#Has a lot of responsibility placed on them (and a title) that puts them at odds with those they do not want to be at odds with

[winter-spark]

So my Sora and Sakuya piece actually did what I consider really well, which got me all giddy and I had to share more KH a3! thoughts so here is a "little" post on how I think an A3! world would work in Kingdom Hearts.

If A3! appeared in Kingdom Hearts, the World would be called Actor's Paradise, I don't make the rules.

(It's not called Veludo Way because that's one of the locations they'd get to visit, and also Zafra wouldn't fit under that title)

Thinking about this with the thought that in another game they'd appear again the storylines used (sorry Summer and Autumn troupes) would either be Spring Year 1 first visit, Winter Year 1 second visit, or Winter Year 1 first visit, Winter Year 2 second visit.

Why these points in time?

Spring Year 1 is the introduction, I feel like Sora helping them handing out flyers and stuff and preparing for the first life-altering show would be nice, it could sorta have KH2 Twilight Town (minigames) vibes. It would give Sora a good chance to bond with a small amount of people and give Mankai a special place in Sora's heart. Plus then Sora would be invested in the act-off vs. God Troupe because he helped Mankai with their first high-stakes play.

I feel like the act-off vs. God Troupe is a good event to use because there's a lot of negativity in this arc like first off *vividly gestures to WInter Troupe* second off *vividly gestures to Reni and Haruto*. I think Heartless would love to be here. And I think after the act off Haruto almost gets eaten by a Boss Heartless, but don't worry he is saved.

As for Winter Year 2, my original first thought on if KH had an a3! world was it'd be called Actor's Paradise and Zafra would be visitable mainly for a specific event/scene like the Clock Tower in Neverland in KH(1). I figured that the best time for that would be Year 2 Winter because otherwise, it'd have to be an event story storyline. And I just really wanted to include Zafra.

But now I'm full-on imagining it, imagine it with me, the only two locations (that Sora could access in the trip to Zafra) would be the Zafra theater and like the off-limits hallway. And/or the front area, the front area makes a lot of sense. So I guess three areas unless the hallway is just used for cutscene purposes, which could be the case if we're going for clock tower vibes. The front area would have the save point.

The reason Sora doesn't go with Chikage and Itaru is because Heartless are already starting to attack and so he, (Donald, and Goofy) are asked to help protect the younger Spring Troupe members especially because they'll have a looming worry over all their heads making them prime bait, also Chikage has already proven to somehow hold his own against the Heartless. (And then ya know Itaru wasn't included in the Chikage count originally). I also think that Chikage wouldn't want Sora, Donald, and Goofy to accompany him because they don't exactly scream stealth mission, plus, I think if I recall KH lore correctly, having the Keyblade sorta makes you a target and I think that would be a problem for Chikage's mission.

Then, then, when the Chandiler falls and while/after the people are evacuated, Orange's subordinate who actively ignored orders to not kill Citron, turns into a Chandiler/Flame Heartless, aka the Boss Heartless here and Sora fights 'em adding to the destruction of the theater lol.

{Alt, alt. of the visit schedule Spring Year 1 first visit, Winter Year 2 second visit but then there would be no proper introduction to Winter Troupe lol. None of those leave a proper introduction to Chikage? That's fine, that's one person who will have some strange skills Sora Donald and Goofy, are both impressed by and a little scared of(Donald is either like "he's not that impressive" or "gee Sora why aren't you that impressive ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º )" there's no in-between I don't make the rules.) Like maybe him handling the Heartless is how he meets our trio? Maybe a temporary team-up and they're all heading to Mankai and it's like "surprise! we know the same people". & Chikage is just like "（＾∀＾）I haven't met a single normal person since joining Mankai so yea this checks" How does his discomfort(?) with animals play in? I dunno, who's Chikage?}

As I conclude this I want to also say that these events are picked out with Sora in mind. If this was Sea Salt, Summer or Autumn troupe probably would be a good group for them to meet(I'm really feeling Banri & Roxas meeting tbh but also I think they could very easily join the "we love Tenma and making fun of him is how we show it" train). For Keyblade Knights it's sorta debatable, I would love for Aqua to meet Citron and Winter Troupe, but a part of me feels like Terra should meet Autumn Troupe, and then I start to go that route because not only does Terra meeting like each of them but especially Juza and Omi just make sense, but Taichi should probably meet Ven(why? I dunno) but I think really Ven would like to hang out with Summer Troupe, like come on he'd have so much fun with them. Maybe if it were in BBS Aqua would get the Spring or Winter plotline, Ven the Summer one, and Terra the Autumn one lol. Oh, I think Riku and Autumn troupe too tbh. Or maybe Riku and Winter Troupe. I think Riku meeting Banri and Juza is, like, almost something, but I also think that his vibes are kinda Winter Troupe, ya know?

Anyway, Sora and Sakuya would get along so well, they'd be besties really and truly and Citron would adore Sora because Sora, like Sakuya, is a big sweetheart. Tsuzuru agrees with Donald on something at some point and is just like 'Wow, I just agreed with a talking magical duck. What's next?' but also wonders if he could write something lowkey inspired by this. Itaru is like a combination of 'lol' 'this is kinda weird' and 'so is Sora like the chosen one? Having a Keyblade seems cool but also that looks like a lot of physical hard work, good luck with that *draws a picture of if he had Keyblade* *actively making sure Tsuzuru's taking notes for when he hires him*'. And Masumi just wants them to stop being so loud because they are lowkey always yelling.

I'm not gonna do any other meetings because this is highkey lowkey about Sora Donald and Goofy meeting Spring Troupe. But in the back of our minds, we should all think about Aqