky, sensitive and ready to explode, but your balls turn blue again. This can't be healthy, with how frustrated it makes you.

"Use your mouth this time, Swan—"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you do something for once?"

"Huh? We agreed on this earlier! I'm doing my part! Look, he can't even say a word."

"Pl-please," you interrupt the girls' discussion. "Let me, please, let me cum already!"

"Sorry, pal." Swan's voice is soft, and her tongue on your dick is even softer. "But we need to ruin you even more. That's how we're going to win."

"Th-then ruin your own orgasms," you plead with numbness in your mouth, caused by Swan's mouth on your barely numb manhood. "Th-this is cruel."

"He's got a point," Gahyeon thinks out loud. "Ah, fuck this game. If you can get me close, boy, I'll let you escape."

This might be your only chance to get out of this vicious cycle of ruined orgasm and painful edging. So you actually channel all your focus of your lips, tongue and teeth—whatever Gahyeon likes—on her clit. It's surprisingly easy to make her thighs around your ears squirm; Gahyeon's pussy is now wetter than Swan's mouth wrapped around your cockhead.

Suddenly, Swan gives you everything. She forces you to bottom out in her mouth, grow to full hardness once more while she violently gags. She might have been in absolute control over you for the last couple of minutes, but she is perfectly able to make her mouth a slutty hole for your cock. A soft, dominant deepthroat queen with massive tits—she is going to be a super star.

In a surge of ecstasy, fueled by Gahyeon's sweet juice, you buckle your hips upwards and force Swan to choke a little longer on your length. The young woman is not irritated however. After a single breathe she is back to going up and down you cock, sucking along it until your fucking dead. 

You know she's going to ruin it again and the only way to pay them back is by ruining Gahyeon's orgasm as well. You finger the pussy above you and quickly flick the blood-filled lips and nub, until she cries out. Then you stop, then Swan stops. She is the only one satisfied—another two points for her team.

You blink a couple of times. Gahyeon, groaning like an enraged bull, has the busty Swan pinned to the metal bars of this dungeon and with all her hatred, slaps the younger's wet cunt.

"Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"Ouch, stop!"

"No. I want to win and you want to win too, so you better ruin yourself on my fingers. Now!"

This is your cue to leave. The dungeon fills with Swan's deep grunts and groans as she finally gets to witness what she put you through again and again and again. You'd love to help Gahyeon; there will be no need for it though. The masked girl is willing to do whatever is necessary to win.

Across from the dungeon, the second to last door is already open. The room mimics a dimly lit laundromat with a dozen or so washing machines. You step inside, cock in your carefully stroking hand. After all, you’ll have to be hard for the next scene, which will be the complete opposite of the last. 

“Hello? Can somebody help me?” someone cries (let’s be honest, it’s much closer to a desperate moan) from behind a pile of freshly dried laundry atop a clothes rack. There is a sincere lack of intelligence in that cry, like said person is unable to help themselves. Makes you feel chivalrous. 

“Hey, how can I—help you?”

The sight you find behind the pile has your speech a bit halted, interrupted by how, in a room made for washing clothes, someone is severely lacking them: A gorgeous, busty blonde, in nothing but modest, white underwear, though you notice that the bra is at least a size too small and unable to fully carry the weight of her tits.

"Oh, please help me," she moans again. "I think I've picked the wrong bra for me. Can you help me cover so no one can see my boobies while I look for the next?"

What the fuck? This is so fucking stupid on so many levels. How could she—and why would she suggest—what is even happening? The cliche about blondes must be true, because this one is not only dumb as fuck, but also hotness at it's peak. From bust to bottom, no, even to her toes, her body is amazing and tempting.

"Uhm, sure, why not. Can I know your name first?" you politely ask while not so politely getting behind her and cupping her breasts.

"I'm Somi. Thank God your hands are so big, no one can see my boobies now, hihi."

Is it innate for her to sound this silly? If not for this setting, you’d be worried; no human can ever be this stupid, only a buffoon would act in such a way. But maybe Somi’s IQ is just a bit lower than the average person—or maybe she knows no boundaries? The rules of public decency and inappropriate, sexual exposure might be foreign to her? You don’t know. You just know that her boobs are soft and bouncy, two handfuls of pillows to rest your head upon, of stress balls to knead when you are, you know, stressed.

You seem to know a lot more than her, especially because she still tries to find a bra able to hold up her breasts in the midst of clothes which all have two things in common: they are colorful and they are skimpy. It’s like the laundry of a whorehouse with how many short and skin tight skirts, dresses, fishnet stockings you find, let alone the short tops or all the lingerie. Speaking of which, Somi has finally found a bikini top that might be able to do the deed your hands are gleefully doing. 

“Do you think this one is good?” she asks, holding up a new, purple bra while you slightly press at the bottom of her tits to watch them wobble on your finger tips. 

“Try it out, because I’m not so sure with your massive boobs.”

Somi giggles and tries to put on the bra. You leave enough room, really, you do, for her to tie up the thin strands, but Somi is unable to. She mewls a couple of times before you go in and securely tie up the strands yourself. You are promptly rewarded, because the blonde decides to bend down and press her ass back against your crotch, your exposed cock, rapidly hard again at the touch of her cotton panties. 

“Thank you, again,” Somi says and pushes her chest up for all to see. “What do you think, is this good?”

“Somi, is it possible that you are fucking stupid?” Oh, that sounded a lot harsher than it should have. The tension is quickly palpable. You hear someone gasp from the other end of the room.

“W-why?” Somi’s question is abashed, a bit shocked; even in this state of complete bimboness, she still looks so good. 

“Because these bottoms don’t fit your top,” you say and pull at the side of her panties until they snap off of her hips. “You should change them. White and purple don’t fit together all too well.”

Somi looks down at her cleavage, the purple lace engulfing her tits, then to her thighs which have been parted by your cock. The tip peaks from in between her legs and you softly groan out the pleasure her perfect gap gives you into her ear. There is no mere hint of slickness from her heat, there are ridiculous amounts of evidence of it, proof spreading all over. It’s a clear case of horniness, you better resolve the issue immediately. 

“You’re right,” Somi mumbles, thighs swaying. “I should look for the right bottoms. They should be in here.” Things couldn’t get any better, because now Somi is bending over, hands in the pile of clothes, while your hands are in the plentifulness of her ass. You hold her steady, align your cock with a hole that looks so ready to get fucked and then push forward. Somi almost stumbles forward, but you save her from making an even greater mess of this place by continuing to make a mess out of her. 

“Oh God,” she moans, a pink crop top in hands. “I-I can’t find it.”

“Continue, continue searching,” you groan back and slam your hips forward, then backwards, your cock entering and exiting her cunt at will—your will is strong, overpowering every small exhaustion in chase of that first true release of this messy pornographic shoot, a shoot where teams fight to win, yet this “team” does not even have a target goal.

Somi’s goal is to be stupid, oblivious to your cock gaping her pussy open time and time again, and for this being her first time on cam, she is excellent. Of course, her dumb moans can’t be deactivated, you doubt even a ball gag can fully do that, but a benevolent interpretation of this scene allows for these moans to be of desperation. Somi just really wants to find these purple bikini bottoms—your cock spreading her pussy and the camera lens on it is just a side product. 

“Da-damnit, fuck,” Somi seems to give up, defeatedly grabbing the edge of the table while you hold onto her shoulders to get faster, deeper inside of her. “They are not h-here.”

“Maybe you need to take a step back and look at it from afar,” you tell her and all it takes is a pull at her shoulders and Somi stands straight up. From now on, your thrusts go upwards and Somi can casually bounce along while her dizzy eyes try to process the color purple amidst a pile so colorful, every pride parade would become envious. 

Your arms instinctively wrap around Somi’s small waist. You need to keep her here, can’t let her get away, not when you are this close to finally cumming. Your balls are aching, your tip is stimulated and you know that it will be glorious. Somi’s body, from a face that could make news just for its beauty, paired with a pair of perky, large boobs, amplified by a tight, muscular midriff, killer hips and strong, full thighs, she has to be everyone’s type. 

People will click on her videos millions of times, yet you are about to be the first to cream her, you can call dibs on that pussy, no male rival co-star stands a chance. Your cock is ready, your legs able to give more power into the final thrusts when suddenly—

“Oh, I found it!”

—Somi leans forward, hand stretched out, ready to grab what has always been on top of this entire pile, in your view forever, in everyone’s view forever, only Somi took forever to find it: purple panties. No, they can’t ruin your perfect orgasm. You heartlessly push Somi against the table, head first into the laundry. Her scream now muffled by a dozen of clothes in her face, you manically fuck your load into her doggy until cum floods her cavern and clothes flood the laundromat floor.

Every part of you is twitching, so is Somi and her pussy. A bit more, a bit more, she squeezes out of you, but she is full. In the midst of all this chaos, this silly, flushed bitch was able to grab the panties. You give her tits a harsh slap to awaken her from the cock induced slumber. 

“Put them on, quick, before we make a bigger mess.”

Somi obliges, though shaky. You help her by holding onto her hips, her tits, all those things you could grab forever. When your shaft falls out of her pussy and you watch her catch most of your load with the tight panties, you want to push them to the side and just fuck her full pussy again. That’s when you notice someone down the aisle of washing machines—is it Somi’s teammate?

“Who the fuck is th—”

“Help, I’m stuck!”

This one is a classic. A trope so beyond stereotypical, everyone knows it. Just like the dumb blonde, this one can be found on every porn site ever. The only thing missing is that she calls you stepbro. That would be a bit too much though. Her ass sticking out of one of the washing machines while she absolutely tries to get back out of it is already cliche enough to you.

Oh yeah, she’s also completely naked.

“Oh no, Yuna is stuck!” Somi states the exposition for the viewer, who is utterly uninvolved in the engaging plot they stopped paying attention to since this video's thumbnail. “We need to help her!”

Somi waddles towards her partner. You see trails of cum running down her legs,  unceremoniously dropping to the floor and making a lewd, sticky mess of it. She seems unbothered, just like you, and the camera absolutely loves it. The view then switches from this to a new, exposed and impressively large ass.

“Help, help,” Yuna shouts again, metallic reverberation unable to dampen the stupidness in her voice. You had filmed a scene like this one already, but there are no complaints whatsoever. As long as you can get your hands on Yuna’s ass, pull those cheeks apart and get the first view of those two smooth, clean holes, why would you complain?

“How did this happen, Yuna?” Somi asks worriedly, arms alongside Yuna’s frame, definitely ‘pulling’ on her teammate's waist, while your mind imagines all the ways you could rim Yuna for hours.

“I wanted to pull my underwear out of here,” she responds with a whine. “But now I am stuck!”

Go figure, she is brainless as well. Both of them are, but nature has instead given them the envy of millions of women: divine bodies that are effortlessly sexy and beautiful. Smooth skin, toned legs, curves to die for—in your admiration you notice that your energy is returning quicker than ever before. 

It might not fit the story, the narrative, the game, but in this moment of bliss, you couldn’t care less. Knees bend, cock guided by your thumb, you press your tip against Yuna’s ring and find the entry into her asshole to be a lot easier than expected. Her moan bounces through the washing machine just like her boobs bounce in surprise. 

Confusion has Somi frozen, her body only reacting when you put force in your thrusts, enough power to make Yuna hit her dumb head against the back of the washing drum. A profuse whimper made metallic, not that you care, but Somi seems to get back into the real world where she is still as moronic as before. 

“H-how is this supposed to help Yuna?” 

It’s not. Tell her that. Tell her and Somi will continue complaining like this without getting any pleasure from you. Serves her right, won’t make the scene any better though, thus you find her neck with your hand and find her eyes with yours. They sparkle knowingly. 

“You really are the dumbest thing alive.”

A pull and Yuna is out of the drum. Blonde hair flows down her back, hides her frail shoulders and in the reflection of the metal drum you see her lips in a light, glistening pink. They are full and made for sucking. In the sea of her endless, golden hair, your hand twists and twists until Yuna voluntarily raises herself from the ground and arches her back towards you. Your goal is not to kiss her lips (though that would be one hell of an experience) but to drown her in Somi’s cleavage.

“What are you—Yuna! No, don’t pull it down, I-I just found it.”

Sweat evaporates from your temple when you see those lips wrap around one of Somi’s nipples and begin to lewdly suck on it. The thrill is engaging, Yuna’s ass invites you back in and it’s with ease that you fuck her puckered hole. You poke the depths of this suffocating cavern and Yuna begins to poke all over Somi’s body. The dumber blonde hesitates briefly, hands first on her thighs, then Yuna’s until she ends up below her friend. 

“Now you are trapped,” Yuna giggles and drool leaves her mouth in purposefully large amounts, able to transform the valley between Somi’s tits into a canal. 

“You two are so fucking stupid, fuck, fuck your hot bodies.”

You are starting to lose it, for every word they utter, your intelligence gets insulted but your arousal heightened. You spank Yuna’s ass and she tightens to the point where you need to give it your all to fuck her faster. What an odd time to notice that they haven’t told you their task yet. How can you help them get points? Shit, what was in the script again? Are you really that much smarter if you can’t remember?

“Yuna, Yuna, that feels so good,” Somi moans out and sways on the floor from side to side until you press Yuna right on top of her. With their incredible bodies entangled and you nonstop fucking into the tight ass, their sensitive spots have to rub each other, nipples on nipples, clits on clits, and Somi is the first to collapse. “Oh my God, I-I’m about to wet my panties, oh no, Yuna!”

“Me too, my butt, I’m going to cum from my butt!” Yuna’s silly fucked body, and her silly face and her silly feminine voice have you on the verge to become silly as well. Both blonde’s indulge in their wet, heavy orgasms and you push your tip back into Yuna so many times that you flood her with a pent up load that momentarily shuts down your brain.

So this is how they feel all the time—brainless but blissful. At least stupid bitches fuck good.

“Oh, Somi, there, there is so much in my ass~”

“Really? Can I feel it?”

Somi puts two fingers against Yuna’s puckered hole, but before she can get a scoop of your load that is still hidden in the tightly clenching butt, Yuna stands up. “No, Somi, ew,” Yuna shouts, moans, something in between, again. “You have to eat it straight from the butt, like this.”

You are back in the hub room, all the rooms finally open. Before you make your way to the last room, you decide to take a quick look into each scene you’ve already participated in that only users that buy the premium pass (which is off 69%, only today on k-jizzers.cum) can still watch: 

In the first room, Wonyoung and Yiren sit on the edge of the bed, fingering each other's pussies until they violently squirt all over the mattress. Both of them look sweaty and exhausted, but they continue to drink water and share saliva to go for another round. Stay hydrated, everyone.

“Let’s do this, Barbie, I know your tiny body can cum again!”

“O-okay, b-but only if you kiss me.”

In the second room, Swan is fully naked, her backside turned to you. She is tied to the metal bars with handcuffs on both of her wrists. Below her is Gahyeon, thrusting a dildo up into that tiny tight cunt, while her own hole is stuffed with a loud bullet vibrator. They are really committed to this game.

“I swear, Swan, if you cum again, I’ll kick your ass, literally!”

“S-sorry, Mommy, I try, try, try—I’m so close!”

In the third room, well, those blondes finally found a way to snowball your cum, not from mouth to mouth, but ass to mouth. Yuna sits on Somi’s face, head thrown back, unable to not moan as your white spunk oozes out of her. Bon Appetit. 

“Oh God, don’t put your tongue in!”

“But he tastes so good, let me be greedy this one time.”

The final room is a classroom, unmistakably. It has an old blackboard, a long desk for the teacher, smaller desks and chairs for the pupils. No matter when or where you’ve been to school, this will surely evoke memories of forgotten homework, endless lessons and bratty students.

 “Ew, is that the new guy?” you hear someone complain from across the room, disgust in her voice, fingernails rapidly typing on her phone. 

“Oh yeah, but what did you expect? At least he gives some big dick energy,” a response follows promptly, though this time they both look up from their phones and stare at you. You quickly find coverage behind the teachers desk to hide your manhood. A miserable attempt that has one of the girls outraged. 

“Ayo, what the fuck? Do you think you’re some kind of teacher now?”

“Maybe he is here to teach us a lesson, lol.”

Did the girl on the left, in her messed up blouse and way-too-short checkered skirt, the waistband of a light brown thong on display, just like her midriff and navel—did she just say ‘lol’ out loud? Well, at this point the viewer will neither cringe or notice, too good is this material, too hot their bodies. 

“Maybe he is here to teach you a lesson for breaking the dress code,” the girl adds as she approaches the desk. 

“Yeri, you—you’re worse than me! Everyone can see your bra, what the fuck,” the other girl shouts and goes in for a slap on Yeri’s butt. The impact has you peeking out as a small melee breaks out.

“At least I tried, Yeojin, unlike you. Where is your skirt, your blouse? I can almost see your tits.” Yeri reaches for Yeojin’s chest, which is covered by this tiny, one piece swimsuit, so tiny in fact, even Yeojin’s small body seems to spill out of it. When there is so much shortness, of course Yeojin’s shorts are no different. Her shorts are actually shorter than Yeri’s skirt, which is already quite short—

“You tried?” Yeojin shrieks and tugs at Yeri’s blouse, accidentally undressing her. Who could have known, the bra below is actually a bikini top. “It’s falling off of your body.”

“Ts,

“Hey, you fucker! Get out already, we got some beef to settle.”

Yeri kicks the desk and you hear pencils roll down from it. They surely have not forgotten about you and your assumed big dick energy, so it was no use to continue hiding. You crawl out and straighten your posture, clearly taller than the two young women who don’t waste time looking up and gawking at the height difference. Both sets of hands go straight to your abdomen, your crotch, your cock. Yeojin is the first to pump, rubbing her fishnet sleeves carelessly over your sensitive tip.

“Watch it,” you hiss and get fistfuls of their hair, which to your surprise does not faze them at all. “You two are running your mouth, spewing bullshit. This is no way how you should treat people older and taller than you.”

Yeri frees herself easily from your grasp and you gasp when her knuckles dig into your stomach. It wasn’t really a punch, but somehow, she has you stunned. A smirk appears on her feisty features. “Watch it, asshole. This is our classroom, you’re the one below us. If you want some respect, don’t flex with your height. Flex with something else. Proof your worth.”

“O-oh yeah? And how should I do this?”

“Fuck us,” Yeojin casually says and pulls back the skin on your cock to the point it hurts and all the surging blood forces you to peak stiffness. “You get points for every position, the more creative, the better. Show us that this thing is more ‘do-er’ than ‘show-er’.”

Their eyes are the epitome of ‘fuck-me’ eyes, hell, they imagined fucked you the moment you entered, and in your mind, you’ve fucked them in every conceivable way possible. With all this imaginary fuckery, it’s about due time for the real fucking to start, though it’s definitely bugging you that these small, bratty girls get to start it off and lead the way. 

Guess your positions have to be rough.

“Fine,” you sigh and get ready to push Yeojin down to her knees, but there is no need. She takes the short fall and her lips aggressively wrap around your tip before you can overthink your decision. 

“No need to agree, it wasn’t up to you anyway,” Yeri laughs and you feel her fingers roam your upper body, everything from butt, back, nape to stomach and chest. She lingers there for a long time, cupping your pecs while you imagine cupping her surprisingly big tits—then Yeri dives in and starts to suck one of your nipples, while Yeojin bops her head back and forth. 

“You tiny bitches.” They make it hard to breathe, their sluttiness and sloppiness is excellent, their enthusiasm matches that of Wonyoung. “You greedy, evil little things. You’ll regret that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yeojin moans when your cock pops from her luscious lips and you’re back to receiving harsh, painful pumps from her fishnet clad hands. “What’s stopping you, huh?”

Nothing, really, so you don’t keep them waiting any longer. You reach into the back of Yeri’s bikini bottoms while simultaneously finding a good grip on Yeojin’s ponytail. A bit of adjusting on both ends, suddenly there is nothing but sounds of horniness, of rampant, uncensored sex. Well, there is of course a lot more than that, but who could think of anything else—

—but Yeojin’s cock-sucking lips sucking cock. They are the only thick thing on this miniscule rookie pornstar. You jerk your hips forward and her nose meets your base. You keep it that way as her tight throat struggles with your size and saliva spills from her lips. 

Yeojin’s gags seem to turn on Yeri, her wet pussy dripping on your fingers as you rub it, never too fast, to keep her on the edge to—yeah, teach her a lesson. Look at that needy face, that heaving bosom, she is so desperate for more stimulation, but could never admit to it. Yeri’s pride keeps her from begging for your fingers to twirl inside her cunt.

“Is that really how you want to do it?” That’s as close to a beg as you will get from Yeri, nonetheless, you’ll give her more rubs. All this struggle is unbeknownst to the viewer, who can only see Yeri’ ecstatic face and wide open mouth as you finally insert two digits in her cunt. “That’s better, fuck.”

“Ride my fingers, Yeri. Impress me, and I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“You, you will either way,” she chirps back, voice about to break when you thrust knuckles deep and curl, all while making Yeojin your sex doll. 

Those gags of hers have become too dangerous though, so you take a step back and intensely watch as Yeojin coughs up lots and lots of saliva, letting it run down her pretty little face, her throat that was just stuffed like some obscene christmas chicken. In disbelief you watch her wipe her tears away and grin on, as if she wasn't just fighting for her life. Nothing can get Yeojin down, her brattiness is unreal.

Yeri does not seem amused at the lack of attention you give her. She pulls your hand out of her pussy and waddles towards the desk. In a burst of creativity, you grab her and slam her on the desk, on her back. Yeri winces in pain, but you already have her entrance exposed and filled before she can complain. And complain, she shall never again.

“Fuck, so big, be ca-care-ful!”

“Now that’s—oh God, you’re tight—now that’s not what I expected from you,” you groan manically, as you pin Yeri down with both your eyes and hands. “Shut up and take it. I want to see your tits bounce.”

Out of nowhere, Yeojin’s thin hand creeps under the thin string of Yeri’s bikini top and pulls it off. Finally, you can see those modest breasts swing freely while you do what you’re best at: plunging your fat cock into a wet cunt. Yeri moans, in a deep craze, deep pleasure, her hips grind in circles so you have to pin her down harder, hands in the soft flesh above those hips—just fuck faster and lose your mind.

“Yeri, your pussy looks so full,” Yeojin giggles and brushes stray hair out of her friend’s ecstatic face. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?”

“No-no, never—”

“Oh great, cuz I won’t let you,” you promptly say and pull out of that stretched hole, gaped and absolutely desperate for an orgasm that was right around the corner. A few more pumps and Yeri would have been gone, her first on cam climax was so close.

But now it’s Yeojin’s turn. After all you want those points—or is it their points? You don’t care, you just hook your arms underneath her thighs and pick her up. She’s as light as she looks and her pink cavern is as snug as you anticipate. Yeojin holds onto your neck for stability, while you split her open further and further and when she leans into you, you feel your cock bulge her.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the spot.” Use Yeojin like a fleshlight, an upgrade to her sex doll mouth, and she surrenders to the pleasure. Wasn’t this supposed to be Team Bratty or something? This is more—

“Team Cockhungry, absolute sluts,” you shout at her but Yeojin is just mindless and her lips quiver anxiously whenever you’re not guiding her small body up and down your cock. “Yeri, get on the wall. Present your ass to me, if you want this cock again.”

Yeri nods, only focused on you. She needs a second to find orientation again, while you make Yeojin lose all orientation as you spin her around and fuck her full nelson. An insane idea by the producers, stand and carry sex for the finale, but with a girl this small, it’s actually possible. You are still the unrestrained engine that pistons and pistons until Yeojin is ready to burst.

“Not yet, not yet,” you coo as you ruin yet another orgasm. A wet pop when you remove yourself from what could be a perfect hole for cockwarming, breeding and many other lewd adventures. The industry will empty their pockets to get a video with this pocket pussy girl. But for now, she is all yours and quite dismayed.

“You, you dick, better make it up later,” Yeojin says, voice deeply judgemental. It has to be ignored, because first, you have to make it up for a certain someone who wasn’t satisfied with your fingers or a short missionary fuck. Yeri needs you again, deep and hard, while her fragile legs try to keep her upright.

You watch the side of her face, the lip bite, the palms flaking off the wallpaper, the thighs trapping you and your cock is already on her labia. Yeri rubs her love juice all over your rod and you follow her plea and take the lead with a thrust that can be heard around the world.

“Fuck, it’s deep, your cock is deep in my pussy.” The disbelief in her voice sounds genuine, just like the attempt to crawl up the wall to drop back down on your cock. Yeri wants you to hit her cervix, finally cumming all over you but you need to savor this position more.

“Deeper than anything else.” A hand in her hair, you press everything of her against the wall. “I know you like it deep, your best spots are there. You’re a slut for large cocks, you only want them while standing up.”

“No, I need them to pick me up! Lift me up and fuck me, break me open deeeeep!”

Yeri must have been so envious of Yeojin. You might have picked the wrong girl to lift on high and fill from below. You can still make it up though; Yeri’s tits are repurposed as handles to pull her back onto your chest, feet suddenly flying. You might be blinded by strands of her hair all over your face, but you can still feel the weight of Yeri down on your cock, while you’re still drilling into her. She is getting higher, not only physically, but mentally. She loves nothing more than to be watched while a huge shaft fucks her. The stimulation sends her into a sea of bliss, a deep ocean, like the puddle of girl cum beneath your feet. 

“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Yeri screams and tries to choke out a load from your balls, yet all she is choking you with is her hair on your face. “I love it, y-you can finish with me—”

The last time the camera captured someone cum so hard was about thirty minutes ago, either Wonyoung or Yiren, but unlike Team Princess next door, Yeri does it involuntarily. You pound the squirt out of her sloppy cunt until your legs become a slippery lubed mess and you almost slip on the cheap classroom floor. Yeri shouts and whines, the inside of her pussy still rippling when you pull out of it.

When you place Yeri back against the wall and feel the somewhat cold studio air brush past your erection, you realize that Yeri was close to getting you off too early. You are throbbing, surfing on the edge, almost getting blue balled. The only thing that can save you is Yeojin and the only thing you see is her ass, as she props herself up on all fours in between the chairs of—

Who counts chairs and who fucking cares? Just slam your cock into her ass and hear her screech in shock at the sudden fullness of her back entrance. There will be no ruined orgasm for you this time, Yeojin’s ass is your guarantee and you doubt her brattiness will return. Not when she moans so submissively. A question remains as you bury yourself repeatedly in Yeojin’s rectum: how can she be shocked when it's all lubed up and relaxed and eager to take you back inside like the pussy of a veteran porn star?

Yeojin really was born for this job. Her petite frame will be perfect for various porn sites related to kinks: size difference, stand and carry, small tits. The videos of her getting bulged will become legendary amongst the horniest or Reddit and Tumblr communities. Guys will have their way with her, her head will be spinning after some huge guys have her unconventionally spitroasted in the air or one of those tall, muscular women takes her for a ride on a strap-on. 

They won’t have to worry about anal from her, because Yeojin takes it legendarily, narrowing at just the right time to go beyond the audio-visual perfection that is her penetrated ass—in simpler words, it feels as good as it looks. She can rival Yuna or maybe form some butt slut dream team, that’s how fucking amazing fucking her ass is.

“Yeri get back here, I’m close,” you promptly announce whilst scoring again by forcing Yeojin into a prone position and marking her shoulders with tender bites. Yeri struggles to find footing, only able to push forward because of all the tables and chairs. When she finally reaches you, you give Yeojin your final pumps as her entire frame is struck by an orgasmic earthquake. 

In this day and age, everything has to be fast, even porn has to fit the 15 second shorts, reels, tiktok culture, so you start to cum in Yeojin and push Yeri to the ground at the same time. Then you reach for Yeri’s butt while holding back as many spurts as you can, to get her in this sweet piledriver and then paint both the outside and inside off her petite yet bubbly ass. It’s perfect for a short clip, that little teaser that plays when you’re about to click on the next JAV thumbnail on that shady site.

The HD or 4K settings across all screens can never do the real sight of a blissfully filled Yeri justice, as she eagerly spreads her own cheeks and everyone gets the awesome view of cum that seeps out of a gaped ass. The upside down (pretty, little, risky) baddie cleans off that hard-working cockwith her formerly bratty mouth. Deep exhales through her nose send a nice, warm stream of air around your base, which finally loses stiffness, the tension, it comes crashing down in the well-known post-nut clarity.

In this clarity however, you find Yeri’s final defiance; her lips will not let go of your cock and her tongue on your sensitive slit makes you curl your toes and whine out the agony which shoots up to your head like electric shocks. To top it all off, you feel Yeojin grin behind you when she wraps her slender arms around your midriff. This wasn’t in the script!

“The shooting might be over,” the tiny girl whispers. “But we are not done with you.”

“There are still a lot of points to be collected. 

“And you will collect all of them.”

[katyawooga]

sevika week – day three, shimmer

— nsfw warning

shimmer was the most dangerous and the most passed around substance in the undercity. many people abused it, others discovered certain medicinal benefits. sevika was a completely different case.

you still weren't completely sure how the partial-cyborg thing worked with sevika's arm, and you were weirdly curious about the blood-to-shimmer ratio in her system. nevertheless, her chemtech arm and her capabilities while under the strengthening influence of shimmer really turned you on.

"so, tell me again how your arm works? like, you just think and it does whatever you want?" you swooned when she got all geeky and nerdy about her arm.

"i feel like i've told you a million times, cariña," she chuckled, sitting you on her lap on the couch of your shared apartment. "well, anyway, singed had to amputate my arm when it got damaged from the explosion, but he made sure to keep the important nerve endings intact..."

your eyes lazily followed where she pointed at different parts of her bionic arm, getting mesmerized seeing the neon purple liquid flowing through the mechanical veins.

"and the shimmer," you snapped back into reality after zoning out. even just her voice and how she got all technical got you going. "you never use it around me. what does it do to you?"

sevika paused and placed her human hand on your waist, caressing down to your hip.

"you don't wanna know that, mi amor," she assured you, thinking that was the end of the conversation.

"no, but i do," you insisted, shifting in her lap to straddle more comfortably one of her muscular thighs. "tell me, mamí. what happens when the shimmer gets into your system?"

your heart was already racing and that familiar, and welcoming, heat was pooling in your lower belly. she locked eyes with you, her grey gaze meeting yours with a smirk.

"i barely feel like myself. this sort of... passion, and the urges that take me over are impossible to ignore."

sevika's touches were slowly becoming more purposeful, her human hand giving your ass a gentle squeeze.

"what urges?" you asked, your eyes practically sparkling. you hadn't even noticed the slight rocking that you were doing against her thigh. she scoffed and glanced across the room, where she kept her cross-body belt of shimmer capsules.

"d'you want me to show you, preciosa?"

you nodded immediately, and she gestured for you to bring her the shimmer. you obliged, and she took one of the capsules and inserted it into the compartment of her arm.

"this is a smaller dose, i don't wanna hurt you, baby," she said, revving up her arm to inject the shimmer into her bloodstream and through her body. her bluish-purple scarring that stretched up the left side of her neck and her face shone bright as the shimmer dispersed in her system, and you could've sworn her eyes flashed magenta.

sevika grunted and shook her head, looking intensely into your eyes. you had never wanted her to put you through the mattress more than right now.

you kissed her first and she held an iron grip on your waist, guiding your hips to grind against her thigh. her groans sounded strained and distorted, but god, it was hot. her tongue shoved its way into your mouth, tasting every inch of you that there was.

"bed. strip." she ordered, panting once you had broken away from the kiss. you wasted no time in doing what she wanted.

you were naked on the bed as she walked over to you, towering above the bed and stripping herself of her own clothes. the urgency in which she did it caused her to rip through her shirt and her pants, and it only made you throb harder. she grabbed the harness and the most impressive strap-on dildo you owned and donned it proudly. she climbed onto the bed and stood on her knees in front of you.

"is this what you wanted, mi bebé?" sevika growled, running the tip of the toy through the lips of your soaked pussy. "to see me like this? so powerful?"

you couldn't help but moan and whine at the sight of her above you, the way she pulled you closer by your ankles.

"y-ye–"

you were cut off by the sharp thrust she made, making you gasp. she stayed buried in you, her thumb reaching down to circle your needy clit.

"yeah? you wanted your mamí high off shimmer to fuck you?" she questioned, pulling out slowly then snapping her hips right back in, just as deep.

"fffuh..." you whined, your head falling back against the pillow. "yes... yesss v-vika..."

once she got the answer she was looking for, she chuckled to herself and continued to fuck you. she had never used this much force before, and the sounds of skin-to-skin had never been so loud. she had you gripping the sheets, blabbering nonsense, and drooling from the corners of your mouth.

"fff– vika, i... c-cum, i'm gonna cummm..." you whined, your words coming out like stutters from the rhythmic and unrelenting thrusts into your weeping pussy. "ple-ease..."

the stamina sevika gained while on shimmer was insane. she laughed at how you were close.

"you really wanna cum now, baby girl?" she taunted, leaning down to kiss and suck on your neck. "and ruin all the fun? hell, i ain't stoppin' 'til i can feel the bed's legs giving way."

that comment alone had you clenching tightly around the clear silicone toy. your brain felt like mush from the roughness. sevika pinched and toyed with your clit and pushed you even closer to the edge.

"i'm cumming, i-i'm cumming, ssse... sevika...!" you reached up and gripped onto her human forearm as you came harder than you have in a long time, whining out her name and several profanities as you tried to calm down. but her efforts weren't slowing down.

"when did i say this was over, mi vida?"

@sevikaweek

[stsgooo]

Haunted.

✩࿐ summary: geto had suffered enough, why should he let you go too?

warning(s): suicidal thoughts/idealizations, death, poor coping mechanisms, gn!reader, depression, isolation, description of violence, angst no comfort, curse!reader, cult leader geto things, character study vibes, not proofread (sorry). wc; 15.7k

pairing(s): geto suguru/reader, geto suguru/gojo satoru/reader (briefly), geto suguru/gojo satoru

a/n: hii, been a while since i’ve written an x reader fic so hope this abides by everyone’s standards :) as i finished this, i realized that this probably should've been multiple parts because of how long it is, but it was too far gone at that point. anyway, i hope you enjoy and if you don't i would rather not hear about it!

available to read on ao3. | divider 1

I. 2005

SUGURU WAS SURE YOU HAD A DEATH WISH.

Out of everyone, it seemed as if you had some crazy switch in you that just flipped during a battle. It was as if you got tunnel vision and your every move was erratic, death the only option. It did not matter to you whether you lived or died. Saving others was your main and only goal. That scared him to death.

You were powerful. Powerful enough where you didn’t need to go all out on every curse that even hinted at having some type of power over you or others. Yet you always found yourself in Shoko’s room, sporting one cut too many, and a bright grin as if you weren’t pushing the limit. You would wave away any and all concern with that smile.

I’m just fine, you would roll your eyes at their worry. Really, you guys, stop fussing so much.

Suguru had argued with you about it before. Both of you had been sent on a mission to some elementary school, few kids had gone missing. You found the curse, and the kids, and a fight ensued. It was nothing crazy. Not until you practically served yourself on a platter for the curse and told Suguru to run away with the kids. Of course, he didn’t leave. What kind of friend would he be if he just let you die? What kind of sorcerer would he be if he just ran away while you were torn limb by limb? He’d be a failure of a sorcerer and a failure of a friend.

It bothered him. It enraged him how easily you threw your life away for others. A hint of danger and you were willing to get yourself killed over it. The complete disregard for your life in the first year that you all knew each other irked his very soul. Your behavior was worrisome. It confused him.

The buildup to his fight with you was a lot to unpack in itself.

The car ride from the hospital the kids were at was silent. Filled with a tension that unsettled his heart and he was sure unsettled your mind. You made no attempt at small talk or passing a good job, it was just silent. He silently thanked you for it. Because he was sure if you spoke then, he would’ve blown up. He would’ve said horrible things. So he silently thanked you for your silence, your silent allowance to let him think. You even fell asleep and Suguru couldn’t help but ask himself how you could sleep so soundly after such a close brush with death.

Three days later, he could tell Satoru and Shoko noticed the tension.

He knew they noticed it the moment you two returned. Your clothes soiled, face covered in mud and blood, hands all too shaky. Maybe it was the way you walked away from his side to great them. Or it was probably the way he glared at the wavering smile on your lips as you told them everything went fine. It was most definitely that.

Shoko was weary of it. At lunch, she’d sit between him and you. Her words were light as she teased and prodded, but never dared to ask the serious questions. She kept the air free of the awkwardness or the anger brewing. Shoko was kind like that. She was optimistic.

Satoru, however, wasn’t.

Although he seemed to abide by the silent rule not to ask you questions, he was practically grilling Suguru any given moment. He asked what happened. Why was Suguru so angry? Why were you acting so standoff-ish? Had something finally happened between you? Did Suguru get rejected and was he throwing himself a pity party? There were so many things that he threw out into the open like it was silly. As if Satoru derived some entertainment from the tension.

Do you ever notice they’re ready to get themselves killed for others? Suguru had thrown out to Satoru a week after the mission.

Satoru’s eyes lost the amusement and his smile dimmed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose. Of course I have. His voice was ridiculously serious and slow, extremely distant. As if recalling something he pushed to the back of his mind often. His attention had cut back to Suguru and shook his head. Man, it’s best to leave this alone. Trust me. Sensei will say something soon enough.

Suguru couldn’t help but worry that their first year teacher’s talk wouldn’t come soon enough.

Things just didn’t make sense to him. He just didn’t understand why you would be so willing to throw yourself into death like it was a blanket on a cold night. Sure, they’re meant to save people, but it didn’t mean death. Not everything had to be final. He feared that you just didn’t know it.

All of it came to a head when all four of you were placed on a mission three weeks after.

At this point, it was apparent that you both were avoiding each other. Different topics that neither of you wanted to address made headway into your dynamic. Distanced you both from one another like it was a bubble. A shield protecting you both from uncomfortable and frankly angry conversations.

But you did it again.

Sure, this time the curse was too much. Things weren’t looking too great for them. But the moment Suguru noticed you were missing from his and Satoru’s side, he felt panicked. He knew what was coming and knew what you’d say.

You caught the curse off guard as you jumped from the top banister, your large hammer at the ready. You shouted something along the lines that they should get out of there. But Suguru nor Satoru dared to run away. He watched, in horror, as you vanished into the curse’s mouth. As he was ready to summon his small arsenal of cursed spirits, the thing was cut from the stomach. Then you got its head.

There was silence as you stood amongst the carnage. Covered in the things purple goopy blood. Then you turned to them with that smile and Suguru lost it.

“What’s wrong with you?” He yelled, his voice echoing off the walls and converging on you. You looked shocked, eyebrows raised and faltering away from the pride to the confusion. He took in a shaky breath as he felt the built up anger from the past three weeks finally come up. “Do you have to throw yourself into danger like that?”

You frowned at him, then pathetically gestured at the curse. “It’s dead, isn’t it?”

Suguru pressed his hands against his face, letting out a deeply annoyed groan. “That’s not the point! The point is you threw yourself into its mouth! Like it was nothing!” He pushed himself forward to at least close the distance a little. Despite hearing Satoru’s soft protest, he needed to look you in the eye.

Your irritation was apparent as you furrowed your brow. “It doesn’t matter! Seriously, what’s your issue lately? You’ve been a complete asshole since that mission we went on. I thought you were just feeling bad for those kids, but you’ve acted completely different towards me!” Suguru could only clench his jaw at your obliviousness. There’s no way, right? There was absolutely no way you didn’t see what you were doing to them. To him. But when you said your next words, that thought was out the window. “Okay, so I threw myself into the middle of things, but so what?”

So what? So what. So fucking what?

Suguru felt something deep within him snap. As if there was a car underwater and the glass that was keeping the passengers safe suddenly cracked. His emotions, his clear mind, were the victims of the drowning. Buried deep under your ignorance.

“So what?” He snapped, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he regarded you with unsettled rage. “So what? Are you serious? Like, are you dumb or are you just playing with me because I seriously can’t tell right now!”

You flinched at his tone and he could hear the shift of rubble behind him. “Suguru, hey—“ Satoru tried to de-escalate the situation but he was ignored.

“Excuse me?” You uttered, glaring up at him.

“Whenever we go on missions, you’re the first one throwing yourself at the thing like it isn’t serious. As if there’s not a high possibility that you’ll die! Every single time.” Suguru had a finger against your chest now. He wasn’t even sure when he had reached out, but he could feel the curse’s blood on his fingertip. It was cold and thick. Uncomfortable. But you were covered in it like it was nothing. Everything was nothing to you. “So, I’m asking you: are you dumb or just acting like you are?”

Your eyes were narrowed as you regarded him. “I know it’s dangerous, but sometimes that’s the only option.” Was all you had to say in response.

“You shouldn’t be the first one to die every time!” Suguru was desperate for his point to get across. For you to understand that it wasn’t the matter that it was dangerous— it was the fact that you were so willing and ready to have everyone live without you.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” You frowned.

Just understand I care. That if you were to die right in front of my eyes, I’d lose it. I’ve only known you for ten months, but I can’t imagine a world where you’re dead. You’re one of my best friends— the first friend I ever made, please don’t make me live longer than you. Were all the selfish things that Suguru wanted to say. That he should’ve said.

Instead, he asked, “Do you just want to die?”

There was a very long silence that kept them all from moving.

The question was posed and he could see it in your eyes. Could hear it in the words you didn’t speak. You looked away from him, shame settled on your face. Suddenly, you looked small compared to your usual large and boisterous self. Have you always been this small? Or was this something he was just realizing now?

It settled in his mind, suddenly, that he was right. His assumptions, rash and brazen, were right.

It made him queasy, lightheaded, as he stared at you.

“Y/N…” He uttered with a pale face. He desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp your shoulder— make some type of contact. But his limbs wouldn’t move. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing or blinking. His mind just repeated the one fact he knew over and over.

You wanted to die. You didn’t care if you died out there, alone, because it was all the same to you. You were waiting for death as it was waiting for you. Like an old friend. You wanted to die.

Suguru felt the overwhelming urge to cry as it all settled. “You want to die?” He couldn’t help the whisper as he stared at you in horror.

Your cheeks were a deep crimson red, tears pooling in your eyes as you took a step back from him. “It-It’s not like that.”

Suguru slowly shook his head. “Y-Yo—“ You shouldn’t feel like that. Is what he wanted to say. But what good would that do? You knew that. You probably prayed you didn’t every day.

“I just— you guys are so important to the school and-and to me! If you guys died, they’d be scrambling and a lot of people would probably suffer. But if I died, then who would even care—?”

“I would!” Suguru couldn’t help the tears that collected in his eyes. Here he was, almost 16, crying in front of you. But he needed you to know he cared. That life wouldn’t be the same without you gracing it. He reached forward, grabbing your hands in a vice like grip. “I would care! If you died I would be miserable and I would miss you like crazy. Don’t say no one would care because, if it doesn’t matter that I care, then everyone would. You’re important to everyone. You matter.”

Your eyes were on him now, wide and unsteady as you regarded him with confusion and disbelief. “Suguru—“

“We would all care. Satoru would be so annoying without your stupid quips. Shoko would be miserable if there wasn’t anyone to get her cigarettes when she forgets. And I…I would lose it if you were dead. I would. I would lose my mind, I’d do something crazy like… like leave everything behind.” It felt wrong to say. To put such weight on you, but he needed to know the role you played. How important you are. He clenched his jaw in determination, eye contact unwavering as he squeezed your hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I swear on it. I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you.”

“Better than anything I could say.” He heard Satoru utter behind them, then the tell tale yelp that came after Shoko slapped him upside the head.

You didn’t let that distract you as you fell forward into his arms. Clutching at his uniform as you let out a small cry. He held you up and listened as you dumped years worth of pain into his chest. Suguru couldn’t ever recall seeing you like this before. He never really wanted to see it again. You didn’t say anything in response to his rather embarrassing ramble to you. No, not to that.

Instead, all you said in return was, “thank you.”

II. 2006

Suguru was in love with you and Satoru.

He realized it the afternoon in Okinawa, all of you walking through the aquarium as Riko pointed out various fish that she knew too much information about. Of course, he wasn’t listening. He was much too focused on you and Satoru. The both of you had snuck away to a gift shop— proclaiming that you needed mementoes and souvenirs for your friends back home. You adorned an octopus hat while Satoru had various fish stickers pressed to his cheeks. You both more resembled children on a field trip than highly esteemed sorcerers.

Suguru loved it. He loved you both.

It was a sudden and rather scary realization.

It came over him as you placed another sticker on Satoru's face. The both of you releasing absurd laughs that had no business sounding so lovely. He could feel the small smile blossom on his own lips as Satoru argued that he'd have the "gooey stuff" all of his face later, which made you promise to help him clean it off with a rag. Then you placed a delicate kiss against his cheek. It was so nonchalant, something they should all be used to, but it was always so jarring. Satoru stared at you with wide eyes behind his glasses, then he grinned. Wide and devious.

Suguru's heart soared.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to grab both of you and kiss you like there was no tomorrow. To promise his heart and his life to you both. It would be easy. It would be mere second nature to him. Suguru may just be realizing how deeply he loved you and Satoru, but he was almost sure that he'd felt this way since month five of your first year.

Surely, it shouldn't be a surprise. You three had been getting bold lately. Shoko was even commenting on it. The late nights in your room, the both of them curled up at your side. The domesticity of one of you returning to your dorm and being greeted by the other two. You all had a routine. A promise to come back through the door and have another fight of arguing over what's for dinner. Or something obscure that he wouldn't put up with with anyone else.

He just wanted to tell you and Satoru that he finally feels normal in the world. With you both by his side. That when he has your skin pressed against his, he feels like he could take on the world. That Satoru makes him feel childish and free like he couldn't be when he was a kid. That his kisses were sweet and soft. He just wanted to tell you that he loved you.

But Suguru saw your eyes stray away from Satoru's and the smile faded away. "We have to give her a choice." You said suddenly.

Both Satoru and Suguru moved their attention to Riko. The girl was standing in front of a expansive tank, watching in amazement as the fish zoomed by. The girl unaware of their watchful eyes as she turned to Kuroi and asked her to enjoy the fish too.

Suguru and Satoru had acknowledged that you were probably the last person who should be on this mission almost immediately. It wasn't that you weren't well fit for it, or that you would be too detached, or not want to get involved— it was that you had warmed up to Riko immediately. The girl had become your shadow. She asked about your technique and how "two idiots" like them were able to be in your presence. She amused you and you amused her. Then she asked you what you thought about her merger and you told her you thought it was something you shouldn't get involved in.

But Suguru and Satoru saw it in your eyes. They knew what you thought the moment Yaga had said the word "erase".

You wanted to save her.

"I knew you'd say that." Satoru snorted, leaning back against the tank they stood before. His eyes rolled upwards to look at the dolphin swim pass across from them. "You're always meddling."

You glared at him. "I don't meddle!"

"You do." Satoru said fondly. "What did I say, Suguru? They'd meet the girl and meddle, right?"

You snapped your eyes to Suguru who shyly stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "You did say that." I did not. Suguru used kinder words— like you cared about Riko and you'd probably not want to see her throw away her barely lived life for Tengen-sama.

You pouted, picking at the railing next to Satoru. "Am I that predictable?"

"Only because we know you so well." Satoru teased with a small smile. Then his eyes cut back to Riko who was gradually making her way further down the area. As much as Satoru would deny it, Suguru could tell that he'd come to grow fond of the girl as well. "What do you propose we do, exactly?"

Now Suguru was looking back to you. He could see the shock in your eyes as they snapped up to Satoru��� as if you couldn't believe he was playing into whatever ideas you were tossing around. There was a spark of hope in your eyes and Suguru had to look away to prevent the smile that wanted to spread across his face. Instead, he'd let his heart do that weird skip it usually did whenever you and Satoru were particularly adorable.

"All I want is for her to have a choice," Your voice was compassionate as you started. The look in your eyes distant as you turned your attention towards the small tank in front of you three. The portioned tank that had different beta fishes separated. Together they're deadly. Apart, they find peace. Riko had explained. "The way she's talked about everything... the merger with Tengen-sama— that's what she was born for. She's proud of it. But given the choice, she wanted to spend her last day with her friends. She wanted to go to school and hang out with them because she knew she'd never see them again. Instead of really wanting to do this, she's just doing it because she feels like she has to. Where's the freedom in that?"

Suguru smiled softly at you. "So we give her a choice." He agreed with a small nod, finding satisfaction with the brightness in your eyes.

"We'll have to fight Tengen, you know that?" Satoru kept his eyes steady on Riko as he questioned the two of you. Both of you blink, obviously not having considered that detail. "They'll put up a fight— probably other sorcerers too. Freeing Riko might mean we leave Jujutsu High."

Suguru let his mind wander. Would he really mind if the three of you left? Not really. If the three of you have to fight Tengen-sama, then he'd gladly fight them by your side. If you both wanted, he'd destroy the world. Then gladly live his final moments with you both at his side. That was a fact that he knew to be true in his soul.

"I'll gladly do so." You answered without hesitation. Of course you would, you self sacrificial fool. A bitter part of Suguru said. There was no question that you'd put your life on the line for Riko. "If her choice is to live life, then I'll fight Tengen."

"And you'll win?" Satoru asked.

You raised an eyebrow. "We're the strongest, aren't we? Us three?"

Something about your words made Suguru 100% sure that he wouldn't allow you both to walk alone in the world. Together, there wasn't anything you three couldn't take on.

Satoru finally turned from Riko to stare at you with a self assured smirk.

Oh, Suguru thought with a stutter in his heart. He'd already made up his mind before you did.

"Well, well! I thought you were above all that we're the strongest crap!" Satoru teased, throwing his arm around your shoulders as you rolled your eyes. "Don't be so entitled, Satoru. You're making Haibara and Nanami feel less than, Satoru. You sound ignorant, Satoru. Look who's high and mighty now!"

"Oh, stop!" You pushed his arm away, but your smile was fond. You turned back to the beta fish. "Sure, it's a little entitled, but right now, I'm being nice."

"Thank you, thank you, my beloved royalty." Satoru dramatically bowed before you. You uttered something about him being dramatic, which went ignored. The white haired sorcerer reached over and slapped Suguru's arm, peeking at him fondly from behind his glasses. "Suguru, bow for your deity!"

Suguru was about to decline, until you spoke up. "You're ridiculous, you know that? Don't do that." Suddenly, he felt inclined to follow suit.

Both of them were now bowed behind you, uttering their dramatic praises as you blushed, attempting to ignore them as people walked pass and stared. Suguru peeked up at you as you watched the beta fish swim around. In that moment, he prayed that nothing changed.

Things weren't right.

Things weren't right but you were so calm.

Silently, Suguru could only shoot a thankful glance in your direction as the elevator creaked under the strain of four people. He could tell you were worried but your expression was determined to stay pieced together. Satoru was above ground, fighting against that man— Suguru couldn't think about it. It was too much in the mess of things.

The elevator came to a screeching halt and there was no hesitation on your part to push the doors open. You seemed quicker, your movements a little stilted as you exited the elevator and, instead of looking at the three behind you, you kept your gaze on the various entrances. He could tell you were irritated. He could tell you were worried. Or nervous.

No, you were scared.

His attention turned towards Riko and Kuroi who were exchanging a heartfelt, tearful goodbye. They clutched onto each other— Kuroi told her to be brave and Riko promised she would. Then they separated and Suguru promised that he'd come back once everything was done to escort Kuroi to safety.

The trek to the Star Corridor was long and quite.

There wasn't much Suguru could say to comfort you because there wasn't much he could reassure himself with. His worries for Satoru were overbearing in his mind and he couldn't try and fool himself into trying to bear the weight of your anxiety as well. Both of you knew this, so you didn't dare try to comfort one another.

There's nothing wrong. Everything's going to be okay. We're the strongest. Satoru will join us once this is over. Were the things Suguru soothed himself with.

"Is this...?" Riko uttered as they finally broke through to the outskirts of where Tengen homes themself.

"Yes," Suguru confirmed as he came to a stop beside the younger girl. "We're just outside of where Master Tengen resides. This is the country's base for primary barriers. The main hall of the tombs of the Star Corridor."

"Basically, it's their home." You said flatly, coming to Riko's other side, your eyes moving over the vast area. It was quiet, dark, and looked isolated. Nothing that brought any welcomeness for the eternity to come.

Suguru tried not to let his gaze linger on the woeful look painting your face now. He cleared his throat and pointed. "Go down the stairs and pass the gate. Then head toward the base of that huge tree. It's protected by a different barrier than the one around Jujutsu High. Only those invited may enter. You'll be protected by Master Tengen until the merger."

Riko's expression turned sorrowful as she followed the path Suguru paved with her eyes. This was the end. Her fun and the little life she lived was at its finish. She clenched her hands at her sides and made a move to continue forward, without them.

"Or we can turn back and go home to Kuroi."

Riko's eyes snapped to you. Your eyes were compassionate and a small smile graced your features that was more reassuring than any words that could be spoken. She looked a little pale, but the glow of hope suddenly appeared.

"What?" The girl uttered.

You turned to her fully, keep your expression soft. "When our taecher assigned us this mission, he used the word 'erase'. It's like, deep down, he knew something was wrong with this and, for a muscle guy, he doesn't usually beat around the bush." You looked like you wanted to chuckle at your own jab at Yaga, but didn't have the energy. Instead, you sighed. "I talked to Suguru and Satoru and we all came to the decision that if the kid who is the Star Plasma Vessel should refuse the merger then we call it off."

Riko's eyes widened even further and tears were on the cusp of falling as she stared at the both of you.

"We're the strongest," Suguru offered gently, offering a closed eyed smile to the girl. "No matter what you choose, we promise to protect your future."

Riko's lips quivered as her eyes bounced between you two and the vast nothingness of Tengen's home. She took in a shaky breath. "Ever since I was born, I've been told I'm special and different. Being special was normal for me. I've survived till now by staying away from danger... My parents died in a car crash. I don't remember it. I'm not say or lonely anymore." She started to fiddle with her hands as her words grew more unsteady. You moved to press against her side, hands rested against her shoulders. "That's why... with the merger, I thought I'd be okay... leaving everyone. No matter how painful it became, I believed that, some day, the sadness and loneliness would disappear."

"You just need the right person." You uttered to her, her eyes snapping up at you as tears silently streamed down her face. "You need that one person to prove that there's beautiful things out there— that there's kindness and love. I know. I understand, Riko."

The girl bursts into tears, a trail of snot ran from her nose as she shook with her cries. "I want to stay with everyone a bit longer!" Her voice seemed to echo around the two of you. "I want to go to more places and see more things with everyone! More!"

Both you and Suguru smiled softly. His hand reached out while you squeezed her shoulders. "Riko, let's go home." He beckoned her forward.

"Yeah!"

Suguru registered the shot last second, but it was too late for him to truly do anything.

He's never quite seen anything like it.

You were smiling, you looked free from your worries for one second.

Then you were falling. Your face slack and eyes blank. You fell against the ground with a deafening thud. Blood pooled around your head, chunks of your brain scattered across the ground. Your eyes.

They're so blank.

Suguru barely registered Riko's scream. His eyes couldn't leave you even as the girl screamed and screamed, hands clutching at her head as she stared at your body beside her.

You were just speaking a moment ago. You were smiling. How could this happen?

Your eyes are so blank.

"Y-Y/N...." Suguru uttered, eyes wide and face pale.

He felt sick. He didn't feel right. This wasn't right. Why were you on the ground? Why were you bleeding? Why can't he move? Why can't he breathe? Are you going to get up? Please get up.

Riko continued to scream. She just wouldn't stop. Her once hopeful eyes were now reduced to horror and terror as she smeared the blood covering the side of her face. None of it hers.

It's yours.

Your eyes are blank.

What are you doing? Get up. Get up. Smile. Just breathe. Get up. Please, I'll do anything. I'll listen to you ramble about those books you love so much. I'll buy you those disgusting snacks you crave. I'll do anything for you.

Please don't die.

Your eyes are blank.

"Oh," groaned a voice that rattled Suguru's soul. "I missed."

Suguru slowly turned his head to stare at the man. The one that had stabbed Satoru through the chest and had talked to him like an old friend. The one that was now standing, clutching a gun in his hand, pouting as if he was amused by his miscalculation.

As if your death was something he hadn't accounted for.

"How..." Suguru's voice doesn't feel like his own. It feels like he's out of body. As if something else is controlling him. He felt something warm on his cheek, but he couldn't reach for it. His limbs felt heavy, his hands cold. What was happening? Why did everything feel so muddled? "How'd you get here?"

Still, Riko screamed.

Still, your eyes were blank.

The man frowned. "How...?" Suddenly, he chuckled and pressed the side of the gun to his temple. "I see. I killed Gojo Satoru."

Suguru was swarmed with an unfamiliar feeling of rage. You and Satoru had once praised him for his ability to remain calm and level headed when things seemed to crumbled around all of you. He was the voice of reason— your moral compass. The map that lightened your way.

Suddenly, he felt like he was reduced to nothing but rage and this empty feeling in his chest.

Your eyes are blank.

Gojo Satoru is dead.

"I see..." Suguru growled, his eyes unmoved from the man across from him. "Then die!"

III. 2007

Suguru didn't feel right.

Although, he hadn't felt right for 11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds.

He hadn't been right since the moment you dropped dead.

Your eyes were blank.

He wasn't enough to fight against Fushiguro Toji. The man had ruthlessly downed him then killed Riko. It was like it was nothing. He came, he killed, then he left.

Suguru had laid amongst the rubble of Toji's doing and stared into your blank eyes. He still wasn't sure how long it was. He couldn't move and he could barely breathe as the blood from his chest trickled to the stone and concrete under him. Your eyes stared lifelessly into his own. Endlessly. A never-ending staring contest that he pleaded to end.

The entire time he laid on the floor of Tengen's barrier. His mind only repeated one thing.

Please get up. Please be alive. Please get up. Please get up.

Your brains had scattered across the floor and your eyes were unmoving but he spent so much time just pleading with you to snap out of it. He thought he was enough. He apologized for not being enough.

Please get up. I promised to prove it to you.

There was a point he passed out. He could remember thinking, thankfully, that he was going to die. And he swore he heard your gurgled call for him.

Then, he woke up.

Shoko had looked distraught. He could still remember the way she eyed him wearily through red rimmed eyes. Cautious as she told him that you were dead. As she told him Satoru was gone.

Gone. But not dead.

Suguru had, very briefly, rejoiced in Satoru's survival.

Shoko said she cleaned your blood off his cheek.

Suguru hated her for a while after that.

He didn't stay at the infirmary for long. Despite Shoko telling him that Yaga wanted to see him and that he shouldn't move around yet, he dragged himself away. He dragged himself to the cult. He dragged himself along the side walk with his mind flashing with images of your blank eyes.

Was that all death was? Nothingness? Did it comfort you? Did it welcome you? Was it everything you imagined?

His mind wouldn't rest.

He could remember as he entered the building. As he heard the resounding and endless applause. He mindlessly entered and was meant with a never-ending crowd, parting as they just clapped, and clapped, and clapped. It rumbled through his ears, bouncing around his brain.

Your eyes were blank.

When the crowd parted, he remembered the clench of his heart as Satoru, bloodied and blank, appeared. He carried Riko's body in his arms. Lifelessly moving forward. His eyes stared right through Suguru.

"You're late," Satoru had teased blankly. His voice distant and flat. It missed its usual punch. "No.... I guess your're early."

Suguru remembered the confusion that washed over him as he stared at the one he loved. "Satoru... is that you...?"

What happened to you?

"It looks like you saw Shoko." Satoru had sounded like he wasn't entirely aware of his surroundings. Or he didn't care. "Is Y/N there right now?"

Suguru didn't have the heart then. He could remember silently apologizing to you, but he hadn't thought Satoru could handle the news of your death amongst this room.

"Shoko fixed me up fine." His eyes had moved to Riko's limp hand and he felt sick. Her screams were still in his mind. He almost threw up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who messed up. Don't worry about it." Satoru had easily deflected.

Suguru couldn't handle the clapping. They just didn't stop. They clapped, and clapped, and clapped.

Your eyes were blank.

"Suguru," Satoru's voice had stopped him in his tracks. His voice was so detached and so odd. Suguru couldn't handle much change then. He couldn't handle hearing Satoru so different. Not then. "Do you want to kill them all?"

Suguru could remember the shock that shook his body. Could remember the bitterness that immediately followed. The realization that he would love nothing more than to unleash the worst on these people and sum their deaths up as their lives— useless.

"Suguru," He had sworn he heard your voice, distorted and all too sweet. His back stiffened and his eyes widened. "Do you hate them, Suguru?"

He did. He hated them. He wanted them all to burn. He wanted them to suffer. Suguru would've loved nothing more than to have heard all of them plead for their lives. To have the same terror that Riko had when she realized her life was coming to an end. To have that same blank look in their eyes as you had.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's pointless." Suguru had shot down emotionless. He still wasn't sure if he was answering that tiny voice in his head or Satoru, maybe it was both. Who really cared?

"Pointless, huh?" Satoru walked past Suguru and started to make his way outside. "Does there need to be a reason?"

"Of course, it's important." Suguru had easily answered. "Especially as Jujutsu Sorcerers."

11 months. 47 weeks, and five days. 8,016 hours. 480,960 minutes. 28,857,600 seconds later, he believed that was all bullshit.

It surprised him how much and how little could change in a year.

The way everyone seemingly returned to normal and he was left in the past.

Suguru felt like his life was now segregated into two sections: Before the Star Plasma Vessel assignment and after the Star Plasma Vessel assignment. Before and after you.

He realized, quickly and bitterly, that the after you was worse than the before.

Before he knew of your existence, he was happy to be alone. He embraced the fact that kids at school thought him odd, unapproachable. That they would whisper about his habits behind his back. He was happy to know that no one wanted to be around him. It meant they didn't see what he saw. He didn't know anything else.

But the after you was considerably worse.

You had given him that breath of fresh air. That love that he had unknowingly reached out for his entire life. The way you and Satoru had touched him, he didn't even know his heart ached for that type of love. He didn't know he was depraved until you showed him.

He hated it. For a moment, he hated you.

In the first weeks after your death, he felt angry. He was bitter. Even as Satoru rubbed his back in bed. Even as he told Suguru it wasn't his fault. Even as everyone told him that you would hate to see him like that. He felt a hatred. A regret.

For months, he hated you.

He'd ignore topics centered around you. He ignored the day that Shoko and Satoru cleaned out your dorm for a new first year. He was stagnant and blank at the funeral your family held. When everyone walked up to recall memories about you, he didn't. He just listened and he thought that none of them truly captured you. They said you were kind, that you were funny, that you went our of your way to help whoever needed it.

If it was Suguru up there, he would've said you were selfish. That you always put your life on the line when it wasn't needed. That you were arrogant. That you could really make him worry.

But he loved you.

That's what he hated most. Isn't that the worst?

He hated that he loved the way he missed your hugs, your reassurances. He hated that he missed worrying about you. That he wouldn't ever see you again. That he wouldn't join you on a mission and be forced to listen to Yaga or fellow students worry about your sanity. He missed that sometimes you would play into Satoru's words, like saying the three of you were strongest together.

"Hey," Satoru called from across the training yard. Suguru barely looked up. "Have you lost some weight? Are you okay?"

Satoru became "The Strongest". His abilities were starting to blossom and it allowed him to work by himself. The higher-ups sent them alone. And Suguru hadn't felt more confined in his life.

"I'm just a little tired from the summer heat." Suguru easily explained it away, his hands buried deep within his pockets. "It's not a problem."

"Maybe you had too much somen noodles?" Satoru asked, niavely.

"No," Suguru wanted to snap at him. "It's the fact I can't eat without feeling sick. I can't taste anything except the fucking vomit of the curses. I hate it. I hate it. I'm always sick. I'm so hungry. But I can't eat."

Instead, he sighed. "Maybe."

The curse population was springing up like maggots. Everywhere and all consuming. The summer had been busy and Suguru truly was tired. In his heart, he started to blame the mess of last year for the increase of curses. It was easier to blame that than nothing. It was better to put a face to his suffering rather than blame himself.

The repetitiveness of his life was becoming crushing.

An endless cycle of exorcism and consumption.

Exorcise. Consume.

You had once asked him what curses tasted like. Under a beautiful tree and a beautiful night sky. You stared at him from your place on the ground. "Suguru, what does it taste like?"

"It's a taste nobody knows." He had explained. "Like ingesting a rag used to wipe up vomit."

Exorcise. Consume.

"Oh," You had uttered, a heavy frown on your lips as you pondered on it. "I'm sorry."

Exorcise. Consume.

He didn't need your pity then. But it had been nice. It felt nice for someone to pretend they understand the disgust, the bitter tang. He pretended that it helped.

"Thanks."

Then, you asked, "Would it help if you had mints?"

No. "Yes."

That first Christmas you all spent together, you got him mints. And, despite it doing nothing, he still popped one in his mouth every time. False hope that something could push down the disgust he had for his technique, for what he was considered special for. What lengths he went to save people.

For what?

Every since that day, the day you and Riko died, it's been running through Suguru's head. That everything he saw, Toji, your blood, your brains, the never-ending applause of the cult members— it was a hideous evil known to everyone. What he saw wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Still, knowing that, he protects them as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

"We can't lose our way." You had reassured one day when the curse you and him were fighting was particularly ruthless. It had killed so many people that the both of you hadn't been the same for weeks. "Don't lose your way. We just have to follow through with our duty as sorcerers."

The thunderous applause took over that of his heart.

"Monkeys." Suguru uttered in the shower. The first time he whispered it. His eyes unmoving from the wall as the water trickled down, down, and down.

Your eyes were blank.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

His hand clenched above him. "Fucking monkeys."

He snapped the water off and robotically dried himself off.

Suguru felt like he was merely living through the motions. That he was being guided other peoples words and the wind itself. He was merely a leaf being blown away. There wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Nothing he could do to ground himself and force himself to take the wheel. To be in control. He could only watch on.

He found himself hunched over on the bench near the vending machines. He barely acknowledged the rain that poured outside. It was one of those days. Those days where the weather matched his mood and made it considerably worse. Maybe he could get away with hiding inside his dorm. Being curled on the bed and not appearing until the rain was well gone— when Satoru couldn't ask him if he's ate.

He closed his eyes in defeat. How could loneliness possibly feel worse now than it did then? He'd been alone for years before. Why was it worse now?

"Hi! Mister Geto!"

Suguru's eyes snapped open and dragged upwards. "Haibara..."

You liked Haibara. You said so on his first day. When he enthusiastically introduced himself to everyone— gave his blood type and his family history. You had laughed for twenty minuets. You said that Haibara was like a breath of fresh air. He had no idea what he was getting into and he was happy. Suguru said you were looking into it too much. You didn't agree. Then you invited both him and Nanami to join you all on a trip to Shinjuku.

You liked Haibara. He was sweet.

You liked Haibara. So did Suguru.

"Hope all is well!" Haibara continued, seemingly ignorant to the war raging on in Suguru's mind.

You liked Haibara. You trained him. He was sweet.

So did Suguru. "What can I get you to drink?" Suguru asked, pulling some change from his pockets.

"I couldn't possibly—" Haibara's eyes glanced at the vending machine then his eyes brightened. "I'll take a coke!"

Suguru couldn't help the little laugh that broke through his lips. Amusement in his eyes for the first time in a while as he gently dropped the change into the junior's cupped palm. Haibara pratically skipped over to the vending machine, dropping the coins in, and retrieved his coke.

Fully expecting him to carry on with a thanks, Suguru was a little surprised that he sat down beside him and smiled big.

"My mission tomorrow is pretty far away." The boy started, wiggling with excitement.

Suguru smiled softly. "That so? I'll be expecting a souvenir then."

"You got it! Something sweet or savory?"

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

This was the normal. It felt refreshing for everything to be so normal. A silent agreement amongst the second and third years to get everyone who asked a souvenir from their respective mission areas. It made for interesting foods or items. Silly things that he could place on his shelf or for him to take a bite and Satoru to steal the rest. Usually complaining about how no one ever gets him anything. Just like Okinawa when you picked that hat—

Your eyes were empty.

Suguru's smile faded away.

"Haibara..." He spoke, not entirely aware if his junior was speaking before he was. But Haibara's eyes moved to him with curiosity. He bowed his head once again. "Are you okay with being a Jujutsu sorcerer? Doesn't it bother you?"

Immediately, the junior took the question seriously. His chin rested between his finger and thumb, eyes narrowed in thought. "Hm... good question..." He uttered, a vague pout on his lips. "I'm not really the type to think too hard about things..."

"I don't think we should underestimate Haibara or Nanami." You had defended the two new boys against Satoru's beratement one day. Your eyes cut to where they were practicing against Yaga's cursed dolls. "We all started somewhere. I'm sure they'll surprise us one day."

"Giving my all toward something I know I can help with is a great feeling!" Haibara finally answered, snapping his fingers and looking at Suguru head on.

Suguru couldn't help the way his eyes widened. For whatever reason, his answered shocked him. It was a pure answer. Further proof that Suguru was different from everyone else. Proved that he was slowly losing a part of himself. Haibara hadn't been graced with the same tragedy he had. He didn't know the cruelty of people and was still hopeful.

"I see..." Suguru uttered, looking away once again.

"You're right." Spoke another voice that neither of them know. Both of the boys looked over to the woman that stood a few feet from them. She was tall, long blonde hair and she wore a smile on her face. "Are you Geto? What kind of girls are you into?"

Your eyes were blank.

He only stared in return.

"I like girls with healthy appetites!" Haibara answered happily.

Suguru frowned. "Haibara."

"It's fine!" He turned to Surguru with a bright light in his eyes. "She's not a bad person. I'm a pretty good judge of character!"

Suguru felt something in his chest shift.

"Do you hate them, Suguru?"

"You say that while sitting next to me?" He uttered, sparing the junior a sidelong glance.

"Of course!" Haibara didn't hesitate.

The woman laughed, resting a hand on her hip. "He was being sarcastic, kid!"

No, I'm not. Suguru almost felt compelled to say. But he didn't have the energy. There wasn't any point in arguing with this stranger either. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. Something he would happily continue to stay true.

Embarrassed, Haibara excused himself with the woman quickly taking his spot. In an instant, Suguru drew back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is he your junior? Such an honest and cute kid."

Suguru couldn't help the distasteful glare he sent from the side. "As a jujutsu, he shouldn't be so trusting." He said bitterly.

The woman looked a little discouraged by his little jab, but continued on. "And you, Geto? Are you going to answer my question?"

"Answer mine first— who are you?"

The woman raised her chin, a small smirk on her lips. "Special grade sorcerer Yuki Tsukumo. Ring a bell?"

"You're the...?"

Yes. Yes, it did. Suguru thought bitterly.

He could distinctly recall you rambling on about Tsukumo. On how you wished you could be like her. Someone highly recognized and didn't care what the higher-ups said— just lived her life. To Suguru, it sounded like Tsukumo was kind of a failure. But to you, it was as if she was a symbol of something amazing. Proof that something that was suddenly attainable to you.

Suguru had been convinced you just had a crush on her.

"Nice! The what?"

Suguru clenched his jaw at her interruption of his thoughts. "The no-good special grade who doesn't take on any missions and just bums around overseas." He informed her flatly.

The woman's smile slipped away and she pouted heavily. "I hate Jujutsu High!" She fell back, her elbows rested on the back of the bench. She sulking. "Just kidding. But I'm not lying when I say we don't see eye-to-eye. What they do here is treat symptoms. What I want is to get at the root cause."

Suguru couldn't help perking up with interest. "The root cause?" He asked slowly.

"I don't want to exorcise curses after they appear. I want a world where curses don't even exist."

He stared at her in shock. A world without curses? He felt like he could almost rejoice. His heart gave a little skip and he almost felt like things were normal.

"How about a little lesson? Tell me, what are curses anyway?"

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Curses are created when cursed energy leaks from humans. It then gathers like sediment and takes form." He answered easily. It was something taught in their first year, something everyone knows.

"Excellent," Tsukumo encouraged, nodding. "If that's the case, there are two ways to create a world where curses no longer exist: one, eradicate cursed energy from all humanity. Two, teach humans how to control their cursed energy. The first one's not a bad idea. There was a model case for it after all."

"A model case?"

"Someone you're familiar with: Zen'in Toji."

Almost instantly, Suguru felt an anger rush over him. Toji. That was someone else that he tried to avoid thinking about. Usually, it only led to thoughts darker than when he thought about you. He thought about the various things he would've done to Fushiguro if given the chance. The slow and torturous death he would've given to him if he had the chance. He doubted it would eat away the hatred in his heart, but Suguru would take anything to have him suffer as you did. As he did.

"There have been several cases where heavenly restriction has reduced a person's cursed energy to normal levels. But to eradicate one's cursed energy completely... I've searched all over the world, and he's the only one who's ever done it. But that's not the only thing that's interesting about him. Despite not having cursed energy, Zen'in Toji was able to sense curses using his five sense. By eliminating all cursed energy, his body became sharpened to the point where he developed a resistance to curses."

A part of Suguru really wanted to tell Tsukumo that he didn't care. That monster died and he was glad to hear it. Even if he was the only way to get rid of curses, he was overjoyed that the man was dead now.

"Don't feel bad about losing him." Suguru scoffed, face blank. "I wanted to research him but he blew me off. It's too bad he died."

You smiled at Riko. You held her shoulders. You were going to take her home.

Your eyes were blank.

I killed Gojo Satoru.

"Cases of heavenly restriction are few and far between. So my focus is on two." Tsukumo seemed completely unaware of Suguru's mind raging on while she spoke. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Did you know, jujutsu sorcerers don't give birth to curses?"

That snapped Suguru out of his thoughts. He slowly dragged his eyes to stare at the side of the woman's head as she carried on.

"Of course, that's excluding cases where sorcerers become curses after death—" Do you hate them, Suguru? "—The amount of cursed energy that leaks from sorcerers, compared to from non-sorcerers, is extremely low. There is a difference in how much we consume and use cursed energy because of our profession. But the real reason lies in how it flows through us. For sorcerers, it flows heavily within us. If we're talking general terms— if every single human became a jujutsu sorcerer, no curse would ever be born again."

Suguru's world as he knew it, paused.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Those people. Humans. Non-sorcerers. They created the world that killed you. They created a world where he was alone.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"Then why not just kill every non-sorcerer?" He asked softly, not daring to lift his head or eyes from between his feet.

There was a silence between the two of them that made him tense up. He said something wrong. But why didn't it feel wrong? Why didn't the suggestion disgust him or make him sweat? Why did it feel like an idea that was meant to be said?

"Geto," Tsukumo finally spoke, voice slow and calculated. "That is an option."

What?

"In fact, that might be the easiest route!"

Suguru slowly lifted his eyes from the floor and stared at the woman next to him with wide eyes. Now, he felt it. He felt the sweat on his brow. It's an option. "What?" He uttered, tilting his head to try and meet her eye as she stared into the distance. "Um..."

"Weed out non-sorcerers and make them adapt to a jujutsu sorcerer based society. In other words, forced evolution. Kinda like how birds grew wings. Using dear and danger as a catalyst."

It's an option. Suguru couldn't shake his stare. He was holding his breath and just staring at her.

"But," There it is. "I aint' that crazy."

She looked amused, but she didn't know him. She didn't know his feelings and the fact that he hated—

"Do you hate non-sorcerers, Geto?" She asked it sincerely.

Do you hate them, Suguru?

His eyes went back the floor, ashamed. "I don't know." He started with a whisper. "I used to think jujutsu sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers. But recently, I've been doubting whether non-sorcerers are worth fighting for. The preciousness of the weak. The ugliness of the weak. I can no longer tell the difference. The part of me that looks down on non-sorcerers.... the part of me that tries to resist that feeling...."

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

"If being a jujutsu sorcerer is like running a marathon, then the finish line is too unclear." Suguru placed a hand against his forehead, hairs tangled between his fingers. "I don't know what I really feel."

"It's understandable, you know?" Suguru glanced at her with a frown as she eyed him contemplatively. "You watched your friend die, right? It's never easy. Messes you up. I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

You don't.

"Death and mourning something can really conjuring some nasty things in your mind. Like killing non-sorcerers— you want to take that anger out on someone. The anger for your friend's life being taken away." She explained it like it was so easy, as if she knew his next steps when he did not. "But looking down on non-sorcerers... resisting that feeling... those are just possibilities you've thought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you still have to decide."

The conversation didn't lead to anywhere else and Suguru was feeling himself grow more tired the more he stayed away from his dorm. He was about to excuse himself when Tsukumo asked for him to follow her out. She didn't say much on the way out and Suguru was grateful for it.

The woman got on her bike and waved at him. "I'll see ya! I was hoping to say hi to Gojo as well. Bad timing, I guess." She slid her goggles on. "As fellow special grade sorcerers, let's all three of us get along, okay?"

Suguru gave her his best smile, which wasn't much. "I'll send you regards to Gojo."

Tsukumo smiled, starting up her bike. She was about to ride off when she looked back at him. "One last thing. Don't worry about what happened with the Star Plasma Vessel. Whether there was another vessel or another vessel was born— whatever happened, Tengen is stabilized."

He didn't think it possible, but his hatred grew. Tengen is stabilized.

The thunderous applause returned. The cheers as Satoru carried Riko's body through the crowd.

The deafening thud of your body as you fell lifelessly to the ground. Riko's scream as your blood painted half of her face. The way his heart echoed against his head as he stared.

You eyes were blank.

Tengen is stabilized.

Suguru bowed his head as she drove off. "I figured."

What the fuck had you died for, anyway?

Haibara was dead and he'd seen the body. The entire time Suguru thought of you.

As Nanami attempted to hold back tears, as he explained that they were caught off guard by a special grade, Suguru saw you in Haibara's place.

Both of you victims of a system created to protect people who weren't grateful. Who didn't even know you exist. People who had spared both of you not a single glance despite being so caring, so selfless. Who were they to put this unbearable burden on everyone's shoulders then act like you were different?

Haibara was sweet. You liked him. So did Suguru.

Haibara was dead. So were you. Suguru felt hatred build in him.

As he stared at Haibara's bloodied face, he had thought one thing: who would suffer for this death?

Gojo completed the mission. Gojo exorcised the curse. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo. Gojo.

Gojo.

Why should Gojo be the one wrecking havoc? When it was Suguru that was filled with rage? When he was the one that wanted nothing more than to harm the ones that caused this all?

Do you hate them, Suguru?

"What is this?" Suguru asked slowly, staring at the sight before him.

Two girls seemingly coward away from him. Their faces bloodied and bruised. The cage that contained them offered no comfort. Just the cold hard ground and the darkness. They shook under his gaze and he couldn't find it in himself to look away. He couldn't turn around and question the people behind him. He did not know what he'd do if he looked them in the eyes as they explained themselves.

"What do you mean? These two are responsible for the incident, right?" Asked one man.

Suguru clenched his jaw. "No, they are not."

"These two possess strange powers and often attack the villagers."

This was of your own creation.

"I already dealt with the cause for the incident."

"My grandchild nearly died because of these two!" Protested the elderly woman as if she realized that Suguru wasn't going to believe these two were responsible.

The blonde child leaned forward. "That was because they—"

"Shut up you monsters!"

"Your parents were the same! I knew we should've killed you when you were born!"

As the two adults berated the children, Suguru came to a decision. His heart was no longer torn in two. As he stared at the girl's, his resolution was made.

He lifted his finger and a shadowed curse sprouted. "It-It'll be okay..." The girls stared at him with wide eyes, almost relieved. If he were a different man. If he in a different mindset then, he would've cried over the relief that washed over them. "Do...Don't worry... it'll be o-okay."

He ignored how familiar the voice was, how familiar the words were. He'd grown used to finding something that wasn't there in the curses he had collected. The fact that the ones he barely manifested were the ones that sounded like you the most.

Suguru turned around to the villagers and smiled. One that he hadn't managed to conjure up in some time.

"Let's step outside for a moment, shall we?"

The two followed him out and Suguru wasn't sure what words he said, what movement he made, but he could see the horror in their eyes. As he manifested his beloved curses, the one people like them had created, he felt an anger bubble up. Emotions that he had desperately pushed aside in an attempt to continue his life were now running their way to the forefront of his mind.

The grief of losing you. The anger of the complete disregard of you life by the society as a whole. The fact that there was nothing left of you now. Nothing—

"Suguru, do you hate them?"

His body stiffened. His wide eyes dragged from the horrified, begging people before him, to over his shoulder. The shadow that loomed over him now.

He'd read about this before. It was some obscure book he found while researching previous curse manipulators. It talked about various things that he used to prove to Yaga that he was learning something. One section had piqued his interest, but it was never information that he'd use in random day-to-day. Vengeful spirits. Usually, this only happened after sorcerers die without jujutsu being used against them. Their very soul and spirit is corrupted and transformed into something horrible. Something darker than who they truly were in life.

As Suguru stared at the spirit before him now, he knew what he had inadvertently done to you. The way your large body curled around him, wisps of what should be hair floating above you, your body clad in an open and flowing kimono. What caught his eyes the most, were your own eyes. Despite being almost invisible, he was relived. They were not blank. Instead, they looked like they burned with the rage he had held back for years.

It was as if you were the extension of his very soul.

"It should be noted that if you find yourself attached to a vengeful spirit: You must establish a clear master/servant bond. As the spirit is attached to your own soul, they musn't be allowed to overcome you. If exorcism is not an option, then create a clear set of rules. Summon them only when necessary. Vengeful spirits are not to be taken lightly."

"Suguru, do you hate them?" Your eyes did not leave his.

This time, he didn't hesitate nor lie. "Yes."

He heard them whimper in fear.

You moved unnaturally, but he didn't care. "Do you want them to die, Suguru?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes."

Your hand rested on his shoulder and he didnt even care if your talon like nails dug into his flesh. He watched, awestruck, as you turned your feral gaze onto the cowering villagers. "Can I hurt them for you, Suguru?"

Despite your state, despite what it meant for him, he couldn't help but feel the warmth blossom through his chest. He basked in the feeling of your brushed against his shoulder.

"Yes."

An unnatural smile creeped over your face and your shot forward, now clutching your katana.

All Suguru could think was: you're back.

"Suguru....what have you done?"

Geto adjusted his gojogesa with a emotionless mask over his face. The bags that had adorned his eyes for the past year were mostly gone. He was finally able to eat. His mind wasn't constantly ringing with that thunderous applause or the thud of your body. Instead, he was free. There was silence.

Except whenever you spoke.

"Where did you get that energy? Suguru, answer me!"

He had seen Gojo a week ago. He had said his goodbyes, vaguely masked as threat. Geto knew what they were now. Enemies by default. He knew it couldn't be long before the higher-ups found out about the village— known exactly what he'd become that night. He was a curse user.

God, was that a great feeling.

Geto was giddy that night. He couldn't help the giddiness he felt with his freedom. The happiness he felt as he held Nanako and Mimiko in his arms, trekking through the woods to the main street where he dragged them to his parent's house. That whole situation had been something in itself. Their anger, their confusion, the heartbreak for not understanding their son anymore.

Geto had simply taken what he needed for the twins, then left you to take care of his parents.

"You feel it, don't you, Gojo? You see them."

There was an assortment of things that Geto found himself doing after he defected. He suddenly found himself in the place of taking care of two twin girls that clung to his clothes and followed his every word like he was the Buddha guiding them towards enlightenment. There big eyes screamed the thank you's that he did not need or would accept. Still, he could tell that they were trying to prove that they were useful to him. Whatever that meant coming from a pair of 6 year olds.

The second thing he'd started was taking over the Star Plasma Religious Group. Although he heard they had disbanded a year prior, it appeared that they were just absorbed by another money hungry fool scamming them for every last cent they had. Not that he was about to go bad mouthing other people's methods for something he was about to do himself. It was surprisingly easy to take over a religious group when you had a vengeful spirit hanging off of you. The men, although easy to get on his side, he still killed. There was no point to their existence now. Not when he had his own plans outside from worshipping the likes of Tengen.

The last thing he was taking care of was you.

"....What did you do?"

"Nothing. I did nothing. They're was always with me."

Geto's adventure back into the books covering vengeful spirits was actually welcomed this time around. As a younger student, he hadn't really cared to think about what would happen to him if he happened to die in a terribly normal way. But now it was something he regarded with the utmost fascination. The different descriptions of vengeful spirits made him ponder exactly what you were.

Violent and seeking revenge. Sad and lost. Unaware they're dead and seeking guidance. Plague that spreads death, leeching off certain hosts. Clingy, they seek approval from the attached for their actions. These spirits had a connection with the host in their life and feel something unfinished in their death.

He could remember the look in Gojo's eyes as his eyes strained to look over Geto's shoulder. The fear and the realization that washed over him. The anger in his eyes as he seemed to grieve over not only Suguru, but you as well. The waver in his voice as he asked Geto what he had done. It almost made Geto feel bad.

Almost.

Gojo had his life laid out for himself. The higher-ups knew what they could do with him. He was practically bred and born for his role amongst everything. He'd live and die the jujutsu society. Something that always unsettled Suguru, but something Geto accepted. He came second. Last compared to jujutsu.

At least he had you. It was you and him first. Then Gojo. He could make this work again. He wouldn't let anything happen to you again.

Geto shifted his attention elsewhere as he flattened his robes.

God, he really did look the part now, didn't he? Except, maybe, the hair. But he wasn't doing anything about it.

"This place is still a religious group to the public, are you okay with that?" Asked one of the nameless faces that Geto would encounter in his life.

He over looked the stage before him with a flat expression. "As long as I can collect curses and money, that's all right." He reassured.

The man frowned, looking at Geto with some vague confusion. "Are you really going out there like that?"

He let a grin spread across his lips. "Why not? Bluffing and looking the part is important."

"Master Geto..."

He spared the twins a soft glance, a reassuring smile gracing his features. He reached down and ruffled their hair gently. "Be sure to watch closely." He whispered to them, watching with a warmth in his heart as they smiled and giggled at one another. "Have they gathered?"

"Directors, representatives. The chairman. And a lot more money waiting."

Geto grinned, taking the microphone from the man, and making his way out onto the stage.

The last time he'd been in the building they were giving a thunderous applause for Riko's death and, by extension, yours. He had been waiting a year to see them all again. To look them in the eyes and find a proper way to make them suffer. To make them feel the same fear or suffering that you and Riko had in your last moments.

"Can everyone hear me? Thank you for waiting, I'll keep this short." He announced as he came to a stop before them all. Nameless faces, judgmental side eyes, questionable whispers to one another. They did not remember Suguru. But he would make sure they remembered Geto. "As of this moment, this group is mine. We'll have a new name as well. You all will obey me."

Instantly, there was a scattered rise of opposition in the crowd.

Geto's grin faltered as he listened to the various questions of exactly who was he made their way to him. He could hear the anger and the confusion. His frustration heightened.

"Well, isn't that a shame." He dragged a hand over his face, eyes grazing the crowd before he grinned one more. He tried to look as inviting as he could, waving a hand at one man in particular. "Mister Sonoda! Could you please come up to the stage? Yes, that's right, you!"

As the older man stood from his seat and hobbled his way up, Geto narrowed his eyes. Despite his smile, his eyes couldn't hide the contempt and the hatred he had for the man before him. He could see that he noticed in the way he faltered on the steps. But pushed through and stood by Geto's eyes.

He made eye contact with Sonoda, then— "Y/N."

He found it easy to summon you. To watch you tear away at the man who had so brazenly ordered Riko's death. To listen to the garbled expressions of hatred you exclaimed as you tore his enemies limb-by-limb. It felt like it was some form a justice. To finally see the horror in their eyes, the blankness of it all. Bittersweet for him to watch.

However, he couldn't stand there and watch you in awe forever. He had people to take under his control.

Geto turned his attention back to the crowd. Satisfaction grew in his chest as he saw the horror and shock fall over their faces. Easily, Geto threw the microphone away.

"Now then, let's try this again." He scowled at the crowd, feeling you loom over his shoulder once again. He used his thumb to brush away some of the blood. "Obey me, monkeys."

III. 2015

"Are you mad at me, Suguru?"

Things had been going smoothly for Geto in the past eight years.

The cult, because that's what he considered it, was running finely. Those who owed money, gave it to him, or else. Those who followed, followed with loyalty, or else. Those who served no purpose, were dealt with. He had created a normal amongst the congregation. A standard that he himself had wanted to watch them scramble to keep. A constant state of panic or devotion for them that fed into his, honestly, growing ego.

Things like his family kept him rather humble.

The girls had grown accustomed to their lives with Geto. They seemed to thrive and love under his care. All of them had grown to a routine that they cherished with one another. They even seemed accustomed to you. The fear and confusion of others wasn't found in their eyes or hearts. Geto never properly explained what happened after death if certain things didn't take place, but they understood anyone. They knew you were important to him— by extension making you important to them.

The other members of the family— Laure, Miguel, Manami, Toshihisa— had a vague understanding of exactly what a vengeful spirit entailed. Although, they weren't jumping at the opportunity to really talk about it. Laure had attempted once, but the conversation died out quickly due to the look on Geto's face. The man was quick to drop the topic once he saw the expression painting the leader's face. Allegedly, he looked ready to kill.

Earlier that day, though, Miguel was braver. And Geto was in a far clearer mood.

"How did it happen?" The man's deep voice asked gently from where he sat across from Geto. Once the confusion set in of his sudden question, he raised an eyebrow at the apparent shadow rested behind his chair. "How did they get cursed?"

Geto himself had thought about it for years. He wondered what point you had been damned blessed to be attached to his soul even after death. It took him a long time. In the mix of things, death and decay, the sharp turn of his ideals— he had barely any time to really think about what made you this spirit clinging onto his life.

Some books said that it could be the connection shared by the host and spirit before death. Others said that hosts had the ability to curse the spirit themselves. That their desperation and their inability to let go was the true reason that sorcerers would live on as something horrible. Something completely opposite as to who they were in life.

He had pushed the thoughts away before they could ever really come to fruition. The possibility that he had been the one to create you into this. The thought alone was enough to twist his stomach. So instead he ignored it. He lived in blissful ignorance.

"Just happens sometimes after death." Geto answered flatly, turning his attention back to his book. He knew there was curiosity amongst his family to know things about you. Afterall, you were considered a part of the family, but there was simply no room to have conversation with you. You either grew hostile or confused and sought Geto out for answers. "Sorcerers whenever they're killed by a non-curse way or something another.

"Hm," Miguel's hum had remained unconvinced as his eyes trailed back to you. As your fingers hovered over the corner of the seat, but you didn't peek out. "There was a couple in my village back home. They were considered the ideal relationship at the time— I was a kid and thought so too. They were kind people. I always enjoyed getting special treatment from the wife, she was like a mother. She was one of the only other people I ever met in my home country that could see curses. Everything was good. But then her husband went and died from sickness. There was something different from the moment she died. She went a little crazy and one day she went and got real angry. Then— boom, there's her husband. But he was different. He was like yours."

Geto hadn't really known what to make of that rather non-sensical story at the time. He had just stared at Miguel before nodding slowly in return. "That's tragic." He wasn't interested in the possibilities.

"Nanako told me it was hard on you when they died." Miguel carried on as if he hadn't very visibly paused for Geto to speak his heart out. "Said that you said it was the reason you're the way you are now."

There was moments where Geto felt frustration with the twins. Their willingness to be so open with the family. Their ability to talk about their emotions so easily. The fact that they couldn't keep a secret for their lives.

The conversation about you had come up when the house was particularly restless and they were morbidly curious. They asked what you were like alive. What he was like as a kid. What the both of you were like in high school. How did you die.

He had looked off distantly and recalled the details— although he left out the gorey, unlikeable parts. He left in the parts where he was sad, that he had a hard time. He explained it in a way that kids like them could understand and use later to make sure they didn't end up the same way. Isolated and full of hatred.

Then, he made the mistake of mentioning Gojo. Their questions fell on deaf ears as he wished them goodnight and tried to drown out the memories of his youth.

"Don't get on her case about it. She's was just curious what certain things meant." Miguel must've taken his silence as anger because he stared at Geto with pleasantly narrowed eyes. "Have you ever considered exactly what happened to them?"

The question wasn't hostile or had any nefarious undertones.

He might as well had threatened Geto though.

Your eyes were blank.

"Please get up."

Geto had quickly excused himself, claiming that he needed to head to bed. He didn't miss the disappointment in Miguel's eyes or the fact that he had tensed up as you drew closer. He didn't want to think about it. What had taken place before, during, and after your death. He didn't need the questions—

"Please get up."

Tonight he couldn't escape it.

Eight years worth of questions and mystery filled his mind. The things he didn't dare address or ponder upon.

Sitting against his headboard, staring blankly into the darkness, he knew exactly how things ended up like this.

Him, a pathetic boy, staring into your lifeless eyes— he had begged for you to be alive. He had laid there with tears in his eyes, a pain in his chest, and a wavering plead breaking from his lips. Before he had fallen unconscious, he reached out his hand.

He reached out his hand.

Your eyes were blank.

Geto knew that he had cursed you. That his pleads and desperately attempt at touching you one last time had somehow damned you. He didn't need to know how it worked. He just knew that it was his fault.

The disgust in Gojo's eyes, the heartbreak, the shock. It was all things Geto deserved. For he had robbed you of the eternal rest you deserved.

The tears collected in his eyes and, for the first time in eight years, he felt a heavy bought of regret press against his chest.

He's known you longer dead than you were alive. Two years of his life had ruled onto the next eight. He had let his grief blind him. He was desperate to not let you go. To keep up some illusion in his head that he would be able to keep you there. To not let you fade away.

Selfish. He'd never been selfish before your death.

"Suguru?"

Your voice, distorted and garbled, was not something that he wanted to hear in that moment. Whatever reason, you were beside the bed now, head rested against your arms. He barely spared you a glance as the tears spilled over.

Selfish. Here you were now. Some weird sense in you to come out and comfort him. He had done this to you. An eternity to comfort him.

Selfish.

"Suguru, are you angry?" You sounded concerned, an odd sound that it didn't seem to fit you now.

Geto clenched his jaw, flexing his fingers. "Only at myself." He uttered.

You inched forward on the bed, a heavy frown spread across your face. "Why are you angry at yourself?"

He finally dragged his eyes to you, lids heavy and face almost as lifeless as your own. "I cursed you." He said it quietly but it felt extremely loud in his empty room. He looked for any realization in your eyes, any type of anger directed at him, but there was nothing. You just stared in return. You should be enraged. "I cursed you. Don't you understand what that means?"

Still, you didn't look angry.

"You saved me—"

"No, no, I didn't." Geto interrupted, closing his eyes in mild irritation. "I didn't... save you. I cursed you. I-I cursed you to stay by my side as I kill. As I kill in your name, you should be angry, Y/N."

“But… they’ve hurt you.” You say it with such confusion and sincerity that it makes him sick.

It’s then that he realizes what this all meant.

If you were alive now, you would look at him with all the rage in the world. You would damn him. You would be disgusted. If you were alive you would probably try to get him to see it all differently. You would tell him that staying with Gojo would’ve been better than this isolation, than this constant feeling in his chest. You would’ve known better than him.

It was then that he realized that he still blamed you for a lot. He wasn’t sure if things would be the same if just Riko died. Or maybe if you all had lived. Would he still be drawn to the same fate only later? Sometimes he was hopeful that he would be the same. Other times he wished he didn’t. All of it led to one thing: his anger for you.

There were some nights he would stay up and think about what you would do in his position. You would forgive them, try to use death as a chance to grow. You were much kinder than him. Or maybe you would be driven insane. None of you had quite tasted death until that mission. You probably would’ve handled things much differently than him if you had seen where Haibara ended up.

Bitterly, Geto thought, you probably would’ve given up.

Your sadness was always prone to taking you down. To whisper those forbidden and nasty things to you until you just wanted to bleed. You admitted to him and Gojo once that you didn’t even think you would make it to high school once. It scared them both, but you always got back up.

Yeah, you wouldn’t handle the sadness.

With a clenched jaw, Geto reached out and held your face. “I made you into this. You only kill and feel that way because that’s how I feel. Doesn’t that make you angry? Don’t you hate me?” He so desperately wanted you to see it from his point of view. He wanted the logic of it all to hit your brain and for you to finally finish what Toji and Gojo couldn’t— properly kill him.

However, just as you were in life, you would never take his life.

“I don’t care about those things.” You uttered in that distorted voice, those eyes of yours filled with emotions that he couldn’t hand pick. “Have I done something to upset you, Suguru?”

"No." Geto answered without hesitation. He pinched his eyes closed and took a deep breath. "I just want you to understand what this is."

He could feel your nail ghost over his thigh. "I understand."

Geto didn't believe you did, but he didn't have the energy to fight you. Not anymore. A part of him would always long to have a good long argument with you. But now it felt different. It felt as if it were all fabricated.

You were too agreeable now.

Please don't die. Please don't leave me.

But he supposed this was his punishment now. For being so desperate.

He rested his hand on top of your head. "Thanks for listening, I guess."

He can deal with the guilt later.

IV. 2017

Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

At least, a part of him was aware that death with a very high likely once he looked Gojo Satoru in the eye and declared war. Maybe even before that as he overlooked the mess of blood and limbs Rika had left behind at the elementary.

Either way, Geto Suguru knew this would happen.

"Hey," You had spoke one day as the three of them lounge in the courtyard. You had your uniform jacket open and your hair loose from the headband you wore to keep it out of your face. A good memory if it weren't for your next question. "Is it good to live a dishonorable life and have a honorable death, or a honorable life with a dishonorable death?"

"Huh? Why would you ask that now?" Satoru had pouted.

You had shrugged. "I mean, Yaga-sensei says that to be a sorcerer we'll have to live with our regrets, but he never talks about honor."

Satoru, in true fashion, rolled his eyes at you before taking a large bite out of his sandwich. "Because it's a bunch of self righteous mumbo-jumbo." He had said through a mouth full.

"Whatever." Your eyes dragged to Suguru. Your face had blossomed into a soft smile. "What do you think, Suguru?"

Suguru had frowned, biting on his lower lip as he thought. "I think what we all consider honorable varies. At the end of the day, you'll have to look back on your life yourself and decide whether you lived it worth wild." As you and Satoru stared at him with raised eyebrows, he shyly shrugged. "Don't worry about how honorable or dishonorable you'll be to others— just live a life that'll make you happy."

While you stared at him with someone akin to awe, Satoru stared blankly at him before bowing. "Truly inspirational, Suguru-sama, please invoke more of your wisdom on us!"

You had defended Suguru fervently as Satoru crowed against your assault. Then, he had been unwavering in his beliefs.

Now, Geto Suguru, stumbling down the ally with a missing arm, knew that all was bullshit.

There was nothing honorable or dishonorable about death. It was all a matter how people viewed you at the time. No one would be truly satisfied with their death because there would be a long list of things they wished they had done or hadn't done in their life.

As Yaga had said, they would all die with regrets.

His plans to obtain Rika had been rooted from a place of pure selfishness. His need to find alternative needs that didn't include using you in the most indescribable and unforgiveable way. He knew, deep down, that if he had used you the way that he planed to use Rika's powers— he would never forgive himself.

He hadn't even wanted to use you against Okkotsu Yuta. But that kid was something else. Most definitely a protege of Gojo Satoru. He could recall the caught off guard look on Okkotsu's face once you appeared. The confusion and the shock that overtook him as you wrapped yourself around Geto Suguru. He had uttered something that made the man falter.

"You're like me?"

There were so many things something that could mean.

You're like me: you're cursed with a love by your side, permanently protecting you against things that you didn't think were dangerous.

You're like me: someone had died so close to you that couldn't quite detach themselves from your soul.

You're like me: you cursed another because you couldn't accept that death was final?

Yes, Geto Suguru bitterly thought as his drive to kill Okkotsu grew. I did.

Now, Geto Suguru couldn't even feel you brewing with his soul. He didn't even think there'd be a difference if you ever left him. But there was this odd sense of loneliness deep within him that made him sick (definitely had nothing to do with the intense blood loss). His stomach churned as his mind silently cried out for you.

Was this true death? Nothing left to hold onto, just the memories and emptiness?

You're like me: you can't live without them.

Geto Suguru fell against the wall of the alley with a bitter scoff. Of course he couldn't. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, he spent the last 10 years attach his very life and soul around you. Tried to act like a big boy whenever he was asked what he would do if he was freed from this curse.

He didn't even get to say goodbye.

Your eyes were blank.

"You finally made it," Geto Suguru snorted as he shifted his eyes over to the looming figure feet from him. "Satoru."

There was something so jarring seeing him now.

Compared to when he arrived a month prior, Gojo Satoru lacked those bandages around his eyes. Those blinding and once comforting pair of sky blues were staring into his very soul blankly. Did he realize that he wasn't coming to say goodbye to you? To free you from a monster like Geto Suguru? That he had actually used you in a last ditch effort to obtain Rika?

He was sure he was aware now.

"You'll be the one to take me down, huh?" He kept a hold on his shoulder as he dragged his eyes away from Gojo Satoru to avoid the unbearable guilt that overcame him. Years of regret and what if's overtaking his mind. "How's my family?"

As long as Nanako and Mimiko were safe, he could die without regret.

"They all got away. Kyoto was your doing too, wasn't it?" Gojo Satoru's voice was as telling as it was 10 years ago. As saddened and angered as the day he had walked away from it all.

"Yeah, unlike you, I'm a kind person. You sent those two here knowing I'd defeat them.... just so you could trigger Okkotsu's growth." He had been thinking about it since the moment Okkotsu's eyes had darkened. The unbearable grief that took over the boy as he eyed his unmoving and bloody friends.

Your eyes were blank.

"It's called trust. People with beliefs like yours wouldn't kill a young sorcerer without reason."

Geto Suguru laughed. "Trust, huh?" He couldn't help the amusement flow through him. After all these years... "I didn't realize you still felt any connection with me."

His counterpart responded with a scoff. "Suguru." It was said with the weight of a thousand lonely days— as if Satoru had thought the same. As if nothing had changed. The man clenched his jaw, ducking his eyes from view as he spoke once again: "Any last words?"

Geto Suguru drew in a heavy breath, things were really getting hazy now— almost feather light. "No matter what, I'll always hate those monkeys." His words were said with the disdain and hatred of the past ten years. Then he thought about where he was 10 years ago. The grief and the isolation that overtook him. He grew quiet. "But it's not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu High. It's just that in this world... I couldn't wear a heartfelt smile."

Satoru stood there in silence. Seeming to take in the words carefully.

"Anything else?" He uttered.

Suguru frowned, ducking his head. There was one thing he had been thinking about for the past two years that grappled him in the most unnerving ways. "Do you think they'll forgive me?" His question was soft and barely there— he was barely there himself anyway.

Satoru scoffed, except it sounded more fond than before. "They were always too forgiving of us. If you're worried about your purgatory being apologizing to them for eternity, then you're fine— it'd be too easy anyway." He joked softly, except his blank expression didn't quite add to the comfort or joke of it all.

I'd spend the rest of time apologizing. Suguru fought the urge to say.

"I figured."

"Suguru," Satoru took attentive steps forward, crouching down to his level. Their eyes met and there was something almost tangiable in that gaze of his. "I love you. I forgive you."

Suguru couldn't help the shock that flushed over his body. As the pain seemed to leave him completely, he used the last bits of his strength to show Satoru a true smile. The only one he could really conjure.

"You could at least curse me at the end."

As Satoru stared at him, as Yuta Okkotsu celebrated with his friends the victory and their safety, and as Suguru took his last breaths, his eyes trailed over Satoru's shoulder.

You stared back with a kind smile. Looking more alive than you had in the past ten years, you wore the clothes you had the day you died, your normal boring uniform. Suguru hated to admit he missed seeing those terrible uniforms.

"Suguru."

[honestsycrets]

playing house | single parent au: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader

❛ pairing | mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader; single parents au

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love.

❛ tags | explicit, mechanic!miguel, first grade teacher!reader, some mention of hurt, heavy themes of voyeurism (both ways), single parents, unhygienic sxconditions, Spanish not translated, very domestic fic, f!reader, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❛ request fulfilled | Miguel is a single dad, Reader is his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and he is both very obviously crushing on her and very reluctant to say it. Fortunately, his daughter isn't! "Did you know my papi likes you?" Cue flustered Miguel. + BROOOO mechanic!miguel is hot please tell

❛ sy's notes | flashback to that one time a car fell on my tio. 😅

The job was a simple part replacement. A fizzled-out chunk of metal that would cost any single mother more in labor and puff costs at any mechanic shop. But not with Miguel, who was known around the barrio for his begrudging care. He’d do any job Lyla brought to him for any madre around who needed him.

He wrung his hands out on his stained top and lifted his head out of the hood of an old but faithful car. After a click and a lock, he turned his eyes toward the dusty cover. Syncopated beats trill from a radio ring background static that he’s long since zoned out to focus on his work. He wiped his forehead and looked at the trampled grass underneath a cheap plastic pool.

“Gabriella, bring me the manguera,” he called out to his little girl, who looked at the hose in her little pool bobbing with poppy bright toys. The older she got, the worse her loneliness became. Not due to any ill-doing of Miguel who always tried his best to be present. For some reason, Miguel couldn’t bring himself to date in anything but short bursts.

“Papi, look across the street. New neighbors!” Gabriella cooed delightfully. She splashed out of the pool with the long emerald green hose in hand, bobbing over on her long skinny legs. “It’s a girl. A pretty girl! And she’s looking right at you!”

Like that was a new occurrence. Miguel turned his hand over his sun-bright daughter’s short, sodden braids that whipped just over her shoulder. She stood in place, bouncing delightfully over newcomers. There were many viejitos in the cul-de-sac, but not enough kids.

“¿Y qué, mi vida?” he asked her. His hand shipped free from her hair. “She’s probably taking in the barrio.”

“I think she is! You!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder only to find your prying eyes eating him up from across the street. You speak to a pair of movers-- but your eyes slipped away from theirs, where he stood with his little girl. The hose dumped water onto the street. Water that he’d usually be extra concerned about wasting. Today, he was more interested in a game.

His dirty white t-shirt is matted to his back, soaked in the sweat of the day. He gripped the bottom of his t-shirt on either side and tugged it over his head. It pulls on his well-corded arms, protesting its release from his body. Miguel slipped it over his shoulder and proceeded to release bits of sweat from his thick hair. An adorable gasp fell free from your lips, replaced by your hand over your lush lips, snapping back to attention.

“You’re right, Gabi.”

He took the sputtering hose from her and cracked a begrudging smile. Gabriella waved eagerly-- and to his surprise, you waved back. If it wasn’t the hot sun beating down your face, it was the embarrassment on your face. You settled the sunglasses on the cute crook of your nose. With that, Gabriella helps him wash the car until her most hated part, drying it with old towels and bits of Miguel’s ripped old shirts.

“Hola!”

“Coño,” Miguel cursed in surprise, turning around to face you. In your hand was a clear plastic bag stuffed full of the filled corn husks, warmth steamed its sides. Miguel glanced down at the bag in your comparatively soft hands, drawing his sweaty shirt over his cut muscles to wipe away the sweat that slicked his dusky skin.

“I brought you and your lindita tamales.”

“Tamales!” Gabriella cooed, her hands cradling a limonada. They made it together, like clockwork every Sunday. “I love tamales!”

“Don’t old neighbors bring new one’s food?” Miguel bit out, a bit annoyed. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate food, it would save him countless bright-ass early meals dragging himself out of bed to make Gabriella something with school right around the corner. He’s annoyed at that star-bright smile you have whipped across your face. It stirred excitement he thought he killed a long time ago. “Or are you just a show-off?”

“I teach first grade at the school across the street,” you ignored his snark and looked none the more bothered by it. There’s some magic in a woman that didn’t feed into his shit. You provided Miguel with a name that felt familiar to all the orientation packets he received just this week. “Ya tú sabes, umm, at Carillo’s.”

Of course.

“That’s where I go!” Gabriella beams. “I’m Gabriella O’Hara and I’m going to be in first grade, right papi? This is my papi. His name is Miguel.”

Damn it all. Miguel slaps his sweaty shirt on the top of the car. You kneel down, offering her up the tamales instead of Miguel. He blinks through his sudden irritation, realizing that he’s fucked now. Gabriella grabs the plastic bag, giggling delightfully over them.

“Then maybe you’ll be in my class, Miss O’Hara.”

When he checks her orientation paperwork-- there it is. He suddenly felt the pressure of the ordeal, of the pretty next-door neighbor who wore flowy dresses and apparently, loved muscles. His eye darted out to the window, the movers zipping off in a whir of color, leaving you just there, spinning around in the driveway of your new home, nearly too sun-bright.

Maybe it’s tied to being a father, but Miguel notices little things you do. Some are ineffectual. Others are dangerous. You leave your bedroom window wide open as you change. Miguel sat outside on Gabriella’s swing on his second cup of coffee for the day when he noticed it for the first time.

You come in from your shower and scurry about your room nearly naked. Then, cupping your breasts between your hands, you whirled around for a set of underwear. From this far, he can’t quite make out the color. It might be red. Not a poppy red, but a deep, soothing red he recognizes from his dead wife’s wardrobe.

He wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t just change in the bathroom, but in any case, it was… dangerous. Any freak walking by could see you changing. Mimi’s room had very well-used blinds and yours did not. He turns his attention back to the newspaper on his lap. Nueva York stalker confesses to stabbing murder in five-year-old cold case. He scrunched his nose at the news and drank a coffee that had long since gone cold.

Sometime later, your front door swung open. Mimi busted through, a little girl with long black twists and black eyes that held a similar excitement for the weekend. It was her papi time. Gabriella doesn’t have that luxury, two homes full of warmth. Just one, with a papi who loved her more than life itself. Miguel hopes it’s enough. He left his newspaper on the bench as you settled her in the car, making his jog across the street.

“You should buy blinds,” Miguel said the second you shut the door. You jumped, your hand on the locket on your chest.

“Ay dios, it’s just you. You shouldn’t walk up on a woman like that, Miguel,” you laughed. “Especially not a single mother.”

“You’re painfully oblivious. Buy some blinds for your room. It isn’t safe.”

Dry as his tone was, it was laced with concern. If there was no one in your life to tell you what he thought was obvious, he would. “You saw me? How much did you... see?”

He responds with a dull stare, his gaze falling to the red strap of your bra that set slightly off-kilter along your slight shoulders. You sucked in a breath to calm yourself, your heart beating at a rapid pace behind your modest shirt. You reached up to hide the strap. A frown marred his contrite features.

“You look beautiful in red,” he found himself muttering, pushing off of the back of the car without another word. He beat himself up for that-- stupid, stupid response. Because of course you know you look gorgeous. He didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Gracias, papi,” you called after him.

He hoped he was not flung into the creep category after that winning display.

You bought blinds for your window and a swing for Mimi’s new, sturdy tree. Its long arms offer some reprieve from the heat, casting a shadow on the small house. It wasn't long before you spent days on heaps of homework from the kids and a glitter-bright pen to grade spelling tests.

It's nice to have a little bit of company as he works on cars and yard work, even if you watch him like a voyeur, blushing if he notices, gasping if he plays into this new little game. At some point, he voided his shirts altogether. It’s not long before Gabriella has a game of her own to play.

“Psst, Lyla. Vente, Lyla.”

Gabriella sits boredly in the shop after school. Sometimes in his office, other times in the shop during breaks. One of his technicians, Lyla, sat on an upside-down bucket by Miguel’s side as he worked on a car. This time, it was a stupid simple fix. The idiot ripped off their bumper parking too far on a curb. Lyla sat in gold coveralls, undoubtedly grinning behind that black mask slapped across her face. He didn’t need to look away from the clips he was applying to know they were both up to shit.

“Yeah?”

“Papi has a crush on my teacher. I think she could be my new mami. If--”

“Miguel has a crush?” His other tech, Peter chirped up with a hunk of sandwich in his fingertips. How was he always slacking off and eating? Miguel didn't know, but he was. “I can't believe it. He hasn’t had a crush since Tem--”

“I don’t have a crush,” Miguel responded. “Less scheming, more homework, kid. She told me you’re behind on schoolwork.”

She does so well on spelling tests, Miguel, you told him at parent-teacher conferences. But she never turns in homework.

Gabriella was not behind because she was stupid. She was behind because she was a stubborn little child who, Miguel knew, was trying to set him up. Lyla abandoned the bucket to walk over near Gabriella’s unicorn table, pulling out a microsized table and looking down at the stupid simple homework. Single-digit numbers were a painful waste of time to a kid who loved math.

“She’s single?”

“Yup,” Gabi chirped, scratching away at her coloring page with a fat purple crayon. “Mimi told me.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. I double-checked. And get this, she said she would come help me with homework.”

“Lyla.” Miguel shoved the opposite end of the bumper in place, securing it carefully. Lyla was bent down by Gabriella. So Papi has more time to see her! Gabriella whispered. He may not know what you’re saying, but he knows it’s bad by the way she looks at him. As though she were a cat might with a glass it was about to shatter on the floor. “You can go home now.”

His daughter doesn’t need any more of her devilish attributes.

“You fucked it alright, mujer. What did you hit?”

Miguel twisted a bit of the sidewall between his fingers to gauge the depth of the hole. Never mind that the back passenger wheel whistled away until it ran flat. It wasn’t the first time someone brought him a car that was fucked. It was the first time you had.

You never asked him for anything, not at the price of your pride. You simply… made it work. Just like Miguel made childcare work by leaving his shop to pick Gabriella up and leaving her bored as fuck every weekday until he could close up shop.

Today, Mimi and Gabriella were inside, playing with dolls after a warm dinner of arroz blanco and fatty pork chops. He wasn’t much a fan of your sickly sweet platano, but he tried it tonight after Gabriella hounded him. Don’t be rude, papi! He’s gotten used to coming home on Wednesday to dinner. It’s something that he realizes he’s missed: having someone to come home to.

“A pothole,” you murmured shyly. His forehead rippled into wrinkles, holding the chunk of broken-off rubber between his fingertips. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his dark eyes, minding the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

“A pothole,” he repeated after you. No matter how many times he considered it, it did not fit. His body was ripe with aggravated energy. He’s too tired for this. The shit he’d seen in his shop and you expected him to believe that you hit-- a pothole? “Qué mierda.”

Miguel set his hands on his hip, rolled on his heel, and stepped back to inspect his future work. His body thrummed, a tightness pulling with the sight of your shy smile. The truth tittered on your luscious little lips.

“I may or may not have hit those rocks by Doña Díaz’s casita.” One look around the street revealed the chunky, pointy rocks you referenced. Miguel flicked the bit of rubber onto the top of the car and looked at you. You were guilty as the day was long. “They weren’t that far off the curb before! I know that it’s bad. Do you think you could-- fix it?”

“You’re going to have to replace those two,” Miguel gestured. “What, did you not see the massive rocks on the side of the road? What were you doing? Eres una mama, you have to pay attention, por dios. You could have been hurt.”

Your eyes darted to the wheels. The nervousness was strong, nearly all-consuming, bidding you to shut up. Though it was a good question, the shame that flecked your eyes was enough to cause Miguel to move on. He knew you were likely inattentive, your mind hovering somewhere else than the quiet cul-de-sac.

“I… had a bad date, Miguel. I was upset and dizzy and… Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The pain of being a woman. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his large hand warm on your slight shoulder. A pulse of warmth rushed through his hand as you leaned in, your cheek plastered to his stained top. He smelled of oil and sweat, but somehow, you find it comforting. Your hands come over his back, tugging on the dark coveralls.

“It’s alright,” Miguel sighed. He'd tell you not to pick shit men-- but sometimes, as he knew, that didn't matter at all. “I’ll have it fixed.”

“I don’t have that much money, Miguel,” you began. “I have to take care of the kids, my house, Mimi. I…”

“No te preocupes. You can do something else for me.”

You drew in a small, choked breath. The type that settled in your chest and did not leave. Not until Miguel’s arms wound over your waist to soothe you through the pain and pressed a kiss that lasted entirely too long to the top of your head. It’s the first time he wants another.

“She is dating,” Peter said. “You know what that means? It means you’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one!”

"I'm not concerned about it."

The one, Miguel shook his head as he paced past the car he was propping up. He never heard anything more ludicrous. There was no such thing as the one. There was only a range of possibilities to pick from. At any point, life can happen. Then your one is gone-- and you’re left with only the memories and a body to bury. Still, as he clambered underneath the car, he found that he quite didn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else... especially not men who may or may not spike your drink.

“You should ask her to a date. Like, more than playing house with sticky kids and lasagna.”

“She’s never made me lasagna.”

Peter sloppily suckled on his fingers, the juice running down his thin wrists. “Then what was lunch?”

“Pastelón,” he answers bitterly. “It’s… plantain lasagna.”

“Okay, I thought you didn’t like--”

“I don't-- I eat it because she spends time on it.”

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He’s about to say something terribly unuseful, something like how Miguel has it bad. Miguel knows he does, half-formed images of what a family could be every day he went to pick Gabriella up, homework done, and happily fed. A feat in itself.

In place of that, though, were the car’s melded, mechanical squeals. He has but a moment and a half-formed plan that goes up in smoke the next second that it falls on his arm. He hears Peter’s half-formed, panicked shout to Lyla and recalls the flurry of steps and medical attention sometime later.

Admittedly, he did tell you to be careful.

When he wakes up, so does everyone else. Lyla chastizes him with her hands balled up on her hips, Peter sobs almost twice as much as Gabriella does until the two are dead asleep against his bed. Miguel’s eyes have rolled way too far.

“Is he finally asleep?” you peep into his heavy hospital door with a ginger knock of your knuckles. Miguel throws a look at Peter’s squishy face, half slumped over.

“Hermosa, I thought he’d never stop,” he grumbled.

“You scared him.”

Tch. Miguel watched you pick up Gabriella, settling her on the stiff pull-out bed. He foggily asked you what time it was, close to the end of visiting hours. He’d need to arrange something for Gabi with Lyla taking care of the shop. It itched at his throat.

“Gabi too. Should I…”

“Take her home for me,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just a broken arm.”

“You coughed up blood, Miggy. You could have died if Peter wasn’t there.”

Miggy. You finally used the nickname somewhere between Wednesday dinner dates and a car slumping on him. Miguel throws a growl to the side, using his non-fucked hand to pet the top of Peter’s head. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

“What happens if… something happens to you?”

“With Gabi?” he asks.

"Sí. With everything."

You nod, looking idly at his little daughter, still in her school clothes. You brought her as soon as school was over, soothed the panic in her voice, the thought of becoming an orphan just because the car had cracked his arm. She wouldn’t have remembered her mother’s death, it was far too long ago now.

“Lyla. Why the face? If you’re jealous, know that was the agreement with my wife before she was murdered.”

You hadn’t known you were making a face, but you were to the trained eye. Some small pout of your lip, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. Miguel shoves himself up on the bed, straining sore muscles. It was going to be a long night. A longer month or two until he was up and running again.

“I’m not making a face. It's just... You were reckless when you're usually so careful. I'm wondering why. I'm sorry.”

"It's fine," Miguel urged you to come closer. "Come here."

You slid into his chair, tentatively sneaking your hand on top of his. Miguel wanted to tell you more. There was not another friend nearly so close, one that would take care of everything and anything he needed. He's suddenly aware of his situation. It would be difficult to make a woman secure that he'd not tied down yet. You clearly care-- based on the insecurity in your eyes.

You’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one.

He doesn't want to miss his shot. He brought your hand to his lips, straining with a pained little grunt. You stood up to help him, allowing his lips to flutter over the back of your hand in a small kiss at his urging.

“Trust me. She’s not a threat,” he said. “You’ll take Gabi with you?”

“Of course, Miggy. Anything you need.”

Securing a relationship would just have to wait.

The first day back, Miguel sent Gabriella off with Lyla. Mimi is off with her papa, leaving you with nothing but time. He finally saw his projects through without Peter loitering over his shoulder, revitalizing cars with bad radiators and fizzled-out air compressors. As if Peter was the boss and he were the employee. The grease under his fingers feels more like Miguel than any squeaky clean shower you’ve helped him take. Yes, you’ve helped him take. He could have asked Lyla or Peter, but why over-extend their lives when you lived in his home for the past month to take care of Gabriella anyway?

He wonders what you thought, stripping him down to nothing, seeing his naked thighs, watching him clean sensitive bits that, as you lied, you were not looking at. He finds it cute, the way you tried to look away, but of course-- you always snuck a look. You’re nosy by nature. He’s never been ashamed of his body, though. For all the work you did, he thinks you deserve a look.

“Miggy,” you slipped through the side door, your heels clicking over a greased-up floor. He hopes you don’t fall, arms deep in the hood of a shiny dark blue convertible. It’s nearly perfect. “I got your message. You said we need to talk?”

“Don’t slip.”

Miguel whirled a wrench into its place, slammed the hood shut, and rubbed the grease on his hands together. Like it will come off his callouses. Miguel meets you half way, offering you his greased up hand. You look down at his hand, then up to Miguel again. He half thinks you won’t take it, but you do, allowing him to whirl you in a spin before lifting you on top od the hood of the car.

“Ay Miggy--” you cursed, looking down at the car. It shone bright, its smooth metal cold under your bare thighs. He pins you in place as you attempt to wiggle off, nearly jiggling your way onto his lap. “The owner will be mad--”

“It’s mine and I’m not.” He explains. “I know what I want.”

“You want…?”

“For the work on your car.” It’s cute how clueless you act, holding your breath as his fingers course past your bare thighs. You barely manage to choke the words out, your hands inching on his. He replaces himself between your thighs. You both know that you more than made up for the few hundred dollars in repairs with the work you’d done for him in a month. Holding your breath, you nod.

“Tell me.”

“I want a night with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, leaning your trembling fingers up to the bits of dark brown hair that accentuated the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. You met his eyes, trained on your own, challenging you to respond. Words formed in a mishmash of nonsense on your tongue. You take the chance to press your lips on his, your hand suddenly cradling the side of his face for some stability. You were hardly comfortable on his car, but Miguel didn’t seem to care, biding your lower lip to open and let him in. You relinquish, savoring the distant taste of roasted coffee on his tongue, his fingers teasing along your thighs.

“That’s not an answer,” Miguel pulled back from your lips for an instant. He graces your neck with soft kisses, leaving the occasional bite and tug just in case-- he doesn’t need another man thinking he has so much as a chance. Your big man pins you down onto the car like you were weightless, any willingness to inch away tempered by his mass.

“Depends,” you answered. “I want this to be an every night kind of thing.”

“Consider it a trade.” He chuckled against your neck, the heat from his lips traveled across the valley of your breasts. You complied with his desire and let him slip your breasts free from your romper. His mouth closed his mouth over your nipple. His greasy hands melded your breasts between his desperate hands, tongue prodding your nipple fat. Your legs met his hungry performance by pulling him forward, his scratchy belt against your clothed cunt.

“Careful,” he teased. His hand fell to his bulge, unbuttoning his stained pants. You watched him pull himself free, pulling panties and romper alike to the side of your lips. Your lips parted, much like that very first day you met him, sundered by the sight of his cock. This time, fully hard. He doesn’t enter your cunt-- no, he’s patient, slotting himself between your folds for a teasing grind. His dick twitched in response, eager to finally fuck you. “You’ll fall off.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked over dinner.” He greets your complaint with a nod, flicking your other breast. He envelops the other nipple between his mouth, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. You take a long breath, hips leaning up against his firm length.

“Like that would be anything new. We always have dinner,” Miguel murmured in protest. “A far better use of our time is soaking your pretty cunt with my cum on this car before dinner.”

He felt your cunt clench at nothing. His hips, thrusting against your mound, nudged over your wet little folds, knocked against your greedy clit. Before you could respond, Miguel popped off your nipple again, “You like that thought? Going to dinner leaking?”

“Miggy, por dios,” you complained. “Stop dry humping and give it to me.”

He huffed darkly, snatching one of your thighs and leaning back. He spreads your lips, inspecting his work. You were wet, but not just wet, soaking his car. Miguel brought his other palm to wipe your wetness away, jerking himself with the fluid. He tests your reaction by nudging the head of his cock against your unprepared hole.

“Miguel,” you bit out, this time a warning.

“Ya te oigo,” Miguel loomed over you, pinning your shoulder back to his glistening car. You don’t debate him on that, allowing him to say whatever he wants if it would just get him inside. Miguel relinquishes control, pushing inside of your tightness. He bit back a groan, pushing past your body’s resistance, throbbing against your core. Your hands fisted his dirty shirt, cunt split wide on his cock, and glad for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands securing themselves on your hips. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls nearly free, slamming forth just a moment later. Breath punched out of your throat, his cock rocking your cunt nice and full. You loved this-- looking beautiful and full just for him. He knew it too, “Hermosa.”

Miguel held his arm tight around your thigh, holding you flush against his rutting hips. His balls slapped your ass, pulling tight. You were distantly aware of his thumb at your clit, leaning your hips into his thrusts the best you could. You could only squirm to keep yourself upright on his car despite feeling your body sliding into his. His thumb worked in insistent, tight circles, forcing the pleasure to burrow in your low belly, tightening over him. It’s no marker of your performance, you think, hoping he’d give you another chance to be anything but a toy on his cock.

“No, no puedo--” you whined, your hands dipping under his shirt to scratch at his finely cut muscles, knowing you were about to gush.

“Do it,” Miguel grunts in response, his thumb more insistent. You’re not entirely proud of the way you came, creaming his cock desperately. He held strong, smothering his own groans if only for the pleasure of hearing your passionate cries. You come to moments after, Miguel’s thrusts now intent on his own pleasure.

“Come on, papi,” you worshipped. “Cum in me.”

“Fuck,” Miguel complied, his dirty nails causing sharp indentions on your thigh and hip. His sticky cum fills you in a few deep thrusts, each more forceful than the last, and he’s spent. If he was dirty before, he was filthy now. Miguel catches your lips in a lingering kiss, going soft in your body. He knew the second he pulled out your cum was soaking his now-dented car.

His eyes peeled open to find your gaze on him, tracing fresh superficial scratches on his belly. Of course, you are-- you’re a hungry addict. Miguel pulled himself free and looked for a cloth that wasn’t grease soaked to clean your cunt with. You piece yourself together and slide off his car.

“Let’s go.”

“¿Qué?” he zips himself back into his pants.

“You promised me dinner.”

He sighs-- just as long as it wasn’t lasagna.

There’s something attractive about your love of children.

He thinks it’s likely because he’s never had that himself. His mother was a beast of a woman. Never affectionate. At least, not with him. After his wife’s subsequent death, life proceeded in a vacuum. The years passed: first one. Then six. Then he was here, holding a bundle of jewel-bright roses against an uncharacteristically clean button-up, walking down the dull blue carpet of the beige hallway to the pod that usually held the kids. For all the days you tolerated him smeared and slathered, you deserved a good display.

They were usually alight with noise, rambling on about their latest toy or prattling on about a mommy that Gabriella just did not have. The more she grew, the more important it became to have that for her-- maybe it was more for himself. Today, that hall was dead of life.

“Gabi, I hear your papi,” you called from somewhere inside. He hears her subsequent pitter-patter of feet across the carpet, popping out with Mimi from the door before he can open it. Miguel cocked his head, a sigh working on his lips. They whirled the door shut. Gabi bolted to your would-be desk and slapped her tanned palms on the tabletop.

“Maestra, maestra!”

Ah, damn it all. Miguel’s hand hovers around the knob, chewing on the next thought. He couldn’t really blame the kid for what she was about to say, because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

“¿Mande?”

“I have something to tell you, it’s really important. Papi likes you, did you know my papi really, really likes you?”

There’s a pause. Then a slight, amused giggle from Mimi. It’s short-lived as he pulls open the door, loathing this dumb thing called Teacher’s Week that leaves him with a bundle of flowers and instant regret.

“Sí, Gabriella. I know he does. I like him too. He’s so cute.”

If he weren’t so dark, he’d worry about the flush in his face with the embarrassment of being outed by his little girl. He stares at your hands on Gabriella’s, then at the small sea of desks and colorful name tags to break some of the tension, hardening his face to shield it from the embarrassment. Was he really so obvious?

“Hola Miggy.”

You scoot out of your chair.

“Hola,” he sighs, remembering he was holding flowers. He slides them into your hands, hooking his hands on his slender hips. “This is… Gabi wanted to give you flowers.”

“I never said that,” she chirped, bouncing his way. “You said--���

“Gabriella.” Miguel hisses, his tone sharp at her interjection. She goes dead silent by Mimi's side, staring up at him with watery eyes. He jerks his head in the direction of the quartet of desks she sits at. “Go get your things.”

“I think Papi is embarrassed,” you whisper, crouching down to rub her little back, soothing down her milky white top. “I’ll talk to him and make it better, okay? Go with Mimi.”

“Okay.”

Mimi bounded off behind Gabi, stuffing her bag with her colorful work and chunky crayons. Miguel exhaled air, staring at her powdery blue backpack for something other than the complete and utter embarrassment that yet someone else had called him out. If it wasn't Peter, it was his daughter.

Had he been this obvious the whole time?

“Don’t be too hard on her tonight,” He peered down at you, small in the grand scheme of his height and musculature. You pecked a small kiss on his lips, stroking his week-old stubble, just enough to cool Miguel’s teetering nerves. “It’ll be better when she finds out.”

[autumn-hiraeth]

Rockabye!

Hobie brown x reader

angst but not enough. First part.

NEXT PART

a/n: so many people asked for a second part. So i hope y'all like it! ( loved all the comments lol). Part 3? Gimme ideas pls

Find more here “ Hobie's masterlist 🕷”

You knew that being with someone like Hobie Brown would change your life completely and you weren't wrong. It's been three years since you saw him, three years since Hobie not only broke your heart but also got you pregnant (how thoughtfu of him). You found out you were pregnant a month later and it felt so bad 'cause Hobie obviously didn't feel nothing for you. At first you thought he was just busy but soon you got the message; he was not coming back.

So all on your own, you move in, and do what you have to do to make sure your little girl grow up well and has a good life.

Your daughter has some of your features, but she's a mini Hobie Brown. So you try to stay away from him, however he's fucking Spider Punk, if he really wanted to know about you he would have already found you. :( Never mind, he would make a terrible father. You think.

But one unexpected day, Hobie Brown meets your daughter. His daughter. Hobie is panting hard, trying to save people 'til suddenly his spider-sense kicks in and his heart races 'cause he's never felt like this before.

Then he sees a little girl crying, her parents aren't around and no matter how hurt he is, he doesn't hesitate to swing her out of the danger. He looks at the little girl and is shocked 'cause the kid , who is still sobbing, is exactly like him. She takes after him.

So Hobie tries to calm her down, he's cradling her in his arms, not taking his eyes off her as he murmurs "don't cry, little girl"

Hobie knows he should be helping other people, but he can't, the kid looks so much like him that he doesn't want to leave her alone, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to her.

However, Hobie scoffs at his thought, of course the kid doesn't look like him, he's just tired. And when Hobie finally manages to calm the kid down, he hears a familiar voice. "Rhea! Oh thank god you're fine!" you are in front of him crying, in a frantic state and you don't even seem to realize that your daughter is being held by Spider Punk, her father, no, instead you take her off his arms while you sob happy to have found her safe and sound.

But Hobie is frozen watching the scene; you, the love of her life, whom he abandoned three years ago, holding your daughter while you kiss her cheeks in relief and his heartbeat races 'cause Hobie suddenly seems to figure out why the kid looks like him... It is her daughter. He's dad. "Y/n..." as soon as you hear his voice you hug your daughter as a defense mechanism.

“I gotta go” your voice sounds more serious and your look makes him feel guilty instantly. "Fine, I'll take you two home" he suggests and you frown because you can't believe he has the audacity to just act like everything ended well between the two of you.

"no way, I don't need your help" you are being cold and Hobie understands that; he understands that you hate him 'cause he abandoned you; he abandoned his pregnant girl; the thought of everything you had to go through to take care of his, your, daughter, burns deep inside him.

'cause if he had only stayed then now you and Hobie would be a family and he knows he would be a good father. Yes, being a father is a thought he never had but now, he knows that he would make a good father even a good husband.

"Y/n please" he pleads, he wants to talk, apologize and meet the kid, tell you that he's still loving you, but you don't care what Hobie wants so you pick up your daughter, who hides her face in the crook of your neck. "Stay away Hobart" you tell him and Hobie lets you go, for now.

But you two know that they'll see each other again, 'cause Hobie knows that he has a daughter with you.

[lovelybucky1]

trailer trash!anakin

this au was a joint effort with my bff @fuckmyskywalker 🫶🫶🫶

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of drug use, age gaps, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, anakin is objectively a bad person in this, 18+ minors DNI

masterlist

Anakin and Padme divorced many years ago because he was a deadbeat father, an alcoholic, and she suspected him of an affair. Little did she know, it wasn't just one affair.

Anakin has three kids who are now all adults. He has an older daughter who's just like her mother and has no patience for her dad's bullshit, and a set of twins, a boy and a girl. His son has his temper, much to his mother's dismay, and his younger daughter is his little princess.

Padme and the kids stayed in the house, so he had to move to a trailer park across town. Padme always did all of the housework, which was part of the reason for the divorce, so Anakin's place is always a wreck.

There's beer cans and cigarette butts everywhere, laundry on the floor, dishes piled in the sink, playing cards scattered around. They're not all his, some of the mess can be attributed to his buddies he invites over on the weekends, but either way, he makes no effort to clean it up.

Since his wife, Anakin hasn't dated. He's brought home plenty of girls, all significantly younger than he is. Any time he's asked about it, he explains that he just prefers younger girls. He and Padme were only 19 when they got together, so he's used to being with a younger woman.

Anakin is in his forties now, but he doesn't act his age. He has a job at the mechanic's shop and he does what minimal dad duties are required of him, though now that his kids are adults, he isn't needed as much. In his free time, he gets drunk and high with his friends, goes to strip clubs, and gambles his money away.

You're a waitress at the diner near the trailer park. Anakin is a regular, though your coworkers told you he only comes in when you're working. He usually orders a cup of coffee and sits at the counter where he can flirt with you every time you walk by.

He's told you a lot about himself; you know what kind of guy he is. Borderline alcoholic, irresponsible, unfaithful. Maybe you should've listened to your parents when they told you to stay away from older guys because you've found yourself charmed by him.

Anakin showers you in compliments, especially when you wear your hair in pigtails. He tips generously even though you know he doesn't have much extra money to spare. He asks about your day and he really seems like he cares.

He knows you don't have a car and one day, when your shift was about to end, he offered you a ride home. You agreed like the naïve little thing you are and got into the passenger seat of his shitbox car. He asked if you wanted to stop at his place for a bit before he took you home. Said he had beer and he could scrape together something a bit sweeter for you if you'd prefer.

The two of you flipped through the stations on his TV until you found something good, but you didn't get to watch it for long. After the second commercial break, Anakin pulled you into his lap and grabbed at your ass greedily. You giggled and slapped at his chest playfully, and though he returned your smile, you could see the hunger in his eyes.

Anakin told you he's been obsessed with you since he first saw you. Said you're the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes on. Said you make him feel young again. That's the kind of sweet talk that gets him all the girls that don't know better.

He drags you to the bedroom and he kisses you dizzy so you don't notice how the fitted sheet is pulled up over the corner of the mattress or the Baywatch poster on the wall. He gets on his back and sits you on top of him, ever the lazy bastard. He wants you to put on a show for him to watch eagerly like you're his personal porn star.

Your tight cunt grips him perfectly and your tits bouncing in his face mesmerize him. He loves how you're so eager to give yourself up to him. Loves that you're inexperienced enough that every tough feels electric. Loves that you're dumb enough that his promise to pull out is enough.

When you're finished, he holds you in his arms against his bare chest while he smokes. When he looks in your eyes, he knows he has you. You're gonna move in and make this place a home, you'll get pregnant and he'll promise to marry you once he has enough money for a ring. Maybe this time he'll stick around, but Anakin's never been good at breaking cycles.

[sinsatmidnight]

30 Years Later

Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader

Words - 3101

Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex

So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!

(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)

It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.

A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.

“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.

“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”

The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”

Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.

Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.

Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.

You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.

You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.

With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.

Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’

As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.

Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“

Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”

You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.

You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.

You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.

"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.

"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.

"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.

"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.

With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.

It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.

As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.

Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.

With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."

You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.

Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"

You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.

"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"

"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.

She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.

It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.

"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.

You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.

This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.

"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.

"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.

Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.

Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.

You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.

Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.

You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.

The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

In Another World

Part 1

Request: Hi! Can I please request a Kylo x f!reader oneshot where she’s from Earth, & doesn’t know about jedi + 1st order(she’s not a Jedi/no powers). One day stumbles upon something that causes her to teleport where the 1st Order is. Kylo & troops notice her & capture her(she’s terrified/confused), He keeps her safe, & to fully protect her, he marries her so the order doesn’t question why she’s alive. She hates it at first, but they both fall in love, she even talks him down, so he doesn’t kill his dad. Requested by @kpopgirlbtssvt

WC: 1.1 K.

Fictober Challenge

After many years of research, your team had finally made a breakthrough in quantum mechanics. This new experiment was going to change the world. As the particle accelerator was activated, you felt the ground shake beneath you. A crackle of energy filled the air, and then everything went black.

You woke to the smell of smoke and the sound of screams. You opened your eyes to find yourself surrounded by trees. You were no longer in the lab. As you stood up, people were running away, completely ignoring your attempts to ask where you were. Then you saw something that was definitely not human- it looked like a robot of some kind, also fleeing in the same direction. You turned to see what they were all running away from, only to come face-to-face with a figure dressed in black, wearing a helmet that could only be described as…funny. 

“Finally, someone who isn’t running. Could you tell me where we are? I must have hit my head or something” you asked and the figure approached slowly.

“Interesting” he tilted his head, observing you.

“Uhm, are you alright?” You noticed the strange mechanical tone in his voice, which put you even more on edge.

“You don’t seem afraid of me” he remarked.

“And…why would I be?” you asked, utterly confused by the man standing before you. Then, with a sharp-snap hiss, he ignited what appeared to be a laser sword and held it to your neck.

“Alright, alright! Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Could you please lower that thing? I promise, I didn’t do anything” you raised your hands in surrender, fear gripping you. This man was a psychopath.

“Do you think this is a joke, girl?” his voice was laced with anger.

“No, no! I don’t. Please, I’ll do anything you ask. Just don’t kill me” you begged, your heart pounding.

“That droid. Where did he go?” he demanded, still not lowering the blade.

“The ball thing? I… I don’t know.”

“Don’t play games with me. I don’t have time for this.” he threatened, bringing the saber closer.

“I’m not! I swear. Look, I just got here. I have no clue where we are or what that thing was” you babbled, your panic growing.

“So you insist on lying to me?” He snapped his fingers, and two soldiers in white armor grabbed you by the arms. “Bring her to my ship.”

“Please, no! I swear I’m telling the truth! Where are you taking me?” You shouted, struggling in their grip as they dragged you toward the ship. He ignored you, clearly focused on finding something.

“Hey, let me go. I- I can walk” you tried to pull your arms, but they were stronger.

—

“You know, I wouldn’t mind being tied up under other circumstances, but maybe not in this situation. This really is not necessary, I can assure you that.” You babbled nervously, tugging at the restraints.

“I’ll be the judge of that” the man in black said coolly, still wearing his mask.

“Why am I here, exactly?” you asked cautiously.

“The droid. Where is it?” he repeated.

“Listen, dude. I don’t know. I told you, and I’m telling you again, I have no idea where I am or what this place is. I don’t even know if you’re a real person or a robot behind that mask.” You quipped, frustration bubbling up.

He removed his helmet, revealing indeed, a person was behind it. He approached you, his features were cold and unreadable, betraying nothing. “You know I can take whatever I want” he said, his voice low and threatening.

“Whoa! I hope you don’t mean that in a sexual way” you blurted, your heart racing and he sensed the distress in you.

His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. You were different from anyone he’d ever interrogated. “Your mind. I can simply take the information you’ve been hiding” he clarified, his tone colder.

You sighed deeply, getting tired of explaining to him. “Then go ahead. You’ll see that I have nothing to hide and this is all just a big misunderstanding.” You instantly regretted your words, fearing he might torture information you didn’t have out of you.

He seemed surprised by your lack of resistance. He contemplated for a moment, then reached out with his hand, and you felt a brief twinge of pain spike through your head.

“You were telling the truth” he muttered, lowering his hand, not expecting that. He paced the room as he considered his next move.

“I told you.” After a moment of silence, you asked cautiously “So…does that mean you’ll let me go now?”

“I can’t do that.”

Before you could say anything else, another man entered the room, looking displeased. “Who have you brought in this time, Ren?” the ginger man asked, disdain evident in his tone.

So, his name was Ren, you noted, watching the exchange in growing anxiety.

“General Hux, I do not appreciate you barging in” Ren said, visibly irritated.

“I have orders from Supreme leader Snoke himself.” Hux said, puffing his chest in pride.

“What are the orders?”

Hux glanced at you, then returned his gaze on Ren “We’ve received intel on the resistance. We know their location. We’re preparing to launch an attack that would wipe them out” He announced smugly.

Your eyes widened in fear. These people, whoever they were, were dangerous people, and you had heard too much. You tried to shrink into the background, hoping you wouldnt’t draw their attention to you again. Alone, the look Hux gave you sent shivers down your spine. However, you failed miserably as both men could sense your fear.

“The girl must die. She’s heard more than she should.” Hux declared coldly, glancing at you again.

“I won’t tell anyone, I swear! Just please, don’t kill me” you pleaded, your voice cracking.

“I will decide her fate” Ren interjected, anger flashing his eyes at Hux’s interference. He didn’t like someone else being in his business or giving him orders.

“If you can’t do it, I’ll gladly take care of it” Hux sneered, stepping closer to you, but Ren’s voice cut through the tension.

“Stop right there. Don’t you dare lay a hand on her” Ren barked, his voice shaking with anger. Once he realized that his worry was out of place, he had to improvise “She’s my wife…to be.” As he said these words, he seemed shocked himself.

“What? No” you exclaimed, eyes wide in disbelief. 

Hux glanced between the two of you, clearly noy convinced. “Your wife to be?”

“Yes” Ren said, regaining his composure. “She ran away from me, but I found her. The wedding will take place soon. I don’t need to explain my personal affairs with you.”

“I- I’ll leave you to it, then” Hux replied, a look of distaste crossing his features before turning to you with mock politeness. “I believe congratulations are in order.” he smirked before walking out.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Ghostface! Ellie Williams and Ghostface! Abby Anderson with a chubby fem s/o

+ featuring some slight yandere and explicit themes (these are dating headcanons to specify)

A/n: Hi again lovelies! I didn't expect the last one to blow up so quickly so I'm back to writing, honestly every note, like and reblog encourages me to do more and do better so thank you for that. I honestly didn't expect to write something a bit gory after writing mostly fluff so this'll be interesting. Reminder English is not my first language and I'm trying my best, I hope you enjoy:)

I'll possibly add more in the future if I have ideas :3

Meet my cousin y'all: @rabblebite

Disclaimers/Warnings: Slight yandere like behavior???, violence, gore, knife kink, gun kink, stalking, suggestive themes and language. Characters may be a bit OOC (but you already know this, it's ghostface)(the chubby part is just a little add on so there's actually not that many headcanons regarding that)

If you wish to be tagged, please comment that you want to be or follow so that you'll be updated also: Rules for requests

Ellie Williams dating inspired playlist made by me

Ellie Williams

The first time you met Ellie was a bit of a blur. Let me elaborate...

You were new at the school, first day and all that cliche shit. Bell rings, you run to class. You found yourself in a seat next to a girl, auburn hair and freckles. A few times throughout the class you made eye contact and smiled a few times.

What you didn't know was that Ellie was already freaking out, can you really blame her? A pretty girl sits next to her and smiles at her, not only that but you even offered her a mechanical pencil because hers was flimsy and the led kept breaking on her. She thought you completely forgot about the pencil but did you really?

This was the start of her obsession over you.

After that day she stalked you non-stop, she knew everything. She even kept a small journal, writing down what you did and how she felt about it after.

Her sketchbooks were filled with you, aside from a few other things it was mostly you. There's at least 2-3 doodles on each page of either you or your name on her sketchbook.

May or may not have carved your initials on her guitar before you even started dating.

That mechanical pencil you gave her, she kept it, barely even used it after that so she can keep something of yours.

When she managed to get enough courage to talk to you again, she tried giving you the pencil back in guilt but you refused. You told her to keep it and did that woman worship that pencil.

You got invited to her friend group, which are Dina and Jesse and out of all of them, she hang out with you the most.

After a while, Ellie felt confident enough to ask you out and a sigh of relief for her when you said yes.

She has polaroid of you lying around everywhere in her room, you even stuck some on the edge of your mirror and locker so she'd see it.

Your pet names including: princess, bunny, sweet thing and pretty girl.

The night you found out Ellie was Ghostface was the time you were walking at the street just minding your business when you were pulled in an alleyway but some creepy 50 something year old hobo.

You kicked him off of you and tried to run and the man tried to chase after you. Only to have his mouth covered by a white cloth and stabbed in the back. Hastily running, you got pulled back by the black cloaked stranger and before you could scream, she took off her mask.

"Ellie?" You whisper in fear, you saw her drop her knife and hug you.

You were still in shock, after all you just found out your girlfriend killed someone, rather a lot of people.

"[Name]? Are you alright? He didn't touch you anywhere did he?" She asked, seemingly forgetting she was still wearing her ghostface get up. Lucky for you that you kicked him off before anything else happened.

You two talked it out and you understand her motive behind all of the killings however that doesn't take away from the fact that you're terrified of what consequences await her if she was ever to get caught.

Ellie is aware of what might happen when she gets caught so she does everything she can to make sure you are not in any way, shape or form involved if she was caught.

Even if it means for her to forever rot in prison, she'd rather keep you away than endanger you for being a witness or even a suspect.

She heard about you being flirted with and inappropriately touched by some Chad. After a few days he was spotted, gutted open at the school tree hanging by his clothes.

She'd definitely think it's adorable to see you with the ghostface get up, it's specifically tailored to her size so seeing it on you with the trim dragging on the ground makes her thing of like the ghost costumes with just a white blanket and she just thinks you're such an angel, too pure even.

I just can't stop imagining her with a knife kink, though she doesn't actually cut you with it. She loves the way you whimper and squirm when she presses the cold blade on your plush skin.

She gets off on blood, that being said once she's with you and you already know about the killings, she can't just let it slide.

Someone else's blood on your skin makes her feel all sorts of things. (You may or may have engaged in sexual things after her gutting people up)

Clean up after that is a bit of work so there's that.

Seeing you in lingerie and blood would make her lose all self control.

If you were to accidentally kill someone, she would not only help you clean up but she'll also take responsibility for the kill. She made it look like ghostface did it.

If you were to decide to join in the killings, she'd let you but with moderation.

For example she'll let you make the decision on who to kill or strategize the killings. Before you could even suggest someone who wronged you, they're already 6ft under believe me. Ellie easily picks up on how you feel about someone and it's not like you don't tell her.

She'd also let you watch the killings, either hidden or disguised but that's just how far she'll go. She doesn't want you to actually be the one to do the killing cause she's too paranoid you'll do something that'll cause you to get caught.

Abby Anderson

You met at the basketball court while you were sitting at the bleachers because let's be real here, Abby is a total jock and athlete, she seems like she'd be a gym rat too. (Without the red flags of one though)

You were sitting with your friends Dina and Jesse while you guys just catched up since the past week has been hectic, you even went so far as to gossip and think of conspiracies on who has been responsible for the reported killings by the killer they named ghostface. You looked at your phone, looking at the messages when you flinched, almost getting hit by a ball.

You open your eyes shortly to see Abby Anderson, the school's lesbian jock, who by the way is holding the ball that almost hit you. Anderson muttered an apology on behalf of her teammate who mistakenly threw the ball at your direction.

You told her it was fine and that it was and honest mistake when you know damn well you would've been far more upset if that ball actually hit you.

Abby just couldn't stop staring at you, I mean could you blame her? She felt like a knight and shinning armour when she just saved a pretty girl from a potential head injury.

She snapped back to reality when she heard her teammate say "Hey Anderson! Stop flirting with pretty girls and pass that ball back will you" Abby was a bit flustered by that comment because all and all she agreed to it.

On Abby's desk is carved your name and initials, she has gotten detention over it though I don't think the school is aware of how many desks have your name carved on them.

It took a while but Abby finally did ask you out, she approached you while you were taking a few things out of your locker. "So uhh, do you want to go out with me? On a date I mean..." She asked with her hand rubbing her neck, Abby was bracing herself for rejection.

You had to do a bit of a double take because the Abby Anderson is asking you out? You said yes obviously.

May or may not have stalked you before asking you out to find out everything you like to set up the perfect date.

Abby definitely has a polaroid of you both is her locker and gym locker. (There's one in her wallet too 🥺)

Your nicknames are: my cheerleader (because she knows damn well you've been to all her games and was there to cheer her on), baby, babe and pretty girl

You only found out that she's ghostface because she couldn't take it anymore and told you after seeing that you're scared of ghostface potentially threatening your life.

Poor baby was so worried you'd think insane if her after, let's just say she ended up loving you more for accepting the fact and understanding the reason behind the killings. (let's be real here any normal person would but not you)

When you first asked to play a part in the killings, Abby disagreed, no way in hell was she letting her girl be in danger both of the police and whatever else is out there.

She hates the idea of you going to jail more than she hates the idea of getting caught and facing the consequences.

But if you really want to then like Ellie she'd let you but with limitations. You're only ever allowed to watch when you are disguised and she'll let you stab a few every now and then.

Abby with a gun kink, Abby with a gun kink, Abby with a gun kink. Watch her get turn on when you flinch from the clicks whenever she pulls the trigger.

Despite Abby hating horror movies, she sure made a hell of a good killer.

[legacygirlingreen]

Easing Tensions

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: When introductions go wrong, watch as Tech slowly has to earn back your good graces after he insults your abilities as a mechanic. From friendship to something more, eventually the two of you find some slice of heaven on Ord Mantell despite all odds...

Warning: Smut! Tech and reader are definetly not virgins so not first time (unless you wanna count first time together). Mild dom/sub vibes. Casual/playful spanking. Don't worry Tech's still really sweet. Mentions of Omega being kidnapped by Cad Bane and events of Bracca.

***no use of Y/N!!***

Notes: This is my first time posting for Bad Batch content so I really hope that everything goes okay! I want to thank my awesome friend @strawberrypinky for bearing with me and encouraging me despite her not having watched TBB before! It's so wonderful to have a friend who's so supportive!

Definitely pulled some inspo from some AMAZING fanart that I've seen on here. There's this wonderful image of Tech with tattoos by @cloned-eyes and so many incredible ones by @eggdrawsthings like this who often draws Tech with his cute little undercut!

Word Count: 16.5 words (I apologize for my inability to do porn without a plot!)

Ord Mantell wasn’t the nicest part of the galaxy, but- 

It is home..? 

It is tolerable..? 

It is a steaming pile of bantha shit? Yeah that’s probably as close as you could get to describing it. 

  No one intends to live in this sketchy city in the mid-rims: you just end up here. That’s how you got here after all. After having a few good years working on Coruscant, designing starships for Senators and the Aristocrats of the Republic. But then the war started. The Republic discovered they had been funding an army of clones, and all those privatized contracts dried up, rent went up and you’d been forced to leave the planet of lights. 

  After your ship had a malfunction, ending up in the space port just outside Cid’s place, the Trandoshan oddly taking pity on you, allowing you a place to crash in exchange for repairing her arcade machines… and the dish washer… and rewire her a new security system… and so much you lost track before word got around of your mechanical engineering skills. 

  Rotations kept going and it wasn’t long before you found yourself with a small shop, running jobs within the city on household appliances, droids, ships - you name it. It wasn’t much, just a tiny building full of spare parts, a work space, a front with some small devices to sell. Not to mention the small loft apartment above it - not that you actually made it up there, often falling asleep burning the midnight oil at your desk - but it was still a home. 

  Only occasionally getting robbed or having some creeps passing through town hitting on you being the few things that threw a damper in what turned out to be a decent enough existence. And as sketchy as Cid might be, or the cast of characters she keeps around, you still kept a soft spot for the lady. Always repairing whatever she claimed needed fixing… it was usually nothing. But you’d let her pour you a drink while you ‘fixed’ the slots for the hundredth time. After being tossed out of the highlight of the galaxy, you were finally at peace with where you wound up. 

  That was, until they showed up. 

  Bolo had stopped by in the morning, claiming Cid had broken the slot machine again, to which you said the usual: I’ll stop by after I finish this. 

  This being a machine for one of the only doctors in town. While most of the folks on Ord Mantell were less than ideal, the few good people made it worth sticking around. The doctor needing a medical device for internal issues fixed being an actual emergency over Cid’s loneliness. However, that rationalization soon would be something you’d regret. 

  Hours melted away, soldering iron finishing off the last of the repair. Standing from the desk, cracking your back and fingers prodding at the crick in your neck. Soreness being the reward for a hard day’s work. Well that and the small burns and cuts on your fingers. But that was an occupational hazard of doing repairs. 

  Slipping a coat on with the blaster you kept for protection underneath it was a quick delivery, with a joyful thank you - and a thank you pie courtesy of his lovely wife - and you finally made it to Cid’s. 

  You recognized the armor immediately. Having heard a few weeks back about the end of the war, you wondered what would happen to them. The clones. The ones that took your job. Took any chance at a promising career as a ship designer, because free labor is better than cheap labor. 

  Why were clones on Ord Mantell?

  All with their helmets removed, one near the bar turned to face you almost immediately. His face half covered in a tattoo as he made eye contact. You scowled, turned away, pushing your unresolved anger onto the man as if he personally was the cause of your misery. 

  Next to him was a clone that looked more metal than man. What had the Republic done with their clones if he wound up this bad? You thought to yourself, watching as his pale eyes glanced over your frame. The coat rack behind you suddenly reminds you that perhaps it best to remind these men you meant business. 

  Slipping off the outerwear, holster and gun on full display over the tight, oil stained work suit, you once again turn to examine just how many clones were in the parlor. A very large one, entertaining… a child? You knew for a fact these men were clones. Having been hit on by enough, regretfully having slept with a few before you skipped town - you had seen enough brown eyes to last a lifetime. 

  Then the joyful call of your name, Bolo and Ketch welcoming you over as Cid emerged from the back with yet another clone. 

  “Took you long enough,” she said, an almost undetectable smile working on her face as the others watched the interaction. 

  “Well, some of us had real work to do,” You tell her with a fake annoyed expression, stepping closer to the bar. 

  “You call tinkering in that dark room, work? When I - a paying customer - requested services,” Cid said. That caused the laugh to burst from your mouth, startling the watchful eyes of the new strangers. Soon Bolo and Ketch joined in, slapping the bar excitedly. 

  “I think I would be concerned if you did actually pay me,” You say through a chuckle, grabbing a tool off your belt as you turn towards the open room. “So where’s this slot machine that’s broken?” You emphasize the word, knowing it was likely from the one wire she always slightly disconnected to make you feel better for drinking without paying.

  “Same one as always, you know the drill. But hold on, I want you to meet my new boys. They are going to be running some jobs for me in order to keep a low profile with everything that’s going on,” Cid said, gesturing to the small squad of clones. 

  “I thought you said you would keep our business discreet?” Face-Tattoo growled as Cid waved him off. 

  “She’s a trusted acquaintance. The last stray I took in. Now look at her-” Cid started as Ketch spoke at the same time as her. 

  “A successful business woman-” Cid said.

“Covered in grease-” Ketch said.

  Bolo reacted immediately, laughing till he started coughing. The largest of the clones joining the Ithorian in laughter as you scowled at them. 

  “Cid it almost sounds as if you like me when you put it that way,” you warn her as she shakes her head, pushing you towards the slot machine. 

  “Eh don’t get carried away. Anyways, introductions. This is bandana-” she began as he grumpily spouted out, “Hunter”. 

  “This is muscles,” she pointed to the large one, who said “I’m Wrecker!” offering a smile and a hand, which she awkwardly shook. 

  “That’s tiny-” Cid pointed to the small girl, lingering near the one she called Wrecker. 

  “Hi! I’m Omega! You are really pretty-” she said, offering a hand as well. Her compliment catches you off guard from all the time with Cid’s sarcasm. 

  “Oh, uh… thanks kid. I like your uh… enthusiasm” you try to give her a compliment, the politeness so foreign it came off forced but the kid didn’t notice. 

  “Not sure what to call that one but he’s more metal than man at this point-” she pointed to the cybernetically enhanced one. 

  “Echo” he said plainly and you nod, appreciating the simplicity in his response. 

  “And this is goggles” she said, gesturing to the last one, who didn’t bother to look up from the device he was working on to even acknowledge you. 

  “Charming,” you reply sarcastically, finally drawing his attention as he watched the tail end of your eye roll. His own eyes fixating over the unique attire you donned along with the tools on your belt, his eyes narrowing as he wondered about your occupation. 

“His name is Tech, not Goggles,” giggles Omega. 

  “Ah, I see you are already acclimated to Cid’s show of affection. She must really like you all. Well, now that the introductions are out of the way, Cid-” You began, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible if there were now going to be clones at the parlor. Despite these one’s looking… vastly different, they still played a role in why you left. 

“Fix, then drink. You know the deal,” she explains. 

  Nodding you quickly sliding on your back, you open the circuit board, quickly locating the same wire that was always ‘altered’ prior to your arrival. Just as you went to reattach it however, a voice near your head startled you, the yelp leaving your lips as the wire’s exposed end shocked you. 

  “Ah!” filled the parlor, everyone’s attention turning towards the slot machine which Tech had inadvertently shoved himself underneath alongside you as he began troubleshooting the issue. 

  “Perhaps you should consider replacing the whole circuit board and wiring system if this one machine persists with issues. I am inclined to doubt your mechanic skills if you continually have to come back for repairs on the same device.” He spoke bluntly as you dropped the tool in your hand, anger rising to the surface as he stared at the machine, hands starting to trace the circuit board when you lost it. 

  “What are you doing?!” You demanded, finally drawing his attention, when Tech realized he had invaded your personal space a bit more than he intended. 

  “Oh, I was curious if my knowledge of engineering would be helpful given you seem to lack the knowledge in order to fix this devic-” he started but you weren’t hearing it, sliding away from him instantly as you brushed yourself off and stood, angrily stomping in the opposite direction.

  Cid called your name but you weren’t hearing it, reaching for your coat, tossing it on despite the many eyes watching your hasty exit. “Clones!” you gritted through clenched teeth, eyes rolling as you started up to street level. Steps on the stairs being the last anyone heard of you as you left a wake of confusion. 

  “Way to go Goggles” Cid chastised him as he stood, having propped himself up when you stomped away. 

  “I fail to see the issue. I merely pointed out the flaws in her previous attempts to fix the slot-” Tech began to defend himself. 

  “I don’t think insulting her was the right move,” Hunter groaned. 

  “Yeah, why did you make fun of how she fixes stuff? She was really pretty.” Wrecker said, sheepish look. 

  Echo remained silent, watching as Tech did not grasp what had happened, once again firing into an explanation as to why he believed he was not in the wrong.

  “If one continually has to return to fix the same device, I believe it only fair to question the validity of their credentials. Why else would it-” Tech spoke, only to have Omega step towards him, gently placing her hand on his armored shoulder before she said, “Tech, I think that for the two of them, fixing the machine is Cid’s way of asking for her company. That’s why it’s always the same device that’s broken-”

  “What you are saying is that the slot machine is a humorous bit of sorts?” He asked, glancing back at the way the panel lacked 2 bolts on its cover. When he looked at the spot, now vacated by you, he noticed you left a wrench on the ground. Walking towards it, he bent at the waist, picking it up and examining it. Carved into the handle were some initials, he assumed must be yours. 

  “It seems Tiny is smarter than you are Goggles,” Cid said with an eye roll, walking to the backroom, leaving the clones with the two regulars who awkwardly watched the interaction. 

  “I did not mean to appear rude-” Tech sighed, fingers probing his temples as Omega looked at Ketch. 

  “You know her don’t you?” Omega asked. 

  “Yeah… I can take it to her place on the way home. She tends to hole herself up there for days at a time-” Ketch explained only to have Omega shake her head. 

  “If you could tell us where it is, I can return it.” The small girl informed the group, immediately having Hunter protest, but Echo nudged him, pointing at Tech. 

  “Fine but take Tech with you,” Hunter realized Echo was alluding to Tech being granted an opportunity to apologize. 

  “I still believe it best to wait until morning given the nature of this town being less than ideal,” Tech protested. 

  “It’ll be fine Tech, we can take them!” Omega said enthusiastically, grabbing his hand and her newly acquired bow. 

  “I’m assuming them to be the metaphorical enemies we may run across?” He sighed, reaching for his helmet but Omega yanked him harder. 

  “Omega my helm-“ he yelped and she kept dragging.

  “It’ll be fine. Besides, if you are going to apologize it’s better to let her see your face when you do so,” omega explained. 

  “Why does seeing my face matter?” He groaned, the two of them coming to the street as Ketch pointed them in the direction of a street, giving them a piece of paper with your shop logo before leaving. 

  “Well, I don’t know. Maybe she’ll think you’re handsome,” Omega spoke with a mischievous grin, still tugging her brother along as he stumbled behind her. 

  “That is rather doubtful,” He told her, sigh passing over his lips as he realized it would likely be the same story he’d known many times at this point. Any time they were on Corrasaunt, they did worse with the presence of Regs, and the few women that glanced their way were always going for Wrecker, Crosshair or Hunter. He had lucked out in some ways, that Echo seemingly did just as bad with women, the two of them only rarely completing the mission so to speak. On the rare instance he did find himself, it usually felt awkward, unsatisfying and with them forgetting his name by morning. Despite being well versed in how to assist women, it always felt forced and against his nature to behave in the more dominant nature most females found appealing. Not that Tech was going to be the one to explain the intricacies of sexual relations to Omega. He was certain via scientific means that she was aware of how the act worked, but beyond that it felt more like a conversation between her and genuinely anyone else. 

  “I think that’s it!” She pointed out, and he raised the crude drawing on a napkin they had acquired that showed the logo of the shop. Above the shop was a light in what he figured to be a small domicile she occupied. 

  “I believe you are correct, however it may be best to attempt entry from the back. It appears there is a set of stairs that lead to-” he began, only to have the girl bound off without him for the alleyway, a slight skip in her step. 

  From within your apartment, you were angrily stomping about, tossing random parts into a crate. Circuit board, wires, tools. Who was he to question your ability to fix the damned machine? Fixing to make your way back to the parlor, you were dead set on proving him wrong. 

  In the midst of your sharp movements a knock at the apartment door startled you, causing you to stumble and ram your toes into the leg of the nearest table. The expletive ringing through the air as you hobbled towards the door, hand on the gun in case some creep had followed you. Pulling up the image display you had installed for security you saw the girl from the parlor and - 

  Door sliding open, you leaned against the frame to prevent putting weight on the throbbing extremity. 

  “Can I help you?” You grumpily scoffed at the pair, the little girl undeterred by your perturbed nature while the Clone, much less confident now glanced around awkwardly, his arms clutching his sides. 

  “We came to return your wrench,” she smiled up at you, her innocent brown eyes sparkling with the low lighting of your flat reflecting. Dammit. 

  “Well, that is unexpectedly kind I suppose. I assume Ketch told you where I live, so why not just let him do it?” You ask, still unsure why she sought you out to return something as simple as a wrench. You had hundreds. Still feeling the pain in your foot, you began to worry that you had actually broken or fractured something, given it had lingered, so as you looked down at the young girl you once again shifted weight, a slight hiss exiting your lips, nearly undetectable, but with the way Tech was scrutinizing you he noticed. 

  “Oh, I just thought that maybe since you and Cid are close, our squad could become friends with you-” Omega began only to have Tech interrupt her, stepping between the two of you. 

  “You are injured,” he bluntly said, gesturing down to your foot. 

  “Yes. I do not get visitors, especially this time of night, and certainly not men who have insulted me coming to my door. The knock startled me,” you hissed out as you straightened up, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you as you glared at him. 

  “Tech did not mean to be rude-” the girl began sensing the shift in hostility between the way you had spoken softly to her and the way tension grew the second Tech spoke up. 

  “I’m sure Tech-” you cut her off and test the waters by using his name before continuing “-doesn’t need you to apologize on his behalf. He’s a big boy. He can do it himself,” You glance down at her before once again turning to face him, arms crossing over your chest. “Unless of course, he isn’t sorry?” You challenge him to speak up with your tone. 

  “I-” she spoke after the beat of silence, only to have the man interrupt her once more. 

  “I believed myself to be perfectly within the bounds of questioning your skillset given the information I had at the time, being your frequent return to the parlor-” He began and you rolled your eyes, back of your head leaning back to meet the frame of the door as you scoffed. 

  “So you came to further insult me.” You said as he paused momentarily to look at you. 

  “No, I was-” Tech began and you waved him off, dismissing him. 

  “Sure sounds that way to me Brown Eyes,” You push off the frame of the door despite the pain in your toe, to get as close to face level as possible, despite his extremely tall frame. “I’ve dealt with enough clones to last a lifetime. And my experience has always been that of arrogant, inconsiderate men who think too highly of themselves and too lowly of me,” you lean in closer to his ear so only he will hear as you whisper, “especially for men who continually failed to finish me off…” 

  Leaning back you smirk watching the realization, possibly even horror cross his features as the tips of his ears burn red. 

  “Omega, go back to Cid’s-” he stuttered out as you laughed. 

  “Not this time of night Tech. Ord Mantell is far from the worst place in the galaxy but that doesn’t mean it's safe for her to navigate alone, especially with what’s on the horizon.” You warned him, eyes glancing up to the sky. 

  “Whatever do you mea-” Tech began, watching in horror as Omega’s hair began to slightly stand up as she giggled, while a large flash of light overhead. 

  “Electrical storms. I am surprised you didn’t note them in whatever archives I suspect someone of your calliber to have examined about Ord Mantell before or shortly after arrival,” You mention, looking down at the young girl. If it was just her, you would have no issue letting Omega in. But the extremely tall trooper wasn’t exactly in your best sights currently. Sighing you step aside, gesturing to come inside. 

  “I have not had proper time to examine known information on-” Tech straightened up as you interrupted him. 

  “Save it. Just get inside. They get downright nasty. I may not like you very much, but I am also not a monster who’s going to let you get electrocuted in the streets,” you scoffed at him, allowing the pair to pass through your flat’s entryway. 

  “Wow you have your own room!” Omega joyfully exclaimed, rushing around to look at your sparse belongings and wall decorations. Some random plans, some spare parts, a few drawings, a few photos - nothing abnormal. 

  “I can’t say I make it up here most nights to actually enjoy it, so apologies about the mess,” you hush out. Tech’s eyes were wide as he had trained them onto the back of your small sofa. Getting closer you realized what caused his nervousness as a bra tossed over the back came into view from where you’d flung it one evening. Crossing ahead of him, you reached for it, shoving it into the cushions. 

  While Tech commed back to the rest of their team, informing them the plan to wait out the normal evening storm here, you double checked no other artifacts of awkward origins to be lingering about. 

  The apartment wasn’t much, just a bed in the back corner behind a screen, a small kitchen with one burner and a stove, along side a small refrigeration unit. A refresher behind a door right at the entry way and some sparse furniture. Mostly, the space just spilled over spare parts from downstairs. 

  “Omega stop meddling in belongings that are not yours, it’s rude” Tech warned as he came back from discussing with Hunter. Omega hadn’t sat still, running around your flat as new items of interest took over her young mind. 

  “She’s fine,” you tell him, leaning against a wall looking at how he shifted slightly under your scrutiny. 

  “Tech look! It’s our ship!” Omega shouted from near one of the windows and he moved towards her, assuming her to be pointing outside in the direction of the hanger, but as he got closer he saw a small model of the standard ship, along with some drawings on the wall. 

  “Well, technically Omega we use a heavily modified version and this is the standard model of the-” he started as you chuckled. 

  “Omicron Class Attack Shuttle,” You tell him, coming to stand on the other side of Tech. 

  “How do you know have these? They are for military usage only, and I calculate the probability of one ending up here during the war to be quite low,” Tech asked. 

  “She helped design it.” Omega mentioned very plainly as Tech’s eyes bulged, turning to the young girl in time to see her fingers pointing towards some of your old sketches, signature and date marked many moons ago. 

  “But that-” he came closer to what Omega pointed out, heart beat picking up as he realized not only had he flown a ship you apparently helped design, but he had just earlier insulted your knowledge of mechanics. 

  “Was a lifetime ago. But yes. I used to live on Coruscant and worked as an engineer. Until contracts for civilians dried up. When I left, my ship had a malfunction and this was the safest planet to land for repairs. Haven’t left.” You explain to him, shifting the weight back off the injured toe, which you could feel swelling in the confines of your sock. 

  “These drawings do not match the standard regulation manuels for the shuttle. Why are they different? They closer resemble some of the modifications I have personally installed.” Tech asked you, fingers tracing over the worn schematics as he noted a different configuration for the main compressor and hyperdrive. 

  “I was only a junior engineer at the time. My supervisor demanded the changes be made no matter how much I protested. That’s why I was surprised to hear you boys fly one, but I suppose your modifications have extended it’s life. The changes my team made were less than ideal. But still, it’s my favorite ship I’ve designed,” you explain, feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety to bring up the past like this. 

  “Fascinating… What other ships have you designed if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked without looking up from the remnants of your old work. 

  “There’s a data pad right there on the table. Not sure if it’s got enough power to charge up, but it has the schematics of what I worked on. I’ll warn you, it’s mostly shuttles for senators or higher ranking military personale. Not many are military craft,” you explain pointing out the data pad, noting the Omega had disappeared from view, finding her sitting on the sofa as she smiled and waved to you. 

  Moving across the apartment you sat next to her, curious why 4 clones were traveling with a child. 

  “So what’s your story kid?” You ask her, watching as Tech poked around your small corner of relics from time spent as an engineer, his fingers picking up some of the small models as he continued to flip through the data pad he got working with a small transportable battery pack, muttering out undistinguishable words ever few moments. 

  You split your attention between half listening to Omega’s explanation of how she was a clone like the others to watching Tech’s half smile as he glanced over your old work. Strangely enough when he wasn’t insulting you, he was handsome. Different from other clone’s you’d met in the fact his face was more angularly and thin. Hair and skin lighter in color than the others, he looked so familiar and yet so unique. 

  Suddenly a weight on your shoulder broke you out of the trance you had developed as you stared at Tech, who was still distracted as he propped himself up against the wall. Omega, having fallen asleep, was leaning on you as her breathing evened out. 

  You knew sleep wouldn’t come with the strange clones in your apartment so you carefully lifted her, as she weighted very little, and began to move her towards your bed. Least you could do was let her sleep on a real bed for the first time in a while. Tech’s eyes flashed when he saw the movement, not saying anying as he watched you carry her.  Setting down the datapad he realized you would not be able to move the privacy screen while your arms were occupied, so he adjusted it out of the way as you bent a bit to set the young girl on the bed, pulling the recently washed covers up around her. 

  Omega’s eyes cracked open slightly as she smiled and snuggled down into the bed before drifting back to sleep, the two of you bearing witness to how sweet she looked as sleep overtook her young body. Nodding your head he stepped aside, allowing you both to leave the designated area for the bed and he once again closed the screen. 

  “You did not have to do that, my calculations show that the storm is likely to pass within the next few hours,” Tech whispered as you shrugged. 

  “When was the last time she slept in a real bed?” You challenged. 

  “Point taken. I do have several questions on various ships I examined while looking through your datapad, but I feel it inappropriate to ask given I insulted you earlier,” He said in a hushed breath as you nodded. 

  “So how do you plan to rectify that hotshot?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to shift your tone to playful as you nudged his shoulder, forgetting he had on plastoid as it made contact and immediately stung.

  “I am uncertain. I do not have data to base interactions such as this upon in order to determine the best possible course of action,” He whispered out as you sighed, going to put on the kettle. 

  “It’s as simple as saying you are apologetic,” you explain to him calmly, realizing now that perhaps Tech lacked some social awareness despite that big brain of his.  You were used to it in the field of engineers. Kind people who weren’t always the most adept at dealing with emotions.  

  Tech’s eyes watched as you began to heat up water on the stove, the slight hobble in your step still apparent. 

  “I apologize for being rude. You are still injured from earlier,” he nodded to your foot. 

  “I’ll live. But thank you for your apology. Tea? Calf? What’s your poison?” You ask him nodding to the water. 

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to trouble you with either on my behalf,” he said simply as you rolled your eyes. 

  “It's no trouble at all. Besides with how nasty those electrical storms are you are going to want to get comfortable. Feel free to take off the plastoid, I can’t imagine it’s pleasant to be in all the time,” you tell him. 

  He simply stands, not wanting to argue, carefully removing the pieces and stacking them in a neat pile on the floor. You take out two mugs from the cabinet, deciding that he seemed like more of a cheap ration calf man, much like yourself, so you spoon it into the cups and pour the water on top before setting one down in front of him before grabbing the sugar from the pantry and setting it out. 

  “Thank you,” Tech mentioned, ignoring the sugar and just began to sip it as is. 

  “No problem, so these questions?” you came to sit on the adjacent barstool, nodding towards the schematics he had pulled up. 

  Tech felt his stomach drop seeing you so close, leaning over the holopad ready to answer his questions when only an hour ago you were content to ring his neck out. Having someone to discuss his area of expertise with was rare, especially not someone so pretty… 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  Several rotations and jobs for Cid under the Batch’s belt, you’d formed a very unique relationship with the clone to say the least. When getting along, things were great. However, you still occasionally found yourself frustrated with his affinity for saying things, while true, that came off as callus or dismissive. 

  Such as the most recent issue. Tech let you poke around the modifications he’d made to their ship in some down time, during which you pointed out a better alternative for the power cufflinks. This led the man to get defensive, jumping to an explanation that once again challenged your expertise. Leading to a speedy exit from the hanger and ignoring his feeble attempts at knocking on your door, Tech left Ord Mantell to meet Rex on Bracca with you still very much angry at him. 

  He’d sent a message, to which you ignored on the private com channel he set up for you, as you warned the boys that while you adored Cid, she wasn’t particularly known for being trustworthy. Despite your occasional frustration at times with Tech’s less than appealing behavior, you didn’t want anything bad to happen to them. 

  Going off-world for an unknown amount of time to remove a device that might cause us to lose bodily autonomy and certain cognitive functions that were part of our programming. It is imperative we do so, however there are unknowns with such a procedure. Things may not go according to plan. ~ Tech

  You didn’t respond, set in your stubbornness as you ignored his message that matter of factly stated his plans. Your largest complaint about the man, despite his very kind nature overall, was that he struggled admitting he was wrong or had hurt your feelings. 

  After a few hours you received another ping. 

  Landed and waiting to meet our contact. ~ Tech

  You sigh, continuing to twist the bolt holding together the maintenance droid someone recently allowed you to have, trying to fix the pile of scrap so you could gain some relief with fulfilling projects. 

  Another ping came in less than an hour later. 

  I apologize for once again hurting your pride. I am unused to dealing with those who are not my brothers, and they have acclimated themselves to my more undesirable traits. It is not an excuse, but please know that I am attempting to correct such habits in the name of maintaining our friendship, as it is something I am coming to value. ~ Tech

  You look at the screen. He was trying his best and you could recognize that. It softened the anger you felt. You weren’t fully ready to discuss with him however, leaving the message open on your tablet, losing yourself in the work in front of you as your mind tried to form a proper response. 

  [Incoming message from Tech]

  Wrecker’s inhibitor chip activated. Things were more intense than I initially anticipated. He did not hesitate to try and harm us. Omega was frightened by his actions, however no one was injured beyond him briefly rendering me unconscious. That being said, I am fine. We are waiting for him to wake up. Still unsure the safety of this procedure as his vitals have not stabilized. I will continue to keep you posted even if you are neglecting to respond. ~ Tech

  Staring at the screen the sudden concern for the safety of their team outweighed you silly argument with Tech, fingers forming a response, and hitting send despite the several crafted responses you had spent the last hours mentally cataloging. 

  From the ruins of the jedi cruiser on Bracca, Tech was surprised as he saw an incoming response from you, sitting up immediately as he read it. 

  I am sorry for not responding. I needed time to mentally process your apology, as your words do hurt sometimes. That being said, we do not have to discuss things further. I hope Omega is doing better. I cannot imagine how frightening that must have been for her. Tell her she's got a girl's only night when she returns filled with all the street food her heart desires. Let me know when Wrecker wakes up. Please try and stay safe. Drinks are on me when you all get back to Ord Mantell. 

  Tech smiled down at the message, leaning back some in the seat. He didn’t want to push his luck by responding to you. You were kind enough to offer an olive branch and accept his apology once more.

  Soon Wrecker woke up, prompting the others to take turns removing their chips. Tech wasn’t sure why he felt the need to wait to be last. Perhaps he wanted confirmation that things would be alright? Perhaps he was more nervous than he anticipated. But when it was finally his turn to lay down, his last thought before drifting off was of a pretty mechanic back on their new home waiting for him. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  “This is the Havoc-Marauder - *static* please, come in,” the vocal element of your com began blaring through the otherwise quiet shop as you continued to repair projects. Boosting the signal you reached down to the tablet, pressing the button, trying to figure out why the boys seemed so distressed. 

  Tech had informed you that they were all able to remove the inhibitor chips successfully and that they were going to attempt to recover valuable assets from the ship before their departure. Not worried about the plan, you were surprised to hear the fear in their voices as you waited for a response. 

  “The empire showed up and in the chaos of it all, a bounty hunter named Cad Bane took Omega and injured Hunter. We are trying to locate where they may have taken her, since it was off-world. Do you have any contacts who may know more? We can’t get a hold of Cid-” Echo spoke through the coms instead of Tech. 

  “Actually, I have more information that may be useful” came Tech’s faded voice from the back of the transmission, as you allowed him to speak. “Omega is more valuable than we realized,” Tech spoke, leading a winded Hunter to question why, as you held your breath waiting for information that may be useful. 

  “I further analyzed Omega’s genetic profile and discovered she has pure, first generation DNA-” Tech spoke, and while you weren’t fully versed in cloning or the Kamino process, you assumed that made her more valuable than the others. As Tech continued to explain for the others to understand, you reached over for the long range transmitter and sent a message to an old friend, who quickly read and began typing. 

  “If she’s vital to the Kaminoans cloning operation, they must have put the bounty on her-” you heard Echo say, confirming the suspicions you already had. 

  “So how do we find this bounty Hunter?” Wrecker grumbled just in time for you to speak up. 

  “I may have an idea, if anyone’s up for it-” you offer, wishing more than anything the boys were in range to see them instead of just hear them. Something about putting eyes on them would’ve been a comfort, but you’d settle for their voices. 

  “That is why we contacted you, so please,” Hunter mentioned. 

  “Well, I had a friend back when I was on Coruscant. She worked closely with the cloning operations medical staff, and was transferred to Coruscant at the start of the war. She said there’s several decommissioned Kaminoan facilities throughout the galaxy. If the Kaminoans are the one’s after Omega, shouldn’t they want a secure location that only they are aware of? At the very least, it’s a starting point. She was able to inform me of 3 she knew about. Two in close proximity to your location. The other is closer to Ord Mantell if you wish for me to check it out-” you explain only to have Tech cut you off. 

  “Negative. With a bounty hunter as dangerous as Cad Bane I do not wish for you to go anywhere near that facility. Transmit the coordinates and we shall examine the closer one’s first-” he said. 

  “If Omega is at that facility, you all will miss her transfer between the bounty hunter and Kaminoans. That’s not worth chancing it. I can decide what risks I wish to undertake on my own-” your voice raises to accommodate the frustration you feel.

  “Regardless it is not a job you should undertake given your skillset is not that of combat,” he tells you, the others growing silent as you dismiss his concerns. 

  “I am transmitting the coordinates. See you all when you get back. Let me know if something happens.” You state bluntly, and as Tech goes to question you once more, you cut the call, not wanting to hear his concerns. You didn’t want Omega injured or removed from her brothers. He wasn’t going to stop you from looking. That wasn’t Tech’s call to make.

  Quickly rushing around the messy flat, you collected what you through you may need before going down to the hanger which held your rusty bucket of bolts. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Rarely having time to work on it, you knew the ship needed a massive overhaul, but that could come after you saved Omega. 

  It was when you came out of hyperspace in your small shuttle that you received another transmission. 

  “Omega was able to get away from the bounty hunter but we aren’t sure for how long she’ll be free. She is at the location closer to Ord Mantell, in the Lido system but we are uncertain if we will reach it in time-” Hunter spoke feverishly as you looked down at the planet’s surface. 

  “Then it’s a good thing I am already here,” you tell them, flying close by to the facility seeing three ships already landed, meaning the transfer was happening or soon to be over, and that a possible third party was involved.

  “I thought I cautioned you to stay on Ord Mantell where it was safe,” Tech said, anger laced in his tone as you set the ship down on an abandoned platform, reaching for the baster you kept on you at all times. You may not be the best at fighting, but you did have the ability to cloak, as you developed a small experimental hood that utilized the same technology as your cloaked shuttle. It would have to be enough to locate Omega and hope you all could slip away from the bounty hunter before someone realized you were here.

  “You did. But it’s a good thing I elected to ignore it. Do hurry, I will try and find Omega or at the very least stall until you all can reach the system. Over-” you called, turning off the device so that the sound would not give you away and slipped outside. 

  You didn’t make it very far before you heard shouting and Omega fell onto the platform adjacent to your own after awkwardly riding atop a small droid - possibly a techno service droid but it was too far away to notice. Rushing towards her before she could get very far, you removed the hood disguising your head. 

  “Omega!” you shouted, drawing her attention as she turned and quickly ran back in your direction, a small limp in her step which must have occurred at some point during her escape.

  “You came for me!” she leapt into your arms, as you reached for a small multitool from your belt to cut her binders. 

  “Of course I did, your brothers aren’t that far behind, we need to get out of her-” you started, only to be cut off as you watched in horror. The droid, which Omega was running from, had activated a panel on the platform your ship was on, causing it to fall into the ocean depths below, preventing your escape.

  “I just paid that off,” you cried watching it fall as Omega dragged you down a small set of stairs, noting the pods for escaping the Kaminan facility just ahead. 

  “I’m sure Tech will help you fix a new one, we need to hurry, the bounty hunter who tried to get me on Pantora is here fighting the one who took me. We don’t have much time” she mentioned, the two of you cramming into the pod before one of the bounty hunters could emerge. 

  Just as the pod was activated however, the little droid who destroyed your shuttle appeared in the viewport, demanding to know where you were going. Omega didn’t respond, angrily typing until the pod launched, her falling into your lap and you held her tightly and the droid flew out of the view. 

  “Do we have any control over this thing?” You demanded to know, the little girl turning in your lap as she shook her head no, loud blaring of an emergency alarm filling the pod. 

  “Alright, we aren’t going to panic. If we survive the landing your brothers will be here soon enough okay? So just hold on-” you try to reassure her, running a gentle hand through her hair as you continue to fall towards the ocean. Not sure if you even believed your attempt at calming her, you didn’t want your final moments to be filled with fear before the unknown of what came after all this. 

  “I’m scared-” she said quietly, eyes closing as she snuggled into you. You didn’t respond, pulling her close, the scent of blaster fire lingering on her frame. You were going to be okay. The boys weren’t close behind. Everything would be fine-

  Suddenly a loud thud came over the top of the pod, stalling the descent. Pulling the blaster you looked up, pushing Omega as far behind you as it would allow in the cramped space, ready to shoot if it was the bounty hunter who’d locked onto the escape pod. When it opened however, and the smoke cleared, Wrecker leaned his face into view. 

  “Omega?! Are you in there?” He shouted, looking down as his eyes landed on the both of you. Putting the gun back at your side you lifted her into his waiting arms. Once she was being lifted out of the pod, you began climbing the small ladder, as Wrecker welcomed her back. 

  “Tech your girlfriend is in here too-” he said cheerfully, Echo reaching down to help pull you out as well. 

  “Wrecker that is inappropriate as we are not courting-” Tech yelled from the cockpit as you found footing inside their ship. Hunter, who was still heavily bandaged turning to you as Omega greeted Echo from within Wrecker’s arms. 

  “You came to help. Why?” He asked you, pain still evident in his voice from whatever injuries he sustained. 

  “Because she needed it.  I didn’t really do much if I am honest, just covered her exit-” you explained as Omega solemnly looked at you, tears welling in her eyes. 

  “I am so sorry about your ship,” she said as you shook your head. 

  “Don’t worry about it kid. Ships are replaceable. You aren’t.” You told her, ruffling her hair as she made her way to Hunter. Suddenly the waterworks started and he checked on her as you moved back, to allow them a reunion. You couldn’t imagine how frightening it must have been for her the last few days. 

  “Thank you for helping us find her. We would not have been able to do so in a timely manner had it not been for you.” Echo complimented.

  “No need to thank me,” you began, only to have a clearing throat behind you prevent you from speaking further. Tech was leaning up against the wall leading into the cockpit, his face turned completely to the side, facing the control panel. 

  “If you’ll excuse me-” you told Echo, following Tech's stomping footsteps as he led you into the cockpit, promptly shutting the door behind you to allow privacy. 

  “Before you berate me can you at least-” you started, only to feel arms pull you, quite awkwardly, into a plastoid covered chest. 

  His helmet was off. You could tell by the way his breath ruffled your hair gently as he leaned his face down along the top of your head. Once the initial shock wore off, your arms moved behind him, tightening around his back in that section between his armor and utility belt, feeling the warmth as his body gave off from beneath the black suit. 

  Sure he was a bit musky from having gone a few rotations without a refresher to clean up, but he was here, solid and strong. Under the lingering scent of sweat, ash, and grime you could smell that GAR issued soap they kept on board, which always clung to him and became apparent when you leaned in to see the datapad over his shoulder. 

  “Thank you. Despite being reckless, your actions and intel were able to help us retrieve Omega,” he whispered against your hairline, his lips barely brushing the skin there as he spoke. The featherlike contact, making you shiver, goosebumps raising along your skin. 

  Not anticipating his gratitude, you didn’t respond initially, soaking up the rare affection as you noticed Tech didn’t often seem to enjoy people in his personal space. Any time you got too close he’d clear his throat, shifting away. Any time you’d accidentally brush your fingers against his own, he’d wipe his gloved palms over his thighs as if to remove any traces of you. This jump to initiating contact catching you off guard. 

  “I don’t regret anything. She’s safe. That’s all that matters,” you tell him, fingers finding the area just below the chest plate as you rub your hand up and down his back slowly, as if to test the waters. He doesn’t say anything, even if it did bother him, as you remain there for a moment longer. 

  “While Omega is a large priority of mine, I argue that your safety is also important,” he said, uncertainty laced in his voice. 

  “Well, that’s good to hear. I am glad you all are safe. I was worried when you said Wrecker temporarily went rogue.” You admit to him, removing your cheek from the harsh chestplate, putting your forehead there instead. Removing your arms from behind him, you prepared to end the embrace, despite not really wanting to. 

  “We are fine,” he said softly, noticing you pulling back as he dropped his hands slowly. 

  “Really? All here now? No missing limbs-” you start to tease as you pull away, finally catching a glimpse of him as you chuckle. “Oh. Missing hair though it would seem-” you point up, noticing the way he now sported a shaved patch on almost the entirety of one side of his head, where a small bandage covered a section just back from his temple. 

  Tech’s gloved fingers immediately sought out the side of his head, grazing the patch as he looked down, almost embarrassingly as his arm fell back to his side. 

  “Rather unfortunate but it’ll grow back. Although, Echo did take off more than I believe to have been necessary. Small price to pay for the removal of those chips. After seeing what it did to Wrecker, I do not mind having the peace of knowing that it will not affect me in the future-” He began to ramble, only to trail off as he noticed you lean up some, inspecting his hair with an unreadable expression. “Something wrong?” he asked, uneasiness setting in.

  Not responding, you looked closer. Reaching your hand up gently, fingertips tracing a similar path that his own had, his eyes growing wide as you inspected the short hairs now on that side of his head, which contradicted the opposing side, where it remained slicked back. Small smile on your face as your hand fell away, but you kept close proximity to his stunned face. 

  “Not at all. I don’t hate it actually,” you slyly smile as his eyebrows shoot up in response. 

  “I find that hard to believe-” he states plainly as his eyes drift away momentarily before coming back to search for the truth. A part of him partly expects you to be playfully teasing him, as he’d come to accept that as part of your personality.

  “Be that as it may, if I were you, I’d consider keeping it,” you tell him honestly, eyes glancing back to his own from within the confines of his goggles. 

  “Really?” he pressed, uncertain as he imagined it looked horrid, since he’d only felt around for it with the chaos that persisted after they removed the chips. 

  “I like it. It’s rugged in a way that is quite handsome,” you tell him honestly, stepping back from the almost trance you were in caused by the change in his appearance. Your cheeks burning red at the honesty you had spoken. The quick departure from his personal space made you miss the mirroring pair of pink tinted cheeks on the soldier. 

  “Oh,” he said, almost surprised as you turned away to rejoin the others. When you opened the door back to the main hull you barely heard Tech’s soft voice say, “fascinating…” as his fingers once again grazed his short hair with a childlike grin gracing his face. 

  ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

  You were going to kill Cid. That was, assuming the Pykes didn’t kill you first. Not only had she conspired to have the bad batch steal spice to get rid of Roland Durand, who had moved in and taken the city in their absence. Fortunately your shop, not valuable without your knowledge of how to use the spare parts, had been spared, but not Cid’s. 

  When things had gone south, they lost the spice in an old mine shaft filled with a hive of irlings. Returning to the parlor, Omega were held in order to make the boys co-operate, and yourself to make Cid. 

  Hands bound next to the Devaronian male who instigated the whole situation, you couldn’t fully fault his anxiety. If the batch wasn’t able to recover the spice, you were as good as dead. So was Omega. Which is why you put your trust in them, praying to the maker Tech could figure out a solution that left you all to walk away. 

  You tried to remove the image of Tech’s very angry face as the leader of the Pykes told them that Omega and you would remain with them as collateral, his eyes snapping to yours as his hand reached for the pistol on his hip and held it up ready to fire without a second thought. Something about it was so incredibly protective. As someone who’d been on their own for such a long time, it made your stomach swarm with butterflies. 

  “Don’t try it. They’ll kill you,” Roland warned, your eyes snapping to Omega who was eying an abandoned gun on the floor near where you were all bound. 

  “I hate to agree but he’s right,” you whispered, gesturing for her to stay put. If there’s one thing you knew, it was to not mess with the Pykes. 

  “If your friends don’t return with the spice, we’re all dead. That’s what happens when you meddle in other people’s business,” he said very pessimistically. 

  “Us? You’re the one who took Cid’s parlor from her-” Omega began to argue, and not wishing to participate in their spat, you leaned your head back.

  Ever since you all had rescued Omega from the bounty hunter, things had been different with you and Tech. Not incredibly so. He resumed the distance physically he always kept between you. It seemed he truly didn’t wish to invade your space and kept you from doing the same. That being said, there had not been an argument to date. Not even a slip of tongue from him that indicated a lack in your skills. 

  A part worried that he regretted it, or was possibly trying to keep you from making another advancement. You aren’t sure why you had complimented him, and despite the positive reaction it seemed to warrant, things had gotten somewhat stagnant. More awkward when you were alone, as if he was unsure. At this rate you left it in his court to decide. You made up your mind some time ago in that cockpit that you had feelings for the man, regardless of if he returned them. 

  You hoped he did. After all, he had decided to keep his hair buzzed down on the sides once it began growing back in, since you mentioned that you found it attractive, the shorter hair accentuating his more prominent features like his sharp jaw or chiseled cheekbones. That’s got to count for something, right? And when they were away on missions, he still messaged when he could check in or chat on long flights. You assumed that was a good sign. 

  There had also been an uptick in time he spent at your shop or flat. Sure, the others did as well. Omega often came by since she needed escapes from her brothers. Wrecker loving to come pilfer food from your pantry. Echo occasionally needed help with malfunctions in his mechanical arm or legs. Hunter was the one you saw the least, and never alone, but he tended to keep to himself. However Tech was there at seemingly every free moment he had - fixing stuff alongside you in the shop, occasionally reading up on manuals late at night in your flat as you briefly spoke about ideas for projects to help their jobs with Cid. 

  Just as nightfall began you all were ushered to the hanger, the Marauder visible you were pushed outside, landing on your knees next to Rolland and Omega. The boys exited the ship, Cid on their tails as Wrecker began to unload the spice. Glancing up at Tech’s worried eyes you felt relief knowing that the hard part was over. 

  Once Wrecker unloaded the last crate, one of the Pyke’s came behind you, knife in hand as you grew nervous. The Pykes weren’t galactically known for playing fair, and with Omega off to the side, you worried that they might punish you for Cid’s rash actions. 

  Tech watched, fingers reaching for his weapon as he saw the fear in your eyes. You made eye contact with him once more as you waited for whatever outcome may present itself, hoping that they would do their best to take care of you if it got ugly. Feeling movement on your wrists, you were relieved when they cut the bindings, pushing you forward. 

  “Since the spice has been returned, the matter between us is resolved,” they spoke, as you reached forward, Tech’s hand pulling you next to him as Hunter grabbed Omega. From over Cid’s head, you watched as they weren’t finished with the Devaronian, and you didn’t really care watching him deal with their anger. 

  “Are you unharmed?” Tech’s eyes found yours as you stabilize yourself, nodding to him. From the corner of your eye the others attempted to defuse the situation, to no avail as Roland had one of his horns shorn and the Pykes left. 

  The way Cid turned, offering everyone drinks as if she hadn’t looped you all into her mess, angered you. She’d almost gotten you, Omega, and the other’s killed because she wasn’t strong enough to stand up for herself in the face of a gangster. 

  Fire and brimstone in your blood, you felt your hands shaking as you let go of Tech’s arm. “I just want to go home,” you said, pushing his armored chest and began stomping away from the others, who were heading inside the Parlor, excited things had worked out. 

  Tech watched your retreating form, understanding your frustration but confused as to why you hadn’t wanted to celebrate with the others. After all, things had worked out, no one was injured. His voice calling your name wasn’t enough to halt your exit from the hanger, as you continued walking away from him. 

  Tech shot a glance at the others before diverting from their path to follow you back to your apartment, quicking his strides as he attempted to gain on you. You weren’t really sure why you kept on, ignoring his calls for you to wait. Perhaps anger at Cid. Maybe frustration at the situation. Or a feeling you couldn't quite put your finger on - either way you kept walking, rushing up the stairs as he was hot on your heels. 

  Just as you opened the door to your flat with a shoosh, Tech shoved his foot in the door before you could close it, pushing his way inside before you could lock him out. A bit presumptuous, but a small part of you felt relief seeing him make it in before you shut the world out. 

  “You heard me calling after you,” he said bluntly. 

  “I did,” you tell him, catching your breath from running, scowling when you realized that he didn’t have the same issue. Curse those genetically modified lungs. 

  “So why did you keep going?” He asked you, staring down at you. His helmet still held in his hands as you shifted your weight to the other leg, uncertain how to answer. 

  “I am not sure,” you tell him honestly. He pauses, before speaking. 

  “Do you wish for me to leave?” 

  You shake your head. 

  “Do you wish for me to stay with you?” 

  You nod. 

  He lets out a deep breath, setting the helmet on the table right near the door and probing his temple with his extremely long fingers. 

  “Should we just sit? Talk? What can I do? I need direction on how you wish to proceed,” he quietly begged as he set down the heavy backpack and removed the utility belt. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here and easily began stripping down to his blacks. 

  You didn’t respond, using your toes to put pressure on each of your heels as you slipped out of the worn leather boots and made quiet footfalls to your bed, sitting on it as you looked out the window. The electrical storm your devices predicted would be starting any minute. Despite the more destructive tendency they had, you thoroughly enjoyed watching them - even if they knocked out the power temporarily from time to time. 

  Tech watched you from near the entryway, your legs tucked up near your chest as you stared out the window, chin resting on your knees. Following behind you he made his way to your bed, neglecting how uncertain it felt as he lowered himself onto the comfortable surface. Never having sat on it before, he was surprised the way he sank into the plush material of your duvet. Sitting at the end of the bed, while you had propped yourself up near the wall, there was still a sizable distance between you both.  

  “We don’t have to talk if you do not wish, but may I try something-” he asked and you nodded, not tearing your eyes away from the first few flashes of light. 

  Gentle hands pried your shoulders away from where your legs were pushed up, as he pulled you back with ease. Positioning his body between yours and the wall, Tech arranged you between his long legs, leaning you back once more onto his chest. Arms dancing along your waist, he wasn’t sure if he should fully hold you or allow you to just rest against him, but something internal told him that this position was appropriate given the circumstances. 

  You made the call for him, pulling his arms up across your chest, sinking back into him more, eyes drifting close momentarily as he brushed the hair from your right shoulder to over your left. Soon his nose found the back of your neck as he leaned into your body, picking up the faint hint of the perfume you must’ve applied there hours ago. 

  “I am sorry that you got caught in the crossfire between Cid, Roland and the Pykes,” he whispered against your skin. 

  “It’s Cid’s fault, not yours,” you whisper, enjoying the way his exhales felt against the delicate skin of your neck. He doesn’t speak immediately, pulling you tighter to his chest as you feel his heartbeat along your back.  

  “Had we not agreed to assist in stealing the spice to begin with, none of it would not have occurred the way in which it did,” Tech admitted the error in judgment which nearly cost you and Omega your lives. 

  “You were trying to help out Cid-” you tried to reason.

  “Which would’ve destroyed me if you had gotten hurt due to my poor decision to do so,” he whispered. 

  “Why is that Tech?” you whisper back, eyes watching the electrical storm pick up outside the window. 

  Once again he let the silence linger. Nervous to speak or not wanting to hurt your feelings with his response - you couldn’t be quite sure. Turning slightly, so that your shoulder rested against his chest to look at his face for answers. With the reflection of the window you couldn’t see his eyes.

  Deciding to be brave if he wasn’t, you lifted your hands, fingers probing the edges of the goggles that always adorned his face as you quietly asked, “may I?” He only nodded as you lifted them very carefully up and over his head, setting them down on the bed next to you. His eyes had closed when you started to lift them, so you had yet to see his eyes unobstructed. Not pushing him you turned back towards the window, allowing him to speak when he gathered the nerve. 

  “I don’t like the thoughts of you getting hurt because I-” he started to murmur once more, a baited breath entering your lungs and staying there as you waited for him to continue. The air stinging your lungs as you realized he had paused once more, softly blowing it back out past your lips as you repeated the action once more. 

  Tech gathered as much nerve as humanly possible. He could easily be thrust into high stress scenarios. Battles? No issues. Firefights with gangsters? He always had a plan. But when it came to you? He had no baseline to establish it from. Sure he had been intimate before with strangers when the opportunity presented itself. He found it to usually lead to an unsatisfying place in which he was pretending to be something he wasn’t. Usually forcing himself to touch them despite feeling repulsed at being that close with someone. But when he was in proximity to you things were different. 

  That spark of electricity often cited as being drawn out by a member of the opposite gender was present, catching him off guard every time your fingers crossed paths. He found your sweet aroma to be so intoxicating. The flash of your smile, utterly adorable. The face you made when you concentrated on a repair - where your tongue darted out of the corner of your full lips - to be nearly stunting. Everything about you he found captivating. 

  I care for you. 

  You almost didn’t hear him whisper it, as the volume was so minimal it barely passed over his lips audibly. Turning to face him once more, you saw the nervous eyes of a caged animal, finally unguarded by those yellow frames. 

  Brown. But not dark and unwavering like Hunters or tinged with the grayish hue of Echo’s. Wreckers one good eye had a more blue undertone and Omega’s were nearly hazel. But Tech  - Tech’s resembled honey. His iris illuminated with each flash of lightning from outside the window. And then suddenly, with a bright flash, the power went out, leaving you both in the dark as you continued to remain in his arms. Only sound being the matching pair of unsteady breathing.

  “Tech…?” you whispered, while he looked back down at your anticipating face. 

  “Yes?” Tech questioned, knots in his stomach as you hadn’t responded to his admission of caring for you. 

  “Would you do something for me?” you posed the question. 

  Tech was certain you were going to kick him out, despite the storm, or at the very least make him go downstairs to leave you alone. Your silence only told him that you were likely formulating a way to let him down gently because surely someone one like you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was a clone. Clones stole your promising future. He frequently was unaware how to speak to you. His frustrations occasionally came out poorly as his jealousy for your knowledge plagued his mind. His blunt nature, often at odds with your proper socialization. You were perfect and he was just a copy of a man who was long gone, and a relic of an army that had been corrupted. 

  Distracted by his racing mind he almost didn’t hear you whisper it at the conclusion of his small nod. 

  Kiss me. 

  Tech did a double take, his attention snapping to you as your eyes locked with his own.  He couldn’t stop the lump that formed in his throat as your angelic eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. The distance between you insurmountable as, despite the seated position, he would always tower over you. His gangly limbs and narrow frame creating such a divergence between your sizes.

  “You want me to-” 

“Kiss me. Please.” You begged, eyes trying to catch his own to reassure him it is what you wanted. 

  You were growing concerned with the way his mind seemed to still be running astray. Perhaps he meant he cared for you in a similar way that he did Omega. Oh maker, what if he meant it that way. Suddenly you were glad the lights were off. That way he couldn’t see your crumbling self esteem and wavering confidence. You were certain when he spoke the way he had, paired with the many small moments mounting over the last months, that he liked you. Only now to realize he most likely hadn’t meant it in a non romantic way. 

  “Tech, I am so-” you began only to have his warm, ungloved hand find purchase on the side of your cheek, lips meeting yours in fury. 

  The first thing you noticed, when the shock wore off, was that his lips were so incredibly soft. How could a soldier, constantly on the run from danger, be this plush and inviting? That sharp wit and wise energy always spilling past these lips - the same ones that insulted you when you first met - now on your own in a heated embrace. 

  Soft sighs exiting your lips, entering his mouth as Tech opened his own to invite tongues to this lovely endeavor. He had hardly needed to caress your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before you both fell into that wonderful song and dance of exploring each other’s mouths. 

  Breaking away due to the unfortunate need for air, you tried to see him the best you could with the limited lighting situation. His hand falling to the side of your neck instead of on your cheek, he pulled your forehead towards his, resting his nose against your own. Eyes searching yours for any sign to end this interaction. 

  “You are the most enchanting woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he admitted with a small chuckle, almost embarrassed of the words falling out of his mouth. Surely they resembled the words of a love drunken fool, not a soldier and engineer such as himself.  Perhaps that is because they came from his heart, not his logical mind. 

  “Please do that again,” you beg him, a smile working its way on your face as you trail a hand up his chest, finding stability by wrapping it around the back of his neck. Your breathing having leveled out from the heated exchange, just as he instigated another one. 

  This time, he didn’t wait to request entrance to your mouth, tongue slipping in almost immediately. As soon as he began kissing you once more, your hand traveled up into the brown locks that sat just against his collar, tangling in them, separating the obnoxious gel he insisted on using to keep it from matting inside his helmet. It made you long to see him first thing in the morning or right after getting out of the refresher - when his hair was wild and carefree. 

  That wasn’t the only thing that you wanted to come undone as he effortlessly pulled you from being on the bed in front of him into his lap, legs going around his thighs as you perched yourself against him. Tech’s wandering hands began as soon as your bottom left the bed, his large palm tracing over the skin of your clothed ass, caressing it before his fingers flexed, digging into the roundness as he groaned into your mouth. 

  Tech, despite his reservations for touching anyone, had always enjoyed the roundness of an ass under his feelings. Especially an unclothed one. His brothers, arguing for a pair of breasts as more appealing, but he would always remain on the team that supported his large hands grabbing the meat of an ass.  

  For someone so lanky, and much thinner than his brothers, Tech certainly had a hidden strength to his frame that you hadn’t anticipated. Briefly on display as he lifted you into his lap with ease, he continued to further prove his ability as his demanding hands found your hips and squeezed, bicep flexing as your free hand landed on his left arm. 

  You aren’t sure what possessed you to do it either, but breaking away from his lips as you trailed kisses over his cheekbones until you found the skin of his earlobe, nibbling it between your teeth all while he groaned. Watching the always poised and put together pilot turn to putty under your mouth and body, making that wet spot of arousal in your undergarments grow by the second. 

  As you continued to trail the nipping to his neck, you mumbled out something about his shirt being in the way, fingers reaching under the top near his lower back as you tried in vain to remove it from his body. Pulling back, since he had developed that unexplainable sense of urgency at your kissing, he stripped it away with skilled ease, tossing it to the floor with reckless abandon. 

  It was odd. When he normally removed the parts of his armor in your flat, they were carefully and methodically unlatched and organized in a neat pile. Now, rocking into his lap as you stared down into his wild eyes, the dynamic propelled into a direction you never could’ve dreamed. Something in the pair of you had shifted from just awkwardly maneuvering around each other to actively lighting that fuse within your bodies. 

  He didn’t allow you the chance to examine his unclothed top however, as he quickly reattached your lips to his, pulling you closer as his head tipped ever so slightly to the side, accommodating the clashing of teeth and tongues in the fury. Still anxious to know exactly what he was like under that thick black suit or vest he always wore, you allowed your fingers to act as your eyes in the moment, all while getting such a lovely taste of his mouth while you exhaled through your nose which was harshly pressed against his cheek from the intensity the kisses you’d both developed.

  Your hands trailed along his flamed but extremely solid body. Fingers finding purchase along the defined lines of his chest, and the valley that separated two pectorals that were much harsher than you would’ve anticipated given his much thinner frame. Sliding down, that same hand counted six definite sections in his abdomen as well, as you removed your lips from his in hast to such a much needed breath of air while your mind stilled. 

  Eyes finally seeing just how wonderful tanned skin of a soldier could be, you enjoyed the lovely view of dark hair trailing down just below his navel and into tight pants. The nearly vacant patch of hair along his chest meaning he either removed it or didn’t have it wasn’t a bother - you didn’t really love overly hairy men any way - as you gasp. He was the perfect blend of scars, moles, muscles, and… tattoos? 

  The chuckle that tore from your throat at the sight of black ink along his skin, was met with that ever so quizzical eyebrow as he flushed at your laugh. 

  “I must admit that laughter at the sight of one’s nakedness does not instill confidence,” he noted as you shook your head. 

  “I hadn’t expected you to have tattoos, it was more of a shock than a jest,” you comment, sliding back ever so slightly while remaining on his lap to get a good view. 

  “Why would you assume I would refrain from body modifications? You have seen Hunter’s face, and you’ve heard me mention our brother Crosshair-” he started as you placed your index finger along the seam of his lip, effectively silencing him with a sultry stare and the simple action. 

  “You just seem so much more straight laced than your brothers, I hadn’t expected you to cover yourself in something as trivial as artwork. But, that being said, I can’t help but find it so incredibly alluring…” you lean down to the simple ‘99’ tattooed along the same shoulder his armor detailed a similar marking, lips familiarizing yourself with the lines as you pulled back. 

  “I can assure you, despite my reserved nature, I am hardly straight laced, as you say,” he quipped, relinquishing the time he allowed you to study the marks in his bronze skin. He’d let you examine them some other time, possibly even with explanations of their origins. Right now, he was growing impatient. 

  Pulling you forward by the back of your neck, he changed his mind at the last moment, deciding that your collar bones sticking out of the shifted top you wore looked delectable, sucking them between his teeth as you squirmed along his lap once more. Satisfied with the mark it left in his wake, Tech found himself in your sex-hazed gaze once more. 

  “Tell me that you wish for this to continue. Please. I am not sure I can find it in myself to behave like a gentleman if you wish to stop much further than this,” he groaned, voice strained by a tone you had never heard from him. Tech’s voice was quite different from his brothers. The husky tone he now used, reminiscent of a crackling campfire as it came from the back of his throat, and laced itself into a pleasured groan. 

  “Please. I want this- I want you,” came your whisper into his jaw, lips grazing the sharp bone there.

  I want you. 

  Tech couldn’t remember a time he was truly wanted. Usually his hookups stemmed from mutual boredom or someone realizing his brothers weren’t interested in them. A system of happenstance, of convenience of simple chance and mutual need for release. But to be told that he was desired, and that an intimate connection was wanted with someone he actually cared for on a personal level? A first.  

  And as for you, you wouldn’t admit it out loud but things certainly got lonely on Ord Mantell. Those friends on Coruscant slowly lost interest once you departed, leaving you with just Cid and acquaintances. The rest of your time alone in a dingy workshop or flat hidden away from the world. That was until Tech and the others came around. He brought a sense of belonging you hadn’t known. He brought company you’d been craving. He made you feel seen, appreciated and cared for.

  He brought his hand up under your shirt and bra to cup your breast. 

  One of the first things you had noticed about him, all those rotations ago, was how long and dexterous his whole body was, but particularly his hands. Fingers so thin and nimble, wound with callouses, scars and distinguishable marks from his times tinkering. It had been rare to see him without gloves, but that barrier’s first time being removed showed just truly how captivating such a mundane body part could be. 

  These were the hands of a soldier. A man bred specifically for war. These were the hands of a pilot, who’s tight grip upon the steering wheel had saved thousands of lives. These were the hands of a fellow engineer and mechanic who understood the complexities of how your mind worked. These were the hands of a man who cared for you. 

  And those hands currently were squeezing your nipple with the perfect amount of firmness to make you purr. 

  Deciding that the only thing in the world you wished for right now was the feeling of his chest on your unclothed one, you pulled back, hands finding the bottom of your top as you flung it just as unceremoniously as he had done with his own. Tech wasted no time in finding the latches on your bra, unhooking the material and tossing it to the side as his hands finally held the weight of both your breasts within him. 

  Despite his larger than normal hand size, your breasts fit inside his palms like a perfect handful, while his thumbs continue that onslaught along your nipples, his lips finding that wonderful spot below your ear that makes you breathe heavily. 

  Your own hands, still running through his caramel locks while he worked your body with such expertise, tugging every now and again as he groaned against your neck between kisses and leaving smaller marks that would likely fade in only a few hours. 

  “Are you adequately protected?” came the husky question into your jaw, followed by another nip. 

  “Implant…” you hummed out, head falling to the side to accommodate his mouth as he snickered slightly in response. 

  Lifting you from his lap with no warning, Tech’s fingers found the latches of your pants with no problem, undoing them and tugging them down your legs as you wobbled from where you stood on the floor. Once they were lowered enough, Tech abruptly stood next to you, steading your arm as you stepped out of them, his feet stepping on the trousers in order to help you remove them easily. 

  Your face turned to meet his own, his body towering over your own as he looked down at you. Despite the full head’s distance between you both, and the darkness of the flat with the power being knocked out, you could still see the way his eyes darted from your full, unclothed breasts to the newly revealed skin of your legs. 

  One of his hands found purchase along your chin, tipping your face up even higher as you rose along your tiptoes to match his height the best you could. His other hand started along your mid back, trailing down until he found your panty clad rear, rubbing along the now exposed right cheek. 

  “Would you allow me to take charge here Mesh’la?” He asked gently, his hand still caressing your skin reverently, but despite the unexpected softness of the words and actions, you felt that with the look he gave you there was something more. Something almost predatory in his eyes. 

  “What does that mean?” you ask, unable to shake the curiosity at his use of the language you presumed to be Mando’a. 

  “Such an inquisitive mind you have…” he chuckled, using the hand on your chin to move your face to the side. Your eyes drifted close as he pressed a sweet his to the side of your face, trailing down more until he reached your ear. “I can’t get enough of that mind of yours,” he admitted, nibbling your earlobe once before continuing, hand tightening around your ass as the tone shifted. “Beautiful. It means beautiful. Which is exactly what you are, my mirdala girl…” he whispered so gently as he pulled back, hand dropping as he wound them both around your lower back. 

  “You keep using words I do not understand, and you have to realize I will continue to ask what they mean,” you tease with a small smile, hands finding his shoulders as you lock yourself in the embrace. Tech still had on trousers and you only had on underwear, but something about the stillness of it all, yet with contradictory the electrical storm raging outside, was strangely peaceful. Tearing clothes off one another and jumping into bed was one thing, but this, this was building towards something much more intimate. 

  “Clever. I called you my clever girl,” he nods your direction, fingers trailing up and down the expanse of your exposed back ever so slightly. 

  “Ah,” you thrum out as your lips tug at the corner into a small smirk, barely visible in the low lighting. “Your clever girl? I wasn’t aware you had claimed me. Sounds a bit possessive don’t you think?” 

  “I suppose it could be considered possessive, although I do not see you running away from the notion. I am to assume that not only are you fine with that, but based on the way your grip in my hair has just tightened and your pupils have dilated, that you want that. That you want me to claim you in some way,” he notes, and you realize he is correct. His attunement to your body language is uncanny as you hadn’t realized you had done so. Unable to form a response, you nod gently. 

  “If you wish for me to stop, at any point, all you need to do is say so. Do you understand,” Tech let one hand fall from your back, reaching for his belt and once again you nodded, causing him to pause. 

  “Verbally. I want verbal consent. You can do that for me right my clever girl?” he used the phrase once again and you shuttered. Something about the way his voice dribbled with arousal in the fact he found your mind to be brilliant brought forth a surge of confidence. 

  “Yes. I trust you Tech,” you speak calmly and clearly despite the shaking in your hands. Anticipation building to the point your body could not contain the excitement of what he had planned. 

  You barely caught the smirk on his thin lips before he gripped your hips and spun you around, pushing your back down as you got the memo, laying yourself across the bed as you heard the sound of the belt buckle being undone and pants abruptly being shoved to the floor. 

  Once again his hands resumed that gentle and reverant stroking along your backside as a hum spilled from his lips. Looking back over your shoulder you saw such a glorious sight. Tech’s hands wrapped around his length as he stroked it slightly with one hand while holding your ass in the other. He glanced up from your bottom to make eye contact briefly as he took his bottom lip under straight white teeth. 

  Pausing momentarily he saw the thin scrap of underwear disappearing between your lower cheeks and decided now was a good time to rid you of the offending material, grabbing them and tugging them down slightly until they landed near your knees, allowing you to step out of them. 

  His hand resumed its position on your body, but this time, it gently nudged you up onto the bed, and you complied with his nonverbal request, positioning your body just slightly up on the bed as you held yourself up on your knees. From behind you could hear the way Tech sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth as his hand found that spot along your backside once more. 

  You had deduced early in this exchange of kissing that he likely was a man who preferred a bottom to breasts. Most men had a likeness to one over the other, and Tech was no different. The knowledge made you feel proud, arching your back ever so slightly as if to present it to him in the most appealing way you could given the position. 

  “You look so wonderful like this. I wish you weren’t behaving so nicely, so I would have an excuse to bring my hand down on you and mark you right here. However I would feel guilty doing such actions when you are being so perfect,” he admitted and you smiled at the wall, glancing back over your shoulder at him. 

  “Who said you can’t anyway. I hardly need to be a brat in order for you to spa-” you began the permission and he quickly resolved himself to take it the second you had granted it. The smack, not nearly as hard as you were anticipating but still firm, filling the air and stopping your sentence midway as you let out a squeak at the contact. 

  Your biceps flexing as you locked your arms to maintain your position on the bed, holding yourself up as his hand soothed the red flushed skin with care and attention. Tracing the hand up, you felt him rest it along your upper back as his fingers hooked over your shoulder, and near your knees you felt the mattress dip ever so slightly. 

  Tech covered the expanse of your back with his body, his left arm coming up to the side of you as he braced himself up just hovering over your back, his right hand moving to brush your hair over your shoulder so that his nose could trace along your upper back. You could feel his eyelashes fluttering along the skin of your shoulder blades as he lowered his mouth to kiss your back a few times gently. 

  “So pliable for me…” he praised as he continued to issue praise in the form of tender kisses that slowly made their way ending with your sweat-dampened temple. 

  Tech had always had sexual relationships from behind. There was an impersonal attitude that came with engaging in the act similarly to the way animals did. Not seeing the woman’s face, and only focusing on the connection of his body with theirs - it made him feel less awkward about the exchange. But something about the way his body caved around yours felt right. He was touching your body with his own almost completely, and he nearly fainted when he realized that he was enjoying the contact. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the damp nature both your bodies had developed in the precursor to intercourse, he felt delighted knowing he’d caused such reactions. So against every previous metric in his mind for engaging in sexual relations, he manuvored your body to your back, so that you could stare up at him as he lowered himself on top of you. 

  Tech wasn’t sure how to quantify the way his stomach began to flutter at the way you stared at him, nor the way your velvety skin along his felt, other than bliss. Something about the intimacy shook him to the core. It made him want to come undone and he hadn’t even slid into you yet. 

  You were surprised as his ability to be tender, as his index finger pushed the hair back from your face, cupping the back of your neck to lift it from the pillow as he pulled the longer strands of your hair - which you’d uncomfortably been laying on - above and around your face like a halo. How he’d realized you were slightly uncomfortable with the tugging caused by your back, you’d never know, but you’d be grateful for long after this exchange nonetheless. 

  “I’ve never met someone who had made me experience what I am feeling at this present moment,” he admitted, his nose leaning down as he gently caressed your own. Keeping it there, his forehead soon pressed against your own as his eyes searched yours for a reply. 

  “What are you feeling?” you whisper, eyes focusing on his right iris as the pupil waivered slightly larger before he continued speaking. 

  “Bliss. Euphoria. Revelry. Perhaps those are words that I could use to quantify it, and yet-” Tech began, hand searching for yours as you allowed him to wrap his fingers around yours while you stared at him expectantly. Your legs widening to accommodate him as you feel his tip slide between your folds and line up expertly with your hole. You are uncertain what he is trying to say, and in all honesty it appears that he is as well. His eyes drift close as, in a rare turn of events, his body wins out over his mind, and he presses within you before completing his thought. You can’t stop the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, no point in remaining open if his own are closed anyway. 

  You had expected him to slide in slowly, as his sweet words and actions leading to this point had been cautious almost, but instead he is direct in the way his cock slides into you as if it’s coming home. As if he’s returning to a place he was always meant to be. The stretch is gone in an instant as he plows into you abruptly at first, but pausing as he reaches the entrance of your womb with his tip. “They do not come close to describing the way I feel right now,” he whispered, making your eyes fly open once more as you stare up at him.

  You have died and gone to the afterlife. The Pykes most certainly killed you and left you in an alley on Ord Mantell. That is the only logical explanation for the way you were feeling. The only thing you can do is affectionately tighten your grip on your joined hands as you raise your hips slightly, giving him permission to move. 

  Tech didn’t need to be encouraged twice, sliding in and out of you with joy as he held himself up with one of his arms. Your head falling back into the pillow as you lose yourself between his calculated thrusts, he decides that not being able to look into your eyes while he continues to make himself at home within your body isn’t what he wants.

  You feel his grip slipping from your hand and anticipate it will go to your breasts for a playful tug, but when you feel his fingers on your jaw, pulling your face back you once again look up at him, curiously. 

  “I. Want. To. See. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” he commands and you feel a shiver that starts near your neck and travels the length of your body as you nod, legs widening even further as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. 

  His hand abandons your chin as he places it along your side, raising your body at the hips so you can meet his thrusts, your eyes staring deeply into his own. Tech had surprised even himself in demanding to see you staring at him while he plowed into you, but something about watching your face as he pushed you both in the direction of release made him feel a pride he’d never known before. With each lewd noise coming from where you were joined, to each whimper or sigh leaving your lips, to the sweat he felt along his brow from exertion - he felt more of that blossoming heat in his stomach at the passion between your bodies. 

  You feel similarly, as you wrap your legs around his thin waist, holding him there so that your union is only intensified and he can reach that absolutely tender spot within your walls that becomes electric when he begins to repeatedly stimulate it over and over again with his steady thrusts. “Tech…” you whimpered as he continued his movement, no external indications that he is approaching orgasm, despite the fact it is true. 

  “Say my name again, please-” he whimpers as you nod, once again saying his name while he pushes inside of you especially hard, a yell tearing from your throat as your hips chant up after his retreat, wanting another harsh thrust. He delivers it immediately, his body pushing you into the bed as he begins frantically diving into you with reckless abandon. 

  “Where?” he demands, your hips held in his hand as his fingers squeeze harshly. You can tell he’s close now, the fire in his eyes doing nothing to dull the flames of desire that both of your bodies are feeling as he plunges into your warmth.

  “Inside-” you give him the permission and once again he does not hesitate to take it, his hand abandoning your waist in order to rub feverish circles upon your clit so that you approach orgasm the same time he does. Your voice calls out his name loudly as you feel every nerve ending within your body set ablaze. He responds to you, chanting yours in response as he pushes his load so deeply within your walls you gasp at the way his tip quivers against the opening of your womb. You feel the throbbing inside until he slows to a stop, body collapsing on top of yours as you both gasp for air. 

  His breathing, erratic against your neck as you push his now half gelled and half wild hair off his forehead while you slow your heart rate the best you can. He’s growing soft within you, but you can tell that even while flaccid he’s still larger than the average man. Tech eventually pulls back from your neck, eyes searching for yours as his hand cups the side of your face lovingly. 

  “You are incredible,” he comments kindly as you blush, feeling as he begins to slip from within you, his spill landing somewhere on the covers below you. You don’t really care. You can clean it later. 

  “So are you,” you return the compliment as he smiles, leaning in to kiss you once more, this time only using his lips in order to show affection not reignite the passion of your endeavor. 

  “Yes, but I was genetically engineered that way. You have come by your splendor naturally,” Tech replies as you laugh, lights immediately flickering back on as you both startle at the suddenness of seeing each other without the dulled darkness of your flat. 

  “That is one way to put it. Still doesn’t make you any less wonderful Tech,” you tell him, immediately feeling more self conscious with the added light. This becomes something he notices almost immediately, as he leans up to get a better view of you. Your body was covered in small love bites and a few bruises from where he’d gripped a bit too hard. Lips swollen from his kisses and sweat covering all of you. Hair disheveled and yet - you looked like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. 

  “And I thought you were lovely in the twilight, but my dear you look positively exquisite,” he encourages you as he lowers his mouth to your brow before kisses between your eyebrows and then over each closed eyelid. 

  “Such a way with words,”  you say sweetly and he immediately begins snickering as you blink confused at his outburst. 

  “If I recall, the first time we met, I insulted your ability to fix Cid’s gambling device” he reminds her. It seemed so long ago he had done that, and from then you had only grown closer. Finding a mutual understanding. Finding friendship. Finding the beginnings of love. 

  “You did,” you scoff at the memory. 

  “I remember crawling under the control panel and when you yelped, thinking that I thought I was going to stop breathing,” Tech admits and you are surprised. 

  “What do you mean?” 

  “I just couldn’t help but think that I had suddenly found myself in close proximity with a very beautiful woman. And that feeling only intensified once I discovered your love of engineering. Since then it’s grown to a point I find it distracting,” Tech explains and you smile. 

  “Oh so you really like me then,” you chide, almost childishly as he rolls his eyes at your antics. 

  “I believe the fact that my seed is actively leaking out of you to be sufficient proof as to my interest in you,” he bluntly states. You grimace looking down at the sheer quantity of said mess. It was more than you realized. 

  “Would you like to get in the refres-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off abruptly as you laugh. You figured he wouldn’t enjoy being unclean. He lifts his body off of you with ease and holds out a hand to help you rise from the bed. 

  “I am going to want a full detailed report on all of these,” you tell him, finger tracing one of the tattoos on his shoulder. 

  “I believe I can arrange that,” he chides with a small peck to your forehead, pulling you along to the small shower stall your flat has. 

  As he walks just ahead of you, you can’t help but think that this blossoming romance might have been worth the emergency landing on Ord Mantell all those years ago. 

The end.

[togenabi]

throwing pebbles because I love you

megumi fushiguro x reader (royalty au)

♡—Whenever the night is clear, and the wind blows softly, Megumi throws rocks at your window.

word count♡— 2.3k words

genre♡— fluff, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— childhood frenemies to lovers, megumi throws rocks, no use of y/n, mc is a bit of a snob, very fluff, secret codes, confessions, not really proofread, megumi is ooc I'm sorry TvT

author's note♡— I really didn't mean to make my second royalty au to also be related to windows, but here we are. (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠) no windows were harmed in the making of this fic.

The first time it happened, it was an accident. You were both eight.

Their royal highnesses, prince Megumi and prince Yuji, were staying over at your family's estate as guests. Your mother was a royal through and through, having descended from the greater empire then married into a neighboring kingdom's duchy. After your father passed, she never remarried; choosing instead to focus on serving the kingdom as the perfect duchess.

She never forced you to take on too many responsibilities, despite her own workaholic tendencies. Your mother had simply let you be a child. Eventually, you learned to be extremely grateful she let you grow into your own person.

For now though, you were eight. And some kid just threw a pebble at your very pretty window.

You throw it back at him.

“Ow!” The kid cries as he rubs his forehead, on which a mark has begun to redden. “Hey! Mine was an accident!”

“You still did it!” You say, pointing at the dent he caused while looking down at him from the windowsill. “My response was your consequence.”

The both of you glower at each other until you realize how far he is. “What were you doing throwing rocks at my manor anyway?”

The kid suddenly looks sheepish as his eyes turn to anywhere but you. “My friend needed rocks for some game he made up, and he bet he could catch all of them.” You notice he starts glaring ahead of him at the ground level, so you lean down—out of the window, to follow his gaze. Your eyes catch a head of pink hair before it runs away.

Realizing these two were the royal guests everyone was fussing about, you scoff. “That's hardly very princely of the two of you.”

He bristles. “Is that how you act towards the prince of the kingdom you serve?!”

“I'll greet you properly when our interaction doesn't begin with a pebble being thrown.” You say as you begin closing the window, throwing on a smile just to mess with him more. “Have a pleasant evening.”

You got terribly sick not long after that, and you never saw him for the rest of that summer. The duchess had forbidden visitors unless absolutely necessary so that you could recover quickly.

Prince Megumi fades into your memory, turning into one that you recall only when you spot that dent on your window frame.

You never made the effort to have it repaired, for some reason.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

You're fifteen, hiding in your room as a ball rages downstairs. Your maids would be distraught if they caught you, donning your best clothes, yet curled up on the couch with a book. No matter, this was the perfect way to spend an evening, in your opinion.

When a pebble glides through your window and lands on the floor nearby, you look at it incredulously.

‘This feels strangely familiar...’ But you decide to ignore it, your position on the couch is much too comfortable to leave. You resume reading.

But another rock comes in. Then another.

“Tsk!” Snapping your book shut, you spring up and finally look outside the window. Your eyes meet a certain familiar prince, holding even more rocks in his hands.

You frown at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “This time's deliberate, then?”

“I'm sorry but I need to hide! Please help me—could I come up?” His voice is urgent, and it's only then that you notice the state of his clothes. They were filthy, and part of his coat sleeve blooms red.

Without thinking further, you push a mechanism hidden beneath a flower pot by your window. A rope ladder immediately falls to the ground outside. Megumi is stunned for a moment before reaching for it, and you wonder if he had planned to climb the vines painfully when he asked to come up.

You assist by pulling him once he's within arm's reach, and he collapses into your room with a loud groan. You slam your hand on the mechanism again, and the rope reels back into place.

He looks exhausted, but you have to make him get up. You're not sure how you would move him to the couch if he fainted.

“Stand up for me, please.” You plead with him. “At least to the couch.”

Megumi's breaths are labored as he glances towards the couch. He closes his eyes and groans louder as he gets up and walks slowly, leaning on you the whole time.

He's out like a light once he lies down. Your first instinct is to go get help, but it hits you that you have no idea who Megumi was running from. It dawns on you that if he could ask help from a professional, especially one nearer the palace, he would have. It could be dangerous for anyone else to know he's here.

You purse your lips as you think, and reach for a medical journal on your shelf. You must do your best to tend to his wounds on your own while he rests.

Megumi looks so peaceful as he sleeps. He looks the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you're thankful he's at least comfortable. While his wounds weren't that deep, he was probably running for a while, which had exhausted and strained him further.

You're cleaning up the medical supplies you used when Megumi regains consciousness for a moment.

“...Thank you.” Megumi's eyes reflect how truly grateful he is. He croaks out the words despite the toll on him. He even grasps your hand dearly.

You clear your throat and look away, but your ears clearly turn red. “If you ever need my help again, just throw a rock. I'll be here.”

That brings a sleepy smile to Megumi's face. “What happened to ignoring me if the encounter starts with a pebble being thrown?”

It takes you a moment to respond. You're not sure what surprises you more, that he remembers your exact words all those years ago, or that he has the gall to crack jokes in his condition.

You stutter out a response lamely to cover up how flustered you are, “I—there can be exceptions, even if it's for you.”

Megumi laughs quietly, and lets out a soft sigh before falling asleep.

You drape a blanket over him as he rests, pausing only to brush his hair away from his eyes.

You don't notice, but the gesture makes Megumi's breathing still for a moment.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

When you're eighteen, your window is severely banged up with dents and scratches. The glass had already broken on more than one occasion, and while of course you had that replaced, the frame stays strong from all the rocks it's been hit with throughout all these years. And, on the day it finally breaks and shatters into spikes, you think you'll make a picture frame out of it.

‘Megumi and I don't have a single nice portrait together, though.’ The thought makes you laugh softly. Both of you weren't exactly exemplary at the frivolous details that come with being nobles, you often helped each other out to skip balls and escape from dreadful hours posing for portraits. But neither of you ever minded.

You bought the most wonderful chair when you were sixteen, you simply melt into it while reading. The best part of it, however, was that you could put it by your window; with the ladder mechanism easy to reach nearby.

Megumi visits less often these days, though. His responsibilities are becoming far too great to leave the palace for too long. He even leaves for other nations and kingdoms sometimes.

But you keep waiting, and he always comes back to you.

A rock clatters into your room and you smile absentmindedly at the sound. You continue reading as your hand moves to trigger the ladder down.

Megumi enters through the window. You'd look at him, but the novel you're reading has suddenly taken an interesting turn, and you're absolutely absorbed into it.

If you had looked up, you would have seen the softest of smiles on Megumi's face.

He approaches and kisses your forehead. By the time you process what happened, he's already walking away as if that was the most normal thing to do. You blink at him in surprise. Megumi only sits on your desk, as he's done so many times before, and begins to do some paperwork he's brought with him.

“What was that?” You ask, still stunned.

“What was what?” Sounds of paper shuffles as he sifts through documents.

“That kiss.”

He pauses.

Your heart seems to rattle in your chest. Were you too blunt? Was it really a normal thing that people like both of you did? Both of you? What were both of you? Does he—

Your thoughts come to an abrupt halt when Megumi smiles, and you finally see that soft and caring smile he saves only for you.

His next words, however, make you throw a pillow at him.

“I'll give you another one later if you liked it that much.”

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

It's late into the evening after Megumi has left. You don't speak of the kiss again, and he doesn't either. Though you already had an inkling of your feelings for Megumi, you've never spoken of or acted upon it.

But tonight suddenly made you question if you should start to.

As you retrieve it, your fingers trace a rough texture on the rock Megumi threw earlier. Turning it over, you read something that seems to be etched into it.

‘TWK—p.402, q.1'

Is it some sort of code? What could this be? Surely Megumi was the one to carve this, but how do you decipher it? You stare at the rock and return to your chair. Before you sit down, however, your eyes catch the cover of the book you were reading...

The Wicked King.

The puzzle pieces click into place. A title, a page number, and a quote! Your fingers flutter to get to page 402, not caring that you haven't actually reached that part of the book yet...

The first line makes you gasp and your heart stutter.

“You are my daylight.”

As you trace the line delicately, you wonder if he's always been doing this. But you would have definitely noticed if he was. The jagged texture of the letters are obvious no matter what way you hold the rock. The others before were always perfectly intact.

Your heart skips a beat again. ‘Then... Does this mean that this is the first, and that he'll leave another code next time?’

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

A month passes, and Megumi has visited you exactly three times since the first rock with a clue.

Though he's visiting less, you're certainly thinking of him more. The messages you decoded all engraved into your mind at this point, with how many times you've read them.

“You are my daylight.”

“May your day be filled with happiness and warmth, as much as you have given to me.”

“My mind has not forgotten how you smiled at me so.”

“Thank you, for being my home.”

You never let on that you cracked the ciphers, however. He hasn't ever mentioned their existence either, but you suspect he knows that you're aware. Especially since he's been acting so much more dearly during his visits.

After writing all the messages down on a sheet of paper, you realize you should give Megumi a reply. But, how should you do it?

Your eyes find the four small rocks on your desk...

Ah, of course! Of course that's the most perfect way!

Your mind whirls with excitement as you rush outside to find a rock. Once you find one, you realize Megumi is the only person you would do this for...

Because you love him.

And that's it, you've decided. That's what you'll tell him, no code needed.

You love prince Megumi.

❀ ♡ ❀ ♡ ❀

‘Is this how he felt, all those times before?’ His window seems so far and almost out of reach. ‘Was he ever this nervous? Nervous that I wouldn't respond?’

You tighten your grip on the pebble. Megumi never had to worry about that. You'd always respond to him no matter what.

And yet, you're nervous as hell, and shaking like a leaf. If you weren't so anxious, you would have laughed at how baffled the palace staff were when you arrived but didn't enter the palace at all.

The head butler looked so confused when you asked to be led to Megumi's window, but you assured him your intentions meant well.

The pebble suddenly feels heavy in your palm, but you hold yourself firm. You blow a kiss on it softly, before beginning to aim.

The pebble flies from your hand. It was a perfect throw that collides with his window loudly before rattling along his balcony floor.

Megumi peeks out carefully, but then brightens up the moment he sees you. He laughs as he waves at you. “It feels so strange to be on the receiving end of the rock.”

You smile shyly up at him. “But, you haven't just been giving me rocks recently, haven't you?”

He suddenly looks nervous, and starts to search your face for any sign of rejection. When he finds none, he looks cautiously optimistic.

“Pick up that rock now, would you?” You say, acting impatient, but your heart is beating eagerly to see his reaction.

He turns this way and that looking for it, and you stop breathing when he finally finds and reaches for it. Once he reads it, he looks at you with a dazed expression. The rock falls from his hold as he quickly jumps over the balcony edge, and lands safely in front of you.

You're about to nag that he nearly gave you a heart attack when he slowly gets on one knee. Your words die in your throat.

Megumi laughs at how stunned you look. “I'd throw this rock at your window, but my family might actually kill me.”

His smile widens as he jokes, “I don't suppose I need to write a code to express what this one means...” He opens a small box to reveal a stunning ring that suits you perfectly.

“Will you marry me?”

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

[dwonfilm]

Old habits die hard | Beau Arlen x Reader

Summary: after Beau’s divorce he and [Y/N] were involved, but he realized it wasn’t fair for many reasons and things ended in a mess, but his past comes back to bite when [Y/N] shows up in Montana as a kidnapping victim and the perpetrators are tied to the cartel that killed his old partner.

This will be a multi-part story, set after season three of Big Sky.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Warnings: kidnapping scenario, sort of more tight spaces, regular network tv violence.

Mentions: Jenny Hoyt, Felicity [L/N], Grant (OC), two abductors.

If you missed it, here’s Part I.

Part II:

Now her ears were ringing again, but it wasn’t as intense as it had been before—the trunk muffling the volume of the loud pop somewhat. There had been a silence that overtook the air and it made her feel incredibly uneasy. Moments prior there was yelling and talking and chaotic noises and now there was just.. nothing. However after another small chunk of time, she could hear footsteps against the gravel. They sounded like they were coming.. closer? Oh god.. they were coming closer. She felt her heart thumping against her chest and the fear and anxiety surging through her body. Someone had inserted a key into the trunk and twisted it, the mechanism sort of loud in her ears. Slowly the trunk opened and she immediately winced as the sunlight came flooding into the area that had been entirely cloaked in darkness for so long. As she clenched her eyes closed to avoid further pain to them, she heard a strange man laugh. It sent chills along her spine and the hair on various parts of her body stand up on end. “Well, look who woke up from her nap.” He said, the tone of his voice mocking and she could basically hear the sneer in his voice. It made her stomach feel like it was tying itself in knots. There was a second laugh from further away.. it sounded familiar almost but she couldn’t place it. “Well, at least you can help me out a bit cause we hit a little roadblock and now we’ve gotta change vehicles. So c’mon,” he grunted, leaning forward to grab onto her arm. It felt like her entire body froze in place, which, made her harder to move. “quit resisting sweetheart, you don’t wanna catch another blow to the head do ya’?” His voice was incredibly unsettling. However her head was still feeling groggy from the first blow she’d presumably suffered based on his comment. Reluctantly she relaxed her body enough that he got to pull her forward enough to be close to the opening of the trunk. Next he placed his hand on the back of her neck, it felt cold and clammy and she shivered from disgust. It was clear he was guiding her into a sitting position almost—his other hand pulling her legs out. Despite the ‘nice’ front he’d been putting up, he wasn’t taking chances with her and scooped her body up onto his shoulder. It was her turn to grunt as she’d been hoisted in the air, the man’s footsteps crunching against the gravel again. One.. two.. three.. four.. counting his footsteps in her head was futile but it made her brain at least think that she was gaining important information.

He’d made roughly twenty steps when the motion came to a stop. Slowly she gained the courage to open her eyes, it still hurt but she held the reaction in so he wouldn’t notice she was looking around. Immediately her eyes fixated on the car behind them and her stomach completely dropped at what she saw—the red car that had been following her off and on for two, maybe three weeks. It turns out she’d been right to be suspicious and despite the opinion of those cops.. she wasn’t paranoid at all and yet somehow that wasn’t even the worst thing she saw. Not far from the front of said car was a man lying on the asphalt. There was a deep red soaking into it and the dirt surrounding it. She had been right again, but the realization of both things felt anything but great. Suddenly the other hand of her captor was felt on the side of her waist and again it made her skin crawl. Slowly he began to shift her body from his shoulder and she quickly shut her eyes again—hoping that the man didn’t notice she’d opened her eyes at all. It wasn’t hard to tell that she’d been placed into a standing position onto the ground, the rocks pushing into her bare feet. It was morning when she’d been stolen from her home after all, so she wasn’t dressed for this kind of outing. “Sadly for you, the new digs aren’t as.. cozy as the last ones.” His voice bordered on an almost sympathetic tone. [Y/N] so desperately wanted to ask what it was he meant by that, but, she also was scared to speak and say something that made them cut her loose and shoot her like they’d done the man. He didn’t speak further, instead he’d pulled her by her arm a couple steps forward but they were more so hops since her ankles were bound. “Hey, c’mere and help me lift her up.” He’d yelled and she could hear the sound of the second man’s footsteps approaching them by the soles of his shoes shifting the gravel underneath them. There was a second or so of silence before she heard the sound of the back of a truck being pulled down, great.. she was getting thrown into a truck bed. It didn’t take long for the second man to climb up into it and less time for her to be lifted up. Maybe she was delusional but his touch.. it was as if she’d felt it before—but that can’t be. Whatever they hit her over the head with was certainly doing a number on her ability to think clearly. Once she was up he’d roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the top of the truck bed. Less than gently shoving her to the bottom of it, which was hard on her knees. Not only was the hard material of the floor of it a rough landing, there was also treads of some kind and she felt either bits of rocks or bits of wood underneath her skin. As the second man maneuvered himself it was clear he was stepping on things that weren’t necessarily the bed of the truck.

Now his hand was on her shoulder and again, with a less than gentle approach he’d pulled her down to the floor of the truck bed. She moved a little but felt the edge of something that felt like wood, she was clearly wedged between lumber or something. It wasn’t long after that the second man jumped down and closed up the back piece of the truck, where the hell was she being taken? As if being stuck in the bed of a soon to be moving truck wasn’t bad enough, she then heard the sound of a tarp being pulled overtop of her—at least as high as the sides of the truck bed. At least it wasn’t directly on top of her but that wasn’t more comforting, not by much. They secured it and both of them seemed to walk off, their footsteps getting quieter and quieter. She shivered as the air began to have a chill to it, which was weird.. she never got cold during the night in Texas.

Helena, Montana.

Beau was about to finish the night at the station. Most of the people had left already, but he’d gotten himself stuck in deep thought processes about [Y/N] and her case or whatever it may be. He finally decided to pull his phone out of his pocket, because he’d been forced to put it away so he’d stop staring at messages—well, that and photos of himself and [Y/N] that he’d never exactly.. deleted. It was distracting him from other little jobs he’d had to do. Now though, he decided to call up an old buddy who was still active in the Houston PD. Lightly tapping the screen over his contact, the phone began to ring and Beau placed it against his ear. There was a couple rings before the man had picked up. “Well, well—Beau Arlen if it ain’t the one and only.” He said. It made Beau chuckle a little, sheepishly given the context of this call. “Hey, Grant. I hope I’m not buggin’ ya’ too much at this time.” Beau replied as he nervously scratched at the nape of his neck. “Not at all, I was just gonna start wrapping things up. Only got a few more hours on call but it’s slow.” He spoke, picking up that Arlen’s tone wasn’t necessarily even. “I can tell this isn’t a ‘call and check in and shoot the shit’ phone call. What’s on your mind Arlen?” Beau should’ve known, you can’t keep anything from a good cop. “You caught me red handed,” he joked with another nervous sort of laugh before having to ask Grant this question. “I just got a question, uh, so Felicity [L/N] contacted me earlier about.. about [Y/N] and said she’s missin’, that true?” Beau asked, waiting to see just how his old friend would react. It was a nervous laugh that came from Grant this time and that only served to make Beau more on edge. “Yeah, accordin’ to Felicity it’s true but.. you and I both know the reputation [Y/N] has Beau—hell you know better than me.” Grant spoke and his tone had indicated it was supposed to sound more like a joke. “She’s been off her rocker for a couple years now. Maybe she finally just.. snapped and left.” Beau scoffed immediately at this notion. “She wouldn’t do anythin’ without filling Felicity in, speaking of, she said her place was trashed and it looked as if there was a struggle? Tell me who leaves their entire life behind and wants to make a scene?” He’d withheld the bitterness for the most part, just wanting some answers. Grant’s own chuckle was sheepish now and it was clear that he didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Why do you care, Beau? Didn’t you ditch that girl like a bad habit and flee to Montana months later?” Ouch. Beau had to try and remain cool but the anger was bubbling up from his gut. “I ain’t gonna dignify that with a response Grant, if you guys aren’t gonna look into it then send me whatever Felicity gave you and I’ll look into this myself.”

It was obvious by the silence that he’d stunned his old friend with the request but it gave the man an excuse to continue not caring about [Y/N] or the fact that she was missing. “..whatever‘ll make you sleep better at night Beau. I’ll have a rookie gather it all and send it in the morning. Now, if that’s all, I got a job to do.” There was an air of annoyance around Grant’s tone and Beau was feeling pretty much the same. “Yeah, pleasure talkin’ again.” Beau replied before immediately hanging up the phone. He’d been gripping his phone so tight that his knuckles began to turn white. Gritting his teeth he felt that anger lingering, but it wasn’t all directed at his old friend. Some of it was directed towards himself, because Grant had made a point. He really had ditched [Y/N] like she was a bad habit.

“Beau, why are you doing this?!” [Y/N] sobbed, not even trying to hide the tears or the way her voice cracked. Beau remained quiet and continued packing up her things. He’d barely said anything to her since arriving back at his apartment. “Why aren’t you answering me, Beau? Why.. what did I do?” She was stuttering and stumbling over her words as the air was being forced from her lungs and then they tried desperately to regain some. However all it did was burn. Beau was throwing her clothes in a bag, his expression stoic. Moving around the bedroom and gathering the array of things she’d slowly integrated into his place over the past six or seven months. [Y/N] ran her hand through her [Y/H/C] hair out of desperation and frustration. She truly had no idea what prompted him to act like this and he’d not let her close enough to know if he was drunk—but it was Beau and he was almost always drunk to some degree. He’d thrown almost all of the clothes into this bag and now he moved to the bathroom, grabbing some of her products she’d left here since she spent so much time inside these walls. Of course she’d followed him in a desperate attempt to break through whatever shell he was throwing up. “Beau.. please.. just talk to me, we can talk this out or I can fix whatever I did-“ for the first time since beginning this rampage he turned to look at her and his expression was still hardened. “Just stop, [Y/N]. Stop. Look at you! You’re sobbing like someone died an’ we weren’t ever really together. You weren’t ever my girlfriend and you’re actin’ like I’m busting up a lifelong relationship.” His words were pointed and harsh, slurring a little which confirmed that he was indeed intoxicated. “You were fun, this.. whatever you wanna call what we had, it was fun. Now ya’ need to just suck it up alright?” Beau’s tone of voice matched his expression and it was breaking her heart more and more by the second. “I.. this was more than fun and you know it, Beau.. don’t downplay us because you’re feeling scared or insecure or-“ she tried to reason with him but he wasn’t having it. “I ain’t feelin’ nothin’. Don’t try and project your bullshit on me okay? Just..” he trailed off before he turned back around and grabbed more stuff to throw it in the bag.

[Y/N]’s heart was thrown against the wall, shattering into tiny bits and pieces as it connected and fell to the floor. “Beau please..” she felt so utterly pathetic for standing here and begging a man for a chance to fix something she didn’t even know she’d done wrong. It was incredibly out of character for her but it was a testament to how strongly she felt about this man. “..I love you..” she whispered, her voice breaking in a soft and sad manner. It made Beau freeze and for a moment he stopped dead in his tracks. It was the first time his face twitched but she couldn’t see it as his back was turned towards where she stood. Now an awkward and tense silence overtook the air and the two of them just became frozen seemingly within it. However, after what felt like an eternity Beau turned and exited the bathroom, maneuvering around her to get into the small living room. It was the last room that he needed to remove her presence from, which wouldn’t take long because it didn’t hold much. There was a million things she wanted to say, hell that she needed to say and yet her entire chest felt like it was gonna collapse. It took a minute, maybe two in order to grab things from the living room and toss them into a bag. Now he turned back to her, his expression still unreadable. Extending his arm outward, he held the bag out for her to take into her possession. She wanted to fight it, to prove that what they had was worth fighting for—but she couldn’t make the words come out. Not when she was staring at him with an expression like that on his face. Slowly she reached out, fingers trembling as she took the bag into her hand. [Y/N] parted her lips to try and say something, but again, no words would come out. Beau’s jaw tensed. “Goodbye [Y/N], have a good life.” He spoke before turning and walking into the kitchen and she felt like that phrase was formed into a blade. It was then shoved into her chest without a second thought, and so she turned and walked towards the door. For a moment she paused, lingering by it and silently sobbing. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the spare key he’d given her to immediately drop it on the counter. Sniffling to try and regain some semblance of control of her emotions, she went to leave but something stopped her from doing so. Now she reached into her other pocket and slowly pulled out a watch, Beau’s watch. He’d been complaining for weeks that it was broken and it was a gift from his brother so.. she’d taken it to get fixed. Lightly setting it down on the counter she then opened the door and left.

End of flashback.

Beau’s gaze fell to his wrist immediately, that very same watch strapped to it. He tortured himself for months after that night. It was the last time he’d ever seen [Y/N] face to face. “I’m gonna find you, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna stop until I do.” He whispered a promise into the emptiness of his office before grabbing his jacket and making his way to the door. Slowly he flicked the light off and closed the door—locking it immediately after. Somehow he’d force himself to sleep and tomorrow he could really start looking for [Y/N].

Unknown location.

It felt like it had been so long since the men who abducted her had walked off, of course she could open her eyes and look around, but that wasn’t gonna be of any use now. All she’d see was the contents surrounding her inside the bed of this truck and the tarp that was pulled across the top. She was entirely closed in, but she was cold. It was the consistent though in her brain and [Y/N] knew for certain this couldn’t be Texas. Even walking around in things like she had on—which was a pair of pyjama shorts and a small matching tank top—she never got a chill like this as night rolled in. It was at this moment that [Y/N] felt a surge of pure fear move throughout her entire body. Clearly she wasn’t anywhere near her home, in both the sense of being far from her physical house and apparently.. the state it was located in. Just then she heard the faint crunch of the gravel beneath feet. Whatever they’d done was over with and now they were coming back to take her.. somewhere. Gradually the noise of crunching gravel became louder, the two men getting closer and closer to the truck. Despite knowing it was likely impossible for her to snap or tear the duct tape around her limbs, she had to try. Turning her head a little bit, finally opening her eyes, she noticed a bit of wood that seemed jagged enough to do the trick. Unfortunately she had no idea how she’d get to it but she was attempting to workshop scenarios in her head. Now the two men had gotten close enough to where she could hear what they were talking about, but it seemed like nothing. They probably knew she was still gonna be awake and didn’t want her figuring anything out. Which meant in her eyes there was a chance, albeit a slim one, that she could make it out of this entire ordeal alive. It didn’t take long for them to get into the cab of the truck and soon the engine roared to life. Unfortunately for her plan, it was gonna be much harder for [Y/N] to get to that piece of wood. Despite that, she’d try—just not now. It was senseless to try at this moment because they were about to drive and she’d still have no escape. Man her head was starting to ache again. As they pulled back onto the road and began to drive, she knew it was only a matter of time before her body would give out on her again and she’d pass out. Which, right now, with shivers and chills moving through her body, that didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

However she wasn’t so lucky this time, she was still conscious to watch as the sun gradually disappeared from the sky and all that cloaked her was darkness again. Of course with a lack of the sun shining, the air only became more crisp and more chilly—the shivers moving throughout her body were causing her teeth to ever so slightly chatter. All the while it only served to make her body ache more from being stuck in the same position and her limbs getting stiff. Eventually, some mercy was granted for her and she eventually passed out yet again.

Helena, Montana—the next day.

Beau hadn’t gotten much sleep, but that was to be expected. All night was plagued by the same memories eating him alive and they were accompanied by the overwhelming sense of urgency and pure worry that had settled into his bones like a permanent ache. He’d been sitting outside in one of his deck chairs which was situated in front of his trailer. Truthfully he’d been so lost in all of his thoughts that the image of the sun beginning to rise in the sky, peeking above the tops of the trees startled him. “Dammit.” He muttered to himself, but he knew when he pulled into his driveway last night that he’d been getting little sleep if any at all. Slowly he pushed himself to a vertical position, slowly extending his arms upward so that he could stretch the stiffness from his body. Beau took one step towards his beloved truck, Pedro, but then figured it would be even more obvious he didn’t sleep if he showed up to work in the same outfit he’d worn the day prior. Grumbling to himself he pulled the door to his trailer open and disappeared inside, tossing his clothes around for a moment or two in an attempt to discern what items were clean. After about ten minutes he’d settled on a maroon button up shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He grabbed a different jacket just to further attempt to prove to those who’d be surrounding him today that he was still put together. Sighing as he ran a hand through his hair, he’d then grab his gun and slip it into its holster— immediately moving towards the door once it was secured. He’d definitely need a coffee or ten to get through today. Another grumble of nonsense slipped through his lips as he exited his trailer again, making the short walk to Pedro before slipping into the driver’s seat. Hands gripped the wheel tightly as he took a deep breath in, filling his lungs to the brim with air before slowly pushing it all back out. Beau slipped the key into the ignition and flicked his wrist in order to bring the engine of his beloved truck to life. Carefully he backed out of his driveway and began to drive in the direction of the station.

It was about 7:15AM when he’d arrived at the station, it was mostly a ghost town. No one really started filing in until around 7:30AM or later. Hell usually he’d be slipping in the front door at around 8AM—that man loved his sleep. Unfortunately when something was truly plaguing him, he’d show up like this, bright and early. There was no brightness to his eyes nor bushiness to his metaphorical tail. All that he felt was dread. His first stop was to the break room, firing up the coffee pot. He couldn’t stop anywhere for coffee that was actually good, he didn’t have time. While he was waiting for the water to heat up, he slowly pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket. Thumbs moving along the screen as he typed out a message.

Hey, Felicity—I made a call to a friend last night and Houston PD is sending me whatever you gave them and whatever else they scrounged up. I’m gonna have a look at everything and if I find anything at all, I’ll let you know right away. Sorry I know it’s early but I told you I’d reach out and didn’t wanna make you wait.

He pushed the button to send the text and locked his phone again. There was an overwhelming feeling inside of his heart to unlock it again and pull up those pictures he really should’ve deleted a long time ago. However that wouldn’t end well and his heart was already on the thinnest ice possible. Luckily for Beau, the water began to boil and the sound snapped him from that spiral.. at least for now. Turning on his heel he’d grabbed his usual mug and began the process of making up the godawful coffee the station had in the cupboard. It was now 7:40AM and he heard the front door open. Slowly he walked out of the break room hoping to beeline to his office, however the voice that called out wasn’t one that was expected. “You better have made a whole pot and not just enough for yourself again, Arlen.” He turned to face Jenny with an expression of surprise. “I didn’t know you dragged your hyde outta bed before eight.” He teased, though the usual glimmer of mischief in his eyes wasn’t present. Jenny made her way towards the break room, seeing a full pot of coffee. “Yeah well, I knew you were gonna need some help today after you texted me about HPD sending information over.” She spoke as she pulled her mug out and got herself some coffee too. Beau offered a genuine half-smile of appreciation towards his friend before making the way over to his office door. Slowly he pulled the key out of his pocket and unlocked it. “C’mon in when you’re good, it’s gonna be a long day.” Beau spoke in Jenny’s direction before turning and entering his office.

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @stillhere197 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @aylacavebear @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @jc-winchester @just-levyy @deans-spinster-witch ✤ ٠ —– • ·

[aki-anikk]

Hello! I didn't expect people to enjoy or even read the first part so the feeback was pretty suprising.

I hope this one will live up to the previous part :)

(and again if there is something wrong in it then please let me know!)

People who wanted a second part:

@im-a-killer-queen , @tabloid-junki3

Tw: angst, Simon is a depressed fella

_____________________________________________

Simon was always a quiet person, whenever it was his personality or defence mechanism against the world... He would never tell anyone.

As always, after school he prepared himself to see your face, again. To look at you and walk away, he didn't want you to keep hoping for something that would never happend. He wasn't cruel.

But... You never came again.

It passed one day, he thought that maybe you're mad at him. But you will come back.

It passed a week, maybe you got sick. But you will come back.

It passed a month, he didn't know what the hell could happend to keep you away for so long. But you will come-

"..."

It finally hit him. You're not coming back.

That's what he wanted, right? Well he finally got it.

"..."

For some reason there was a heavy lump in his throat, but he pushed that feeling away. Just like he always does it. He didn't know how, and neither wanted to deal with those emotions.

Even if one day he would break. He didn't care.

_____________________________________________

How much time has passed? He didn't know, maybe 5 years, maybe 10, maybe even more. Not like he counted. And not like the reason for him not counting time was that whenever he thought about it, he felt like he would throw up.

He didn't realise it as a kid, he couldn't know what would happend to him in life.

He didn't expect his family to be gone forever, he didn't expect feeling so... Empty.

Sure, he joined the military. He had companions and even friends but... There was no one who looked at him the same way you did.

He caught himself many time going back to you in his mind. Whenever he felt like he didn't deserve to live, he remembered those soft, affectionate eyes. You wouldn't want him to end it all, right?

And then he would frown involuntary. He had no right to be so selfish. He pushed you away, hurt you and finally made you leave. Maybe you really hated him? That thought made his stomach turn again.

But again, he pushed it aside like every emotion. Even if he called himself selfish and tried to not think of you, he silently begged that he would never forget your face. He couldn't lose another person.

The work went like always, days blurred into one and he just complied to every order. It was easier to deal with all that pain when he didn't have to face it. When he got his mind busy with work.

One day he got hurt, not a big deal. He was never the one to go to hospitals as the wounds would 'heal on their own' while leaving a nasty scar. But he didn't care about it. He stopped caring about his looks a long time ago, because who would want to be with a bloody monster?

He had to be practicaly dragged by Soap to the nearest hospital. He said something along the lines-

"It's gonna be a quick job LT"

Or at least that's what he took out of it, it was sometimes hard to understand his damn accent. But he just finally agreed.

He sat on the bed as some nurse told him to, he didn't even look at her. He could feel the weird look she gave him when he didn't take off the mask. Not like he cared... Or felt like he had the right to care.

There were few people walking through, and he just waited, unmoving, like a statue. For a moment he thought about leaving, but then someone came up to him. Great.

The person seemed to be a doctor, as they sounded pretty professional, but he didn't look up. He only did when there was one sentence repeated over and over again like a broken radio.

"Are you okay sir?"

He finally looked up and just froze.

Was his mind playing tricks on him? Has he finally lost it? He saw a face, a too familiar one. One that always looked at him with adoration but now was filled with worry.

It was you.

It was... You.

At the realisation who it was, he felt every little mistake crash on him, every fiber of his body screamed and every piece of his broken heart was begging to speak. Anything.

But he didn't, of course he didn't.

He just let out a confirming huff, like if he was annoyed.

He hated it, but he couldn't stop. He wanted to apologize, do anything and everything.

But he just watched you in silence as you checked his pulse and talked to him. Oh that voice, it got a bit deeper but it still had that softness to it. He listened every word hoping that it would never leave his memory. That something-

But then you nodded at the nurse and walked to another patient.

Right.

You didn't recognize him. He had a mask.

How stupid.

Just a moment ago you looked at him with care, just like all of those years ago. But then those gentle eyes left him. They now were turned onto another patient. Your smile wasn't only for him to see.

He realised that.. he was no one special to you anymore.

It hurted. Why? He pushed you away. That's what he wanted.

But once you finally left, he missed you.

He missed the way you followed him like a pup, he missed how you tried to make him smile, even if as a kid he didn't appriciate it.

And even worse, he missed those loving eyes.

He needed them.

_____________________________________________

He didn't know why, maybe he knew but also didn't want to admit.

But he kept searching anything about you. He searched where you worked before, to what university you went to. He checked everything, but it still didn't feel enough.

He hated those feeling, you were right there just an arm away but still out of his reach. No matter how much he tried to lift his hand towards you, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

So he just let you live your comfortable life that you created for yourself, sometimes watching you work, but nothing more. There was no place for him in your life anymore.

It was until he was injurned, heavly. There wasn't much he could complain about as he was barely concious as he was rushed to the surgery room. The white hospital lights flashed into his eyes like if someone was making a cruel joke on him.

A lamp, light.

No lamp, no light

A lamp, light.

And again and again and again.

As if he already saw the light that everyone talked about when they were near death. The white light to heveanly gates that each lack of the lamp were taken away from him.

He neither did deserve heaven or even death.

He felt a cold table under him, he struggled to move, he struggled to fight when he felt someone's hand on his mask.

His eyes opened wide open, trying to push it away. But he stopped once he saw you. You, who were desperately trying to take off his mask, for what would come next.

He let go, his fate was already sealed.

Nothing he could do.

Once he felt the air hit his face, he saw your expression. He didn't blink even once, just to see every flashing emotion that was going through your face.

There was shock, worry and then so much despair. You couldn't help it, couldn't help how your face almost grimaced in pain, like if someone was stabbing your heart over and over again.

That hurt, but not only your heart.

He finally closed his eyes as he felt like he had died. Again.

He thought he had found something to make him want to live, it wouldn't matter that you didn't know. He would watch you in silence, but now you knew the truth, knew who he was. And you hated him.

He wished he didn't wouldn't make through this surgery.

After many hours they were slowly finishing the surgery, but Simon didn't feel alive. He was mouring the death of his heart.

You hated him, there was nothing he could do.

These words spinned in his head like vultures that waited to dig into his skin.

They hate me.

They hate me.

They hate me-

"I'm sorry."

"..."

What?

Simon once again opened his eyes, you were still there, but didn't look at him. Maybe you couldn't bear to look at his face. Maybe he overheard it.

But your eyes were glossy, hurt.

He didn't know, of course he couldn't know. Through all those years you wondered if he understood your sign of love, that you so desperately tried to kept alive.

You didn't hate him, you never could. You felt so much pain because you felt like you betrayed him. He didn't want to see you, and there you were. You felt like you broke some sacred secret, and all you could do was to apologize.

He understood that... You don't hate him.

How can you not hate him? He caused you so much pain, said so many hurtful words. But you stood there like if you were about to cry because you intupted the way he told you to love him. Like if you were the one who did something wrong.

He should have never said it. He never thought you would really do it.

He wanted to speak up, explain himself, but he couldn't speak. Maybe because of the injuries or maybe out of fear.

Soon he watched you walk out. Again leaving his life. He again let you leave.

No. He couldn't allow it.

Not this time.

_____________________________________________

It passed two weeks- no. Maybe a month? You didn't know. You couldn't really focus on anything as the days started to blur behind your tears, tears that threathened to flood the world.

You felt just like the day when Simon stomped on the boquet you gave him. It hurt so much. You thought you healed, yet every little scar was opening again and felt even deeper than before.

You were so lost that you didn't hear the doorbell rang. The person was persistent, ringing and then knocking loudly which caused you to jump slightly.

A sigh left your lips, right. Your landlord? He was probably annoyed that you didn't pay yet.

You got up and went to the door, everything felt heavy, the dark room overwhelmed any light of hope.

And you opened the door.

"..."

There was Simon. The Man was looking at you as suprised as you were, as if he didn't try to get your attention for good five minutes.

His lips opened few times and immidietly closed again, he wanted to say so much, but also couldn't say anything. He had planned what he would tell you, what words he would use. But everything crubled when he saw you and your shocked face.

He cleared his throat and just pulled a boquet from behind his back.

It was just like the ones you always tried to give him. It was carefully picked, with smiliar colors to the ones from the past.

He was nervous, he didn't remember the last time he was so nervous. He felt his hands become wet and he subconciously fixed his collar as if trying to get more air. He even forgot to breath as he glanced into your eyes, not brave enough to fully look into yours.

And what did you do?

What else could you do, but to finally hug the man that you wanted to love for years?

For a moment Simon stood there sttuned as he quickly extended his hand that held the flowers so you wouldn't crush them, and then without any hesitation hugged you thightly with his other arm.

A loud, relieved and a slightly shaky breath left his lips. You really didn't hate him, something he was afraid of, to the last second.

You accepted the flowers that he carefully picked, the total opposite to what happend when you two were kids.

You didn't crush them, you accepted them as you both finally grew up to care for the feelings between you.

"Stay with me."

These were Simon's words, he gave you another way to show your love for him, so what else could you do but to accept and stay with him?

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 12.0k+

warning | car crash / not edited since the first time i posted this story

note | bye-bye baby, i love you baby. more than that body pillow drabble at least.​

parts | one, two, three

After the doctor bandaged your hands and did some checkup on you to make sure you had sustained no more damage from the fall, you were glad to hear that they would take up the responsibility to call Minho’s parents instead.

You could not find the energy to talk to anyone about anything—perhaps you would give Yuna an earful about what happened, but she was gone by the time you got picked up by others around the scene. Tears kept falling down your face when you were getting treated, and the doctor in charge stopped asking you if she was hurting you anymore. It was obvious that your concern lay on someone else.

How did this happen? You always thought you would be so agile and smart during emergencies. The cold water of truth once again splashed down on you, reminding you that just because you think you’d be cool doesn’t mean you would be when your thoughts turn into reality. This isn’t the law of attraction, you can’t manifest the car away and you sure as well can’t manifest peace.

You sighed, your lashes wet and your under-eye pained from all the rubbing. It had to happen this way, didn’t it? The car crash was, unfortunately, essential in your drama. If it wasn’t the kidnapping, it if wasn’t the psychotic mother, if it wasn’t even the love triangle, then it would be the goddamn car crash. And as usual, it was infuriating and you wished it hadn’t happened.

It wasn’t that you minded the car crash (you would like to not see it as a plot device so often, though). You just hoped it hadn’t been Minho who got hit because he cared enough to save you from it. And now you were left here, sitting in the hospital lobby and being haunted by all the gut-wrenching components of a drama car crash.

Broken hands, broken legs, brain dead, blindness, mute, deaf, paralyzed, coma, a sudden discovery of cancer, a sudden discovery of related bloodlines, a sudden discovery of a terminal illness. You squealed under your breath as you went down the list, approaching the most common trait of them all—amnesia.

Sure, dramas usually have this rule where all you needed to endure was one to two months of hardships where Minho would revert to hating your guts, and then he would either fall in love with you again or you would give him the magical kiss of memory revival and he would suddenly remember your past together.

But those are often so unpredictable! You have watched hundreds of dramas that spin down several different lanes, and all of them have left you heartbroken one way or another. And by now you have learned how much different it would be for you to have to experience such events by yourself! If you could cry so hard because of what those pixelated people are going through, how would you begin to cope with experiencing it yourself?

A sob forced itself up to your throat, your chest sustained the pain of holding it in for too long it felt like you swallowed too many things at once, it felt like you were suffocating. You were afraid. So far, you have skated through every event with a very humorous coping mechanism, one that never does any long-term help. But this was different, this could last forever.

No, this wasn’t supposed to be the forever you experience. You two have just begun, you two were just starting to love each other loudly and happily. You haven’t had enough yet, you wanted more time! The gate to Heaven shouldn’t be allowed to close itself at people’s faces!

“Hello? Excuse me?”

You looked up at the doctor standing in front of you and immediately stood up, wiping your eyes on cue even though you had passed the point of crying and ceasing the chaos in your head. “Yes! How–how is Minho?”

“Good. He only got a few fractured ribs, a bad concussion, and a badly scraped forehead. He didn’t suffer any damage to his internal organs and there are no signs of internal bleeding,” the doctor explained. “He just needs to rest for now, but I estimate that he will wake up sooner than expected. You can wait in his room if you want to.”

You heard everything she said crystal clear. You even went so far as to repeat it in your head. Fractured ribs and concussion, ouchie but at least there wasn’t any internal damage that always sounded so life-threatening. This should be great news, but why did it sound so suspicious to you?

“Really? You are sure, doctor?” you asked, “He didn’t like…lost his eyesight or paralyzed or… I don’t know, cancer? Amnesia?”

“This is a car crash, I don’t think it will cause him cancer,” she replied calmly. If she was annoyed at your stupid questions, she was trained well not to show it on her face. “And no, we did all the scans. There is nothing else, I assure you.”

“But I swear I saw blood back then, what does that mean?”

“He scraped his forehead when he fell. We did sutures on the wound, which is going to leave him a scar but we can try to minimize it as best as we can,” she said.

Huh, bummer. Maybe I should order another car crash.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time. My apologies.

You thanked the doctor quickly then, wanting to do nothing more than to see him. But before you could leave, she held you back and shifted through her pocket for something she intended to give you.

"The paramedic stopped me and told me to give this back to Mr.Lee when you guys went in, but I assume it is yours?” she said as she pulled out a dark blue velvet box and handed it to you.

It was a ring box, with your ring stored securely in it. You felt a rush of tears piling at your eyes again but you held them down and nodded. “Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s still for me.”

“Pretty sure it will. He wouldn’t buy you a ring if he didn’t care enough to jump in front of a car for you.” She shrugged. “His room is right around the corner, you can ask the nurses around.”

You bid her goodbye then, watching her rush away as her pager beeped. Then you returned your attention to the ring. You took it out of the box and slipped it on, admiring the way it still fits perfectly around your finger. You became his and you would always be from now on; wearing the ring is an act of taking a physical vow. Clasping the box shut, you put it in your pocket carefully before heading to where the doctor pointed you.

This was painstakingly familiar, Minho thought as he opened his eyes once again to welcome the flood of nausea and ugly ceiling lights. He hasn’t been in the hospital for a long time but he could tell he was in one from the saturated smell of alcohol and the overall sickly atmosphere. Shutting his eyes immediately after waking up, he groaned hoarsely as he recalled what events led up to this moment and realized he would have to be bedridden once more.

What a shame, you would have to take care of him again—hey, hold on a second! Where were you?

Minho snapped his eyes open, panic overwhelming the revolting weight laid atop of his body and brain. He did push you out of the way, right? He remembered he did, but he couldn’t be sure if you both were lucky enough to not have a second careless driver grace the crossroad. Or what if you bumped your head too hard on the ground and got a bad concussion? Or what if he didn’t push you far away enough for the car not to hit you?

He turned his head over to the door, wanting to call for a nurse and ask them millions of unprepared questions, but he stopped in his tracks abruptly when his gaze shivered downwards and he found you sleeping with your head on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t even registered the feeling of his hand being held by yours, the pulse oximeter and the IV on his left arm had taken away most of his sense of touch.

Calming down, Minho relaxed against the pillows and exhaled in relief. He would much rather have you here and sleeping in an uncomfortable position than laying on a bed with a heart monitor beeping next to your bed. Lowering his head so he could look at you, he softened at the way your cheek was squeezed against your forearm and the fading redness visible under your once tearful eyes. Oh, how he longed to reach out and touch you right now, the desire was immeasurable.

His mellow eyes trailed over to your hand, the one laying on the side of his legs, and he frowned slightly at the heavy white gauze wrapped around your lower palm. Getting a scrape when he pushed you away like that is likely inevitable; it got the job done, thankfully, he hoped it didn’t hurt you too much. He was promoted to move his hand when he saw yours, the one you had your own pinned down on the bed softly, and it was then when he felt the roughness of the gauze rubbing against his skin as well.

With a grimace, he looked over to where your hands were stacked on top of each other, and he held his breath when he finally noticed the shining diamond sitting prettily on your finger.

You put the ring back on.

The box must have flown out of his pocket when he got hit. He had been taking it with him everywhere recently just in case the perfect timing to give it back to you turns out to be a place where he couldn’t have access to it immediately. Besides, holding the box in his hand had always reminded him of you, and he liked being reminded of you from time to time throughout the day.

It made him feel less jittery, less annoyed at the general things, and it got him excited to return home at the end of the day.

Minho couldn’t think about anything else at the moment; all that flooded his mind was how much more fulfilling it was to see the ring on your finger rather than in the box, how things should have been this way all along, and what it all meant now that you’ve worn it back.

Forgiveness for his aloofness in the past, a firm acceptance of this marriage, and that he has become someone who can be loved by you.

His shaky eyes were filled with droplets, creating a glassy sight in his already glittery eyes. Feeling you stir on your spot, he slowly moved his head up so he could watch you wake from your slumber. Your grogginess went away as soon as you met eyes with him, and instead of an excited squeal or a surprised gasp, the only thing that glossed over you was an immense relief.

Looking at you, Minho breathed out a quiet laugh, one that even you couldn’t hear. He felt your hand around him still, but your grip more secure now. In an attempt to chase the tears away from your eyes, he joked, “Stop frowning. Your face is gonna get stuck.”

“I’m glad you still remember that,” you laughed, lightly shoving his leg as your voice echoed the room. He gave you a knowing hum as if telling you it would be impossible for him to ever forget the unfunny jokes you liked to tell around the house so much, they were practically engraved in his mind.

Sitting up straighter now, your entire demeanor became gentler. Your senses less alert, your mouth quirked into a permanent smirk, and your fluffy gaze paying a constant focus on Minho. 

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” you asked slowly, propping yourself up on your intertwined hands and smiling brightly up at him.

“No,” he replied.

“Who am I?”

“You are [Name]. You have bad humor, you forced pizza down my throat once, and you made me like soap opera,” he said, finding his voice back as more words gradually left his lips. And then he paused for a moment, a dramatic moment where he eyed you lovingly, watching as your brows raised in anticipation. “And I think I might be your husband.”

A joyous sob came in the form of giggle and Minho whined at the strands of tears that danced down your cheeks. He reached out to you, wanting to wipe your tears away for you, but you stopped him and told him not to move. Instead, you got up from the chair and scooted closer to the edge of the bed so you two could be closer at face level.

You slipped your arm under this head and the other reached to cup his jaw. You kissed his forehead, once and twice, then you pulled away just enough for you to look at him fully. Ah, you were so filled to the brim with affection for him; it was so new to you but so real the same time that you were not afraid of diving headfirst into it.

“I think you are my husband,” you whispered with a small nod.

He smiled. “Thank you for having me again.”

You gave him a smile before leaning down to kiss him again. This time you didn’t stop at his forehead. Your soft lips trailed down his eyes, his nose, his cupid’s bow, and before you could kiss him on the lips as you had always wished, you pulled away with a puff of nervous breath. You stared into his eyes, feeling the same longing in the way his hand found your wrist and he held onto you.

What are you waiting for? For permission? For him to get better? Go on, kiss him.

You two will be fine, you won’t hurt each other.

Pressing your lips against his tentatively, you felt a rush of adrenaline racing around your lungs. It made you feel hypersensitive, like a supernatural who could hear and see and feel beyond the human spectrum—the forced nudge of your noses, the beating in your ears, the softness of his lips, your quickened breathes, his soft locks flowing between your fingers, his grip on your wrists tightening to keep you with him.

It was all so overwhelming, the intimacy and the desperation. The emotions came in tiny waves, similar to the way the ocean feels when you stepped your feet on the shore. It drowns you out, it lets you breathe, it drowns you out again. You kiss, you breathe, and you kiss him again. No matter how many times the cycle continues, no matter how many times the seawater brushes past your skin, you get surprised by it and you keep yearning for more.

Your heart was hanging by a thread, any minute now it would leave your chest and land itself straight into Minho’s palms.

Hesitantly pulling away, you kept your mouths close enough for him to still feel you against his lips. He leaned in a little, breathing out a whine that made you realize your heart was already in his hands long ago. Swallowing down a breath, you whispered, “Do you remember, that I love you?”

He nodded, his lashes fluttering as he glanced down at your lips again and back up at your eyes, “I will now.”

Minho’s heart was yours too, long ago, and you’ve learned that.

You jolted awake in the middle of the night. Heavy breaths left your lips as you sat up against the arm of the couch. Your heart was beating quickly like you had just run a mile around the track field.

It was nothing like the way you used to be yanked out of sleep. It wasn’t like your head hitting against your desk in a boring lecture, or when you brutally died in a bad dream. This one was different. You were not falling asleep and you weren’t dreaming. It was different in a way that all you saw during your ‘consciousness’ was blackness, paired with a familiar voice you never thought you would hear again.

“Mom?” you whispered as you quickly scanned your surroundings, looking for the sight of your mother.

But you were still in the hospital room. You were sitting on the couch located at the corner of the room, with your phone and leftover takeaway food resting on top of the small table before you. The moon has gone up and the sky has turned darker than night, you glanced over and found Minho sleeping on the bed as he should.

You were back in where you were supposed to be, but your mother’s voice felt genuinely real during your supposed dream. Sitting up straighter and putting your feet down on the ground, you ran your hands through your hair to force yourself into concentration. Why did you jolt awake at your mother’s voice? There should be no reason for you to find her a threat unless you felt like you were being pulled out of this world.

Like you were falling, like you were falling out of this place, like you were leaving this world and back to reality.

“Oh god,” you gasped as you snapped your head up, your eyes wide.

Great, you were finally piecing the puzzle together, [Name]. I’m glad. 

You have exhausted your one near-death experience when you almost got hit by a car yesterday. If Minho hadn’t pushed you to the side and you got hit then things would have been different; you’d be hit by the car, got sent to a hospital to get fixed, and nothing would have happened. Alas, Minho did push you out of the way, and now you have reached the limit, which was only one. If you remember clearly, the way you arrived to this world was by waking, so when you return home, you would find yourself waking up as well. 

Except this time, you would be alone, and Minho never existed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated under your breath, biting your nails in an attempt to ease out the spiraling anxiety permanent in your head. It was all hitting you too quickly—the near-death theory, the memories you have of your real life, or the lack thereof, feeling like you were being pulled out of your own body, going back to reality, leaving Minho here.

I reckon this would be better for you, actually. The anxiety keeps you awake, and the pacing around keeps you active and forces your eyes open. It would be sooner or later, though, when you find yourself dozing off due to the inability to stay awake any longer. That’s when things get bad for you because as soon as you fall asleep, you will wake up in a whole different place. A familiar place, but different, nonetheless. 

Oh, but how could this be? You have just worn the ring, you two have just kissed for the first time. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being separated from Minho and you didn’t want to leave him yet! You never want to leave him ever! There was still so much for you two to do! You needed more time. You both needed more time!

“[Name]?”

“Huh–oh, hey, Minho.” You moved over to him with a smile. “Did I wake you?”

He could see the panic in your eyes and he frowned. “Are you okay? You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep–”

“Oh, I–” Your bottom lips quivered.

How long would you be able to hide it before he finds out? How long could you stay awake and act normal for? How would you be able to explain why you always look so exhausted? Minho should know the truth, he deserved to know that you have been hiding something important from him the whole time. Besides, it would be such a shame if you leave him unprepared for your departure. He’s the one who has to remember, after all. 

“I’m not leaving!”

Oh, yell at me, why don’t you?

“Hey,” Minho grabbed a hold of your hand, his brows furrowed up at you, “what is going on?”

You stayed still to pull yourself together for a few seconds, breathing slowly, and then you looked back at him. “I have something to tell you.”

He could sense the solemnity in your voice and it terrified him. You had shown him a large range of your emotions before, from playful to angry to loving, but he has never seen you look so helpless. Tugging at your hand, he kissed your knuckles softly and nodded. “What is it?”

And you told him everything, struggling to make your story coherent despite only having the absolute truth escaping your lips. You told him from the very moment when you found yourself waking up next to him, and then when you were still figuring out what to do with ‘your’ past broken relationship, to adapting quickly and blending into this world. Everything up until this point, when you were so close to forgetting where you came from only to have reality force itself back into your head again.

It was taking Minho a long time to comprehend all the information thrown at him. When it seemed like he was finally done, he moved his eyes over to you and he tilted his head with a sigh. “That is a very deliberate joke.”

Right, you should have anticipated a reaction like that. It would be too easy if he brought it immediately. You pulled a face. “It’s not a joke, Minho.”

“Oh, so you are trying to tell me you aren’t from this universe and you aren’t even who you are before you came here?” he said, confusion evident on his tired face and his voice rising as he went on. “You are basically suggesting parallel universes exist?”

“No–I mean, yeah? It could be true?” You shrugged, and then you shook your head. “The point is–I can feel myself leaving this place and I am pretty sure as soon as I fall asleep, my time will be up. I just felt like I should tell you because you deserve to know.”

Despite how serious you sounded throughout your entire explanation, he just couldn’t bring himself to take you seriously. It was too absurd, the whole concept of waking up in another place. Sure, you did suddenly change overnight and you did feel much different than you did before, and there had been certain very subtle hints that could back your point up, but it was not enough for Minho to believe in what you just told him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name]. You’ve been really tired,” he said again, trying to persuade you into going back to bed.

Disappointment flashed before your eyes. Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you looked away, unsure what else you could do to convince him. The only thing you were sure about was that you absolutely could not fall asleep, no matter how tired you were. You planned to hang on for as long as you could, and hopefully, Minho would come around and believe you by then.

“I am just gonna go take a walk and come back,” you said, smiling faintly. “You should go back to sleep though.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You can sleep with me on the bed if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“You know I can’t,“ you said. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, you moved away from the bed slowly. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up with breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You closed the door, leaving him alone in the darkroom. Minho pouted, he was thinking too much to be able to just fall asleep now. The fact that he couldn’t just sleep sort of gave him a sense that he was leaning towards believing it and he was just in the stage of denial. If he really thought it was a joke then he should have no problem brushing it off, right?

He leaned back against the pillow, his fingers grasping at the air and his head filled.

Would you really leave? Just like that? More importantly, would he be able to tell if you left?

"Did you sleep?”

“They did not,” Changbin replied casually as he slammed a plastic bag on top of the table. Leaning down and proceeding to take out the takeaway food, he handed you a small box of food and looked up at Minho again. “They were up the whole night.”

“Did you seriously stay up the whole night?” Minho asked, brows furrowed at the unexpected visit by Changbin. He wanted to ask why he decided to tag along with you, but he figured it was much more important to know what happened with you last night.

“I did,” you sighed, shoving the chicken into your mouth and moaning at its delicious taste.

After realizing it would be almost impossible for you to stay awake on your own, which was such bullshit because you swore you used to have the ability to pull all-nighters like it was nothing, you ended up calling your last resort—Seo Changbin. Feeling bad that you had to wake him up in the middle of the night, you gave him the same explanation you gave Minho, and like your husband, he was extremely reluctant to accept it.

But you weren’t sleeping at all. And while Changbin had the suspicion that you were just taking this 'joke’ a little too far, he decided to humor you for the night and stayed up with you. And you spent the night over at his home, doing anything and everything to keep yourselves from falling asleep.

“Didn’t they tell you about the story?” Changbin asked, popping open a can of soda and looking at Minho as he drank. “I still don’t believe it but they were so hell-bent on not sleeping, I might just let them have it.”

“What–Changbin, I thought you believed me!” you whined, punching his behind and shoving him to the side.

“If I come over and tell you I’m not actually me and I came from another dimension, would you have believed me?” Changbin retorted, rubbing the spilled drink off his chin.

“I don’t have to because first of all, I met you for the first time at the shopping mall and I know nothing about you,” you pointed out. “Second of all, I am going through it right now. I am telling you, if I fall asleep, you will never see me again.”

“You don’t have proof that you aren’t you, [Name],” Minho chimed in, sighing in defeat as he slumped back against the bed.

Changbin pointed at you with wide eyes then, nodding in agreement. Sitting up from the couch, you turned your head to find Minho grimacing at you, and you heave a sigh. Proof. Where the hell would you find the proof to explain that you are who you are? Identity isn’t a tangible thing, no amount of paperwork can shape it for you.

“Look, I am telling the truth, alright? Or at least I am saying what I know,” you said as you grabbed a box and headed over to the bed. You handed the food to Minho, who refrained from throwing a mini tantrum the way he did before due to Changbin’s presence. Sitting down on the chair you had also pulled over, you sighed. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to take the risk and sleep.”

You looked at Minho, your brows raising slowly to display a vulnerably honest expression. No malice was hidden behind your eyes, your gaze only directed at him. “I don’t want to leave you, Minho.”

His munching halted. He could feel a hint of unease at the bottom of his stomach, possibly due to what you said and the soft way you said it. As if you were afraid, cautious. Lowering his hand, he inhaled, kind of wishing his inner voice would kick him in the head and give him a little nudge to the right path.

But really, what more was there left to say, Minho? [Name] has said all they could.

“You are not going leave me,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “Not consciously, no.”

Minho pursed his lips. Think carefully; for him to convince himself of what you said, he has to nitpick the past and the present, like separating different colored peas with chopsticks.

Starting from the day you met him, you said you have no idea what his name is and you woke up in his bed even though he had this terrible rule of not sleeping together. That was one. Then you forgot about the marriage; you were surprised by the ring on your hand so much that you even asked him for the price. That was two. You went into his closet, even when you were banned from touching certain things that were his. That was three. These were all rules to be broken, but the old you never had the guts to do that. It didn’t make sense for the courage to suddenly appear.

Asking for a divorce and acting like you didn’t know it was arranged, forgetting that your parents were dead, completely unbothered by Yuna’s presence, suddenly knowing how to cook up a whole meal, eating lots of greasy food, profoundly cursing, being playful enough to give him nicknames and make bad jokes.

Aside from that, he could physically tell, now that he thought about it with a clearer head. You were less timid and much louder. Sure, you have your moments of tenderness, but overall you felt much more energized and much happier than before. It was a difference in your presence—you didn’t use to light up the room when you walk into one, but now all Minho could see was you whenever you come into his line of sight. And that was before he fell so in love with you.

The pieces were adding up to an unbelievable story. 

Minho looked up at Changbin, his gaze hardened. “Can you leave us alone for a moment?”

You widened your eyes at his troubled look, then you turned around and urged your best friend away as well, promising to find him later when your private talk ends. Changbin rolled his eyes and unwillingly left, and then it was finally just you and him.

Minho started without waiting. “Let me recap everything. You came here not knowing who I am or what this place is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “does this mean you believe me now?”

“Wait–why didn’t you tell me before then?” he asked.

“I thought I would leave soon and return to where I came from. I didn’t expect to stay so long,” you said. “Also, drama taught me it is better to keep my identity hidden.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “So, you suspect that the way for you to go back is through a near-death experience?”

“And falling asleep later,” you hummed. “This one I learned out of instinct, but I’m sure it’s happened before on some show.”

Minho scoffed, “You can’t trust dramas all the time. They’re made up.”

“Yeah, but this feels too much like one for me to ignore it! I mean, look at this!” You pointed at him, smiling bitterly. “Look at you! I would have never been able to snatch a guy like you if I was back in my world. I was a huge loner. All I did was work and have fleeting crushes.”

He watched as you lowered your arm, your smile dimming significantly. “Honestly, I don’t even know if you love me or who used to be me.” You shrugged, not looking at him. “I am a new person to you now, right?”

Minho licked his lower lip. That problem has never crossed his mind before since it was so obvious that he loved you. His affection was never there, it wasn’t affection for you before. But then he started developing feelings of his own for you, steaming from a threatening turn where he might lose the care and obedience he was used to receiving. He just used to like being loved by 'you’, now he liked loving you; he liked the mutual feelings you two shared.

If all were true, then there was a whole world behind you he’s never known. You previous life, your friends, your fleeting crushes.

“Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

You stood up from the chair and carefully climbed onto the spot next to him. You back hit against the side rail, preventing you from falling off, while Minho pushed his hand against your waist to keep you close to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, a sigh leaving your lips quietly.

“You know, I thought you were funny, back when you first came here,” he said. “A little infuriating, yes, but amusing nonetheless.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you commented, giggling when he cleared his throat and nudged the top of your head with his jaw.

“You could have totally snatched me up even if we are not in this setting,” he said. “You aren’t like other people. You treat me differently.”

Ah, and the iconic line finally decided to make its appearance. I was hoping it’d at least happen once for you to hear it because you would only be able to hear it from Minho’s mouth.

“What do you mean different? I treat you the same way everyone treats you!” you said, suppressing a chuckle. You weren’t sure if that line had boosted your ego but it sure did make you feel quite special, as cliché as it was, but honestly? As a society, we should all establish that clichés don’t matter.

“No, you were so casual and honest. I think you are the only person who has given me nicknames aside from my old friends back in high school.” He nodded with a shaky laugh. He patted your waist in a beckoning motion, seeming excited. “And you’re even more different than others now because you are the only person I love, in that special kind of way.”

“What are you, five? Special kind of way–that’s lame!” you exclaimed, laughter escaping in between. When you quieted down, you pressed yourself closer to him and looked up.

He only glanced down when he felt your lips at the side of his jaw. And he kissed you then, leaning his head down eagerly to capture your lips. You were careful with moving around, your hand going up to stop at the nape of his neck, rubbing comfortingly as your mouths danced with each other sensually.

This could never be enough. Minho wanted more than this, he thought as he tugged you closer to him, feeling your chest against his side. This could never be enough. He wanted to do more than kissing you in a hospital bed. He wanted to kiss you under the moon, to kiss you at home, to kiss you during a spontaneous snack run at midnight. He wanted to eat junk food and get emotional about fictional characters with you; he wanted to see you read books while he worked on the side.

Minho wants you with him, always.

You pulled away, gasping a little at how teary his eyes had suddenly become. You didn’t need to ask why. You could already tell. “Do you believe me now?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to.” Minho let out a shaky breath. “If I do then I will have to accept the fact that you might leave me soon.”

A sobbing noise spiked from the back of your throat as you reached up to peck his lips. “I will try my best to stay awake for as long as I can, Minho.”

He nodded, even though the fact alone broke him, the fact that you two have to settle for 'as long as you can.’

You jolted awake again, this time in Minho’s workroom with a new book held loose in your hands.

You kept the lights on for the sake of having an awake atmosphere even though you knew very well that would do nothing to help your exhaustion. Looking up from the couch, you found it hard to just squint at the clock hanging above your head, but you saw that it was long past midnight already.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch as you kicked your legs in frustration. You were officially three days in, all three days you went without a lick of sleep. And you put in lots and lots of effort to accomplish that, such as eating, doing yoga, shopping, scrolling the internet, and indulging yourself in many new shows filled with more than seven seasons of emotions.

It was painful. Your body felt heavy and your eye bags were probably getting bigger as you went on. Your mind was slow, you zone out too much and you kept dozing off. The only thing keeping you from falling into slumber was the sickening feeling of you astral projecting out of this place.

You didn’t want to cry though. Not only would it make you feel even more exhausted, but it would also make you feel weak, and you didn’t want to feel pathetic that way if you were doing this so you could stay with the love of your life.

Huffing out a groan, you got off the couch and left the room. You were much more familiar with the house by now, you could practically walk anywhere with your eyes closed as long as you knew where you started. You walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly before a pair of doors.

Minho’s closet was as you remembered it was. Black and white, very minimalistic, with clothing racks lining up against the wall. One thing has changed, though, he has opened up a space for clothes you got him from time to time. The ones you thought he would look good in and he occasionally wears around in the house when he didn’t need to be in formal attire.

You flipped through the clothes, remembering where each one of them came from with a smile. It was quite funny as well, to see how the clothes gradually grew to be more accurate in his size with the more you brought.

Pulling a sweater off the rack, you admired the soft material by kneading it between your fingers, then you hugged it close to your chest. You brought the fabric close to your face, inhaling the warm scent you’ve gotten used to smelling on your own clothes as well.

You never tried to look into what detergent the housekeeper used to wash your clothes, but you always thought it had an artificial smell of some type of flower you have never smelt the actual scent of before. It stopped mattering now that you have gotten so accustomed to the smell. It just has the scent of a home, and home is Minho for you.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled out to control your quickened breathing. A sob threatened to break out but you muffled it with his sweater, clinging onto it like it was your life-line.

It has been so difficult for you. Staying awake beyond your limit and trying to smile with everyone else; you couldn’t even tell Minho how you felt when he asked if you were okay because a part of you dreaded that he’d let you go. You felt alone, worrying and fearing for the day you would leave this place.

Standing in his closet and having his scent so close to you pushed you past the breaking point. All you knew was that you wanted to stay with Minho, and knowing how sleep would be inevitable made you cry.

The past three days have only been about that. You couldn’t afford to think about anything else.

You stood there alone and sobbed for as long as your body allowed. When you were done, you dropped the sweater on the rack and took off your own just so you would wear it.

It felt warm, big and warm, just like Minho.

You felt another sob bubbling up.

Minho could tell you have been crying when you arrived to visit him for the night.

It has become increasingly difficult for him not to notice how worn out you were, not to mention having to neglect it and pretend as if nothing was happening. Although you were the one who was so determined to keep yourself in this place, and of course, he too wanted you to stay here, he couldn’t help the gruesome guilt that rips through his veins whenever he sees that defeated state of yours.

You were dozing off on the couch again. He could somehow feel it whenever you’ve got your eyes closed, it was like a tingly sense that shoots down his spine. Even then, he always looks over to check if you are, and you were this time, your chin squished against the base of your palm with your elbow propped up against the armrest of the couch. You were dozing and waking, an indefinite cycle that would only stop until you reach the point of insanity, he supposed.

When this first happened, when he first saw you with your eyes closed and unresponsive, he used to have this knot in his stomach that would tighten harshly in a way that makes him hallucinate pain. The fear used to make him want to throw up, it used to make his face go red and his fist curl until the nails dig deep into his skin. It feigns an anxiety attack for him, and God knows how to properly handle those.

“[Name]!” he repeatedly called for you, feeling the knot inside of him release its chokehold slowly the longer he has to call for you. But you woke up eventually, your body falling to the side and the sudden impact yanking you out to sleepiness.

You looked around and heaved a sigh, whether it was a relieved one was uncertain to everyone, including you. Turning over to look at Minho, you tilted your head and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

Your posture was terrible, like usual but much worse now that your shoulders were hunched all over and your neck cranked in longing to take a decent break. Your body was fidgety, a habit you picked up to keep yourself active in movement so you wouldn’t fall asleep. The dark circles under your eyes were starting to get more visible than the smile Minho had always paid more attention, and there was no light in your eyes, just a pit of shadowy doom.

Maybe you were trying your best, but you couldn’t look at him like you love him anymore; your eyes physically could not manifest the affection you felt.

This was his fault. Maybe it wasn’t, you certainly would never blame him for this, but Minho still felt like he was the one putting you through all of this. And he hated seeing you so out of place because you haven’t slept in days, and for what? To get a few more days with him? Honest to God, your mind was barely with him these days anyway.

Minho pursed his lips into a thin line, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. And he shook his head. “You should go to sleep. This is killing you.”

You were quick to turn down his suggestion. “No.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” you said. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well, you are going to have to go either way so why not make that earlier?” he asked, raising his voice, causing your defenses to build up quickly.

You stood up from your seat, your eyes wide in a glare for the first time in days. “What is your problem, Minho? Do you want me to leave so bad?”

“I don’t–“ he breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes to keep his temper low now that yours have been shorter than usual. “I don’t want you to leave. If I get to choose, I will always choose to have you stay here with me, but look at yourself!”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re tired, you are so tired. You have been crying, you eat slow, your temper is short, you barely react to anything anybody says. Even the nurse who came in to check up on me this afternoon asked if you are okay because you don’t look okay!” he exclaimed. Then, sucking in a breath as if gargling his words, he exhaled through a soft huff before he whispered, “I love you, [Name], so much. But not like this. Not when you are so miserable because of me.”

If his existence is causing you pain then he’d rather not have it. As selfish as he wanted to be, he would choose to let you go.

Your arms dropped to your side and you rolled your eyes up. You have told him the same thing before. God, you felt like one of those female leads who cry every single episode, it was so enraging. Everything you have sought to not become, you’ve become it.

Minho moved to the side on his bed, leaving you a spot, and he called out, “Come here.”

You looked back down at him, your sight blurred at the thought of what he meant to do. You were going to walk over, he would wrap you in his arms, and you would fall asleep to his warmth. He would still be here but you would be somewhere else. It would be quick, it would happen before you even know it.

“Come here, please?” he asked again, softly. “Let me hold you.”

You rubbed your eyes and moved over slowly. He helped you as you climbed onto the bed, snuggling up next to his side with your head laid on his shoulder and his arms securely around your torso. He squeezed your arm and breathed out a joking giggle, mentioning something about you getting chubbier and earning a hit on the chest in return.

His fingers shifted through your hair when you looked up at him, and he smiled down at you like nothing was going wrong. Eyeing his lips once, you didn’t hesitate to reach up for a long, loving kiss, one where your tears were mixed with the taste of his mouth.

When you pulled away, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “This is actually pretty funny. I am the one who got injured but here we are, crying over you leaving instead.”

You laughed silently, bringing him closer to you. Minho has steady breathing but his heart beat quickly. It rattled against your ears, reminding you that he was as nervous as you were about losing each other. Your senses were shutting down slowly, ready to go into rest when you finally gain the sleep your body has been screaming at you to get.

“I’m sleepy, Minho,” you muttered, adjusting your head.

“I know. You can sleep, it’s okay,” Minho hummed. “You can go. I’m gonna be fine.”

You licked your lower lip, the dryness giving you a sticky sensation. “Love them as much as you love me, alright?”

He couldn’t do that. But he wouldn’t tell you, he wanted you to go without any troubles lingering in your head. He wanted you to leave happily, or as happy as you could be.

Kissing your forehead, he felt your breathing ease up. His hand rubbed your back soothingly as he asked, “Will you remember that I love you?”

You didn’t answer.

Minho stirred uncomfortably in the single hospital bed. As his sense slowly returned to him, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you from falling off. It was nighttime outside, and he supposed a nurse dropped by and turned the lights off when he saw you both sleeping. He could barely remember what happened before he was knocked out.

You shifted slightly by him, head nuzzling against his chest before looking up to find the owner of the body you were cuddling.

“[Name]?” Minho called.

The person jolted from their place. Feet landing coldly on the floor, they fixed their hair and took a wide step away from the bed. “Minho! I’m sorry!” 

His heart dropped. There was his answer: he could tell.

Same face. Same body. Same voice. 

Not you.

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned at the pain oozing at your side. What the hell happened? You could see that you were back in your room, which was weird because the last time you checked, you were on your way to work. You remembered waking up late and rushing out of your apartment, and then everything simply went blank from there.

“Oh, you’re awake! I thought you died or something!”

You sat up on your bed and furrowed your brows at your brown-haired friend. Rubbing your eyes, you yawned and scanned your room, taking in its unfamiliarity with intense suspicion before you turned back to your smiley friend and asked, “Did you move my shit?”

“I just got here like five minutes ago after your mom called me,” he deadpanned. “I was cooking you chicken porridge! She said you blacked out and slept for three days straight, you sleepyhead!”

“Three days–Chan what?” You got off your bed and headed over to your desk where your phone was. You weren’t sure why you needed to check the time, it held no significance to how you were in deep trouble with your boss for ditching work for three days. “Why did no one wake me?”

He handed you a glass of water first, seeing how frantic you appeared right after waking up in the middle of the day. You received it—snatched it—and quickly gulped down the liquid, feeling a sense of relief rush through you when the water hit your throat.

“We tried but you were knocked out cold.” He shrugged. “If you are worried about work, don’t. I talked to our manager for you already. I even exaggerated the part where you almost got in a car crash and died so you needed time to recover from it.”

The water spilled from the glass when you choked in shock. Your brows furrowed harshly as you pulled the glass away, causing more water to flow out of the cup, and you yelled at Chan, “What? I almost got in a car crash?”

He gave you a slow laugh, more concerned than annoyed that you’ve made a mess and yelled at him in the past five seconds. “You almost got hit by a car the other day when you left for work. You were looking at your phone and not paying attention. I had to pull you away from the road! Did you forget all of that?”

You placed the glass of water down on your desk, rubbing your mouth with your forearm harshly. As you brought your hand closer to your mouth, a painful scratch eliciting a yelp from you. Moving your hand away from your face, your eyes trailed up your arm and they widened when you saw the diamond ring located on your fourth finger. You cursed out loud, gaining Chan’s attention, and when his eyes moved towards what you were looking, he too mirrored your confused look.

“What is this!” you asked, looking at him.

“What is what–woah! Did you drunk buy this?” he asked, moving closer to examine the ring on your hand. “You need to return it. You’re crazy. You can’t afford this!”

“I know I can’t afford this,” you exclaimed, glaring at him in defeat. “But I swear I don’t remember ever buying this! Did you see me wearing this when I almost got hit by a car?”

Chan paused for a moment to think. He hadn’t really noticed back then, he was too busy trying to keep your phone-obsessed ass from dying. But if you didn’t have it back then, there should be no way for you to have it now. You have been bedridden, you could not have possibly gotten drunk within the last couple of days, and you would never buy a ring like that when you were sober.

“Did you steal it from someone?” he suggested, feeling the wrath of your impatience as he stepped away from you in precaution. “Oh but you couldn’t–“ 

“No! I don’t know where this ring came from, Chan,” you exclaimed, showing him your hands and grimacing at how perfectly it fit around your finger. “Also, can’t you humor the idea that maybe someone proposed to me?”

“Someone with the money to buy that ring? Uh, no,” he said honestly, putting his hands on his hips in a comical way.

Brushing him off, you slumped back onto your bed with your arm covering your eye. “Whatever. I’ll find out where I got it from somehow.”

“Or you can sell it,” Chan suggested.

You chuckled at the thought. Imagine the amount of money you could get from selling that ring. You did not know about diamonds but you could tell when one looks expensive. Bringing your hand up above your face, you shifted your hand to observe the ring more carefully. A weird sense of comfort rushed through you, making you relax further into your mattress. Coming after the comfort was a very bad sense of nostalgia, one that makes your heart ache for something you couldn’t remember.

“Actually, maybe I’ll keep it,” you muttered, eyes hazy the more you stared at the ring. “I think I want to keep it.”

“Okay.” Chan shrugged at the side. Moving over to your desk, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay? I need to go back to work. Lunch is over for me already.”

“Thank you,” you hummed from the bed, nodding. “I’ll come back to work as soon as I can.” 

“Before you get fired, at least.” He eyed you carefully. You laid motionless on your bed, completely out of it. He nudged your feet with his own to catch your attention. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am fine, Chan.” You rolled your eyes. “Stop nagging.”

He scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright?”

The nostalgia hit like a rush this time and you held down a flinch. For some reason, Chan didn’t sound so much like him when he said that, but you couldn’t tell whose voice that was. When you turned your head to look at him, your gaze shifted in rapid sequences, like frames changing on a television screen. Chan’s silhouette shifted in blurry motion into a man of slightly smaller but more visibly muscular stature. You felt your body jolt in recognition. 

Recognition? Pause. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Let me rewind it. 

Chan scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

You sniffed away a potential sneeze, hearing Chan’s giggle from your ridiculous expression. Throwing your head back against your bed, you waved your hand at him. “Just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

You hummed loudly in response, not bothering to look up at him. When you heard the front door lock, you groaned out a frustrated sigh and turned to your side. It has been a weird couple of minutes; you almost got in a car crash but you forgot, you slept for three days and you had no idea, you got a diamond ring on your hand which you have no recollection of ever getting. 

You brought your hand up and frowned. The ring was heavy on your hand and it would most likely disrupt your sleep. But there was something else—the nostalgia that was lapping at your chest one wave after another. A feeling beyond your imagination, resting against your heart carefully yet it rattles you like nothing ever has.

“Where did you come from?” you whispered to the diamond ring sitting perfectly on your finger. 

You decided not to take it off.

Never in a million years did Minho think he’d end up relying on Changbin, but he has no other option due to knowing a shared secret. 

“How are you feeling?” Changbin asked after he plopped down on the study room couch. 

Scatters of paperwork piled on the table were deliberately placed messily to distract Minho from his worries. If his eyes were occupied, his mind may be too. Turning the chair, he eyed Changbin nonchalantly by the desk. “My spouse left me.”

“Not good. Noted!” Changbin exclaimed with a single clap of his hands. He ended up awkwardly rubbing them as they laid themselves on his thighs. 

Silence emerged, much like every other time they’ve hung out together. If he could call it anything different, Changbin would consider these moments more mandatory emotional check-ups than hanging out with good friends. Not only was Minho not a good friend, not even with such a golden opportunity, but Minho was never in the mood for anything anymore. In some ways, he has reverted to his grumpy personality, only this time he knew how to be nice about it. He learned it from you. 

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?” 

Changbin looked up from his fiddling thumbs. Minho’s thousand-yard stare burnt holes through the ceiling, but Changbin wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the particular question he voiced. He’s done his fair share of deep-diving about parallel universes and whatnot. Understanding the theories was one thing; accepting that it has been carried out was another.

It still felt impossible. Changbin was holding onto the fact that you have never jumped anywhere, and it was a figment of your imagination that you somehow could portray excellently. 

A character change only takes a good performer or someone fully convinced they’re somebody else. 

The light glimmered as if to add glamour to the rigid atmosphere. Changbin let his neck rest on the back of the couch, and he shrugged. “If they do, you’ll be the first person they look for.”

Light returned to Minho’s eyes. He dreamt about that day. He wondered how it would go. Perhaps seamlessly as the day you first arrived. There won’t be chances of him missing your presence; not only would you make yourself seen, but he was more than sure he would know. A radar within himself would begin blaring sirens—he would just know if you were around again. And it would be a typical day. You would be at home, and he would return home. You would have dinner, you would go to bed together. 

It would finally be a normal day when you come back. 

For now, the glimmer in his eyes fades.

Weeks have passed with the same weight on your shoulders. You have come around to learn how to ignore it. You have learned to distract yourself from it. You work, hang out with people, and entertain yourself with the media. But even then, the grave mistake you made to not take that promise ring off your finger kept reminding you of the shaking sentiment that often shines at the end of the day.

You have looked through different online shops to find out where you could have gotten the ring from. It was a long stretch. You knew it would take ages to find the actual shop, but the promise of long-term confusion somehow assured you that you would have an excuse to keep it with you longer.

It has been weeks, though, and your hope was thinning. You could not find any matches, even after you personally headed over to the shops and asked the staff to take a closer look. You even went so far as to search for the lesser-known brands that would still make rings with diamonds as sparkly and extravagant as the one you got. Nothing, it was like the ring was custom-made, and that made you feel worse about having it.

It must have been really important to the owner, you reckon. It should not be in your hands.

“I feel bad for keeping it,” you spoke to the phone, where Chan sighed on the other side, most likely from irritation. The ring was all you talked about these weeks, aside from occasional work problems and drunken confessions you weren’t afraid to make to him.

“Then sell it.”

“But I don’t want to sell it.”

“Then what do you want to do? I keep giving you suggestions, and you keep shooting me down,” he complained with a helpless whine.

“I want you to tell me what to do!” you exclaimed.

“I say sell it,” he said.

“I don’t want to sell it.”

“I’m hanging up. I can’t take this abuse anymore,” Chan threatened with a yell of frustration. You could imagine him leaning against his chair and pushing it away from his desk, his eyes squinted into moon-shaped smiles, and his nose scrunched up in defeat.

“It’s just… this stupid ring is giving me weird vibes!” You stopped before the road and glanced down at the ring. “I feel sad but also happy when I look at it! Like some sort of deja vu!”

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while,” he said. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is.”

You frowned. Chan was no help at all. From your peripheral vision, you could see that people had started to cross the street, so you followed suit quickly, intending to not block the road and be yelled at by some caffeine-deprived stranger who hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep yet.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears.

A stranger reached their hand out to grab a fistful of your shirt so they could yank you back to safety. The pull was strong and panicky, like back when you were younger, how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. Your gaze wobbled when your head hit a slight whiplash at the force, the sky welcoming your view. Tears unnaturally welled in your eyes as your hands waited for the impact of the ground. 

“No,” you whispered, the blur of a car crash disappearing from your memories. “Minho–“

I will be scratching that off. Let me rewind. 

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before the sight of incoming cars made you freeze. 

A stranger reached their hand out to—

Uh, I'm also scratching that off. This is wrong. Nothing happens to you.

How did you manage to get yourself stuck in a near-death situation twice in a row? What is this? Is it some kind of manifestation theory? It's made up.

Let me rewind.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You jumped out of the way with a scream, missing the car by a few inches. It scraped past you, causing your body to fall back. Instead of catching yourself in the slow fall, you let your body flail about in the air as more cars slowly closed the distance between themselves and you. Pedestrians standing on the road couldn’t do anything out of sheer intimidation, born from the cars speeding toward you. You looked toward where the honking came from.

Alright, clearly, you are unknowingly in a disagreement with me. I have seen this in prior experiments. Something that involves the biological lack of freedom when your body moves toward what you truly desire? I have seen that before.

You will not hinder this experiment because of it. I am rewinding further.

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while. Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is,” Chan said. “Look, you’ve been thinking about this too much. How about we go get a drink tonight? 

“I don’t know, Chan,” you muttered with a sigh. “I’ve been feeling really depressed lately.”

“I’m surprised you don’t think I can tell,” he said. “How about this–I’ll buy some drinks, and we’ll hang out at yours. Beats heading outside, right?”

You closed your eyes. That could work. One of the biggest reasons the outside was so unappealing was that you had to step into it. Even now, with the sun shining on your head, you’re quickening your pace to go home.

If Chan was willing to go through the trouble of paying for drinks and hauling them to your apartment, you’ve got no complaints. It might also be an excellent way to forget about this whole deja vu situation.

“Deal,” you confirmed with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Chan giggled from the other side, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

The sequence repeats itself. I swore I scratched that off the document.

You snapped your head up from looking at the ground. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you—stop! I

can’t keep doing this. It’s your muscle memory, isn’t it? That damn biological manifestation theory is real.

Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road entirely, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears—you are suicidal. You are suicidal over a man your mind cannot begin to make out the silhouette of.

It's pathetic. Stop wasting my time.

You could see the cars coming, but your feet wouldn’t move. Your eyes stared through the danger into a beacon laid far away, the illusion of a man’s face you should have forgotten, and I know for a fact that you weren't supposed to acknowledge you have forgotten someone.

His name echoed silently through your mind, but his warmth remained on your body, in the shape of your arms and the weight on your finger. 

I insult you. I say you cannot remember his silhouette, and the next second, your spite draws a fraction of him in your mind. Or perhaps it wasn't spite but rather love? Is this the lesson you are teaching me? That love and spite are identical? That love stands beyond the mind and the body as its own concept?

You didn't choose to remember, yet you do. Returning to your true home was instinctive, and I’m afraid it is time for me to admit that I have no power to stop you.

Love goes beyond even me. Suppose that's a good lesson to learn.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears. Scared, your knees gave away, and you fell backward.

The screams of others and the urgent car honks were blocked out from your ears. You turned your head to the side and saw a truck running down the road towards you. This one would kill you, you would close your eyes, and you would leave this place. Your lips quirked uncontrollably. 

You would go back to him.

The mesh curtains stayed the same, useless against the sun but pretty with it. The bedsheet was as you felt it the first time, soft and silky yet thick and warm, the ones that make you sleep like you were in a goddamn coma. And Minho was the same as you last remembered seeing him—fluttery lashes, soft brown locks, and naturally pouty lips.

You remembered. 

You pursed your lips into a tight smile to keep a laughing sob from bubbling up your throat. Staring at him, you realize he made you feel the same as you last remembered, and immeasurable affection pulled at your fingertips, longing for a touch of his gentle skin and to feel him close to you. And you did, unapologetically, caressed his face with the back of your fingers.

Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to wake him up, but you wouldn’t admit that to yourself.

Minho stirred in his sleep at the touch. His brows furrowed before he opened his eyes, and when he saw you, his frown only deepened. You (or, well, ‘you’) have never tried to attempt this before, nor has he ever asked for love from them. His mind was occupied by somebody else, someone he thought would never come back to him ever again. Feeling this, having his cheek tenderly stroked in the morning, was surprising and weird.

“Hey, Minho,” you whispered, pinching his cheek slightly.

A shiver so strong it felt like a lightning zap ran down his body. His eyes widened slowly in recognition. He would know. He would just know. Through looking at you, through the feeling of your skin, through the way you space out your words, through the way you control your tone, through the way his ears react to your voice, through everything. He would know. He would be the first to know. 

His eyes moved across your features. You looked the same as he had always seen you, before and after you left. But there was one defining difference he could make: the ring on your hand wasn’t there before. You had taken it with you after you left this place, and now it’s back. 

“[Name],” he croaked out, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, gripping it gently.

“I’m home.” You nodded with a smile. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I’ll be late.”

The tears flow freely down his cheeks. It has been extremely difficult for him to revert to his usual lifestyle and pretend to be in love again. He had tried to bring himself to like ‘you,’ but it was useless. They simply felt different despite looking the same as you. 

He had missed your stupid jokes, the way you could come back home with bags of clothes he rarely has the chance to wear, and the food you cook. The little recurring moments he loved with you, he replayed them every night in the room and didn’t dare to allow himself to forget you.

You took the initiative and moved closer to him. Your palm was flat against his cheek now, and after you lovingly nudged the tip of your noses together, you leaned in to give him a long-awaited kiss. He melted against you, against your lips and your hand, with desperation in each curve of his mouth. He felt like he couldn’t let go. He knew he couldn’t let you go this time, never again.

Reluctantly pulling away, your dazed eyes stared right back into his. You touched his face again, smiling. Minho cupped your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours with a light whisper, “Do you remember who I am?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Who am I?”

The sun shone from outside, casting a ray of warmth at an empty ring box located at the corner of the desk.

“You are Lee Minho,” you said, giving his lips a peck. “You are my husband.”

And you remembered that he told you he loves you, just as you love him.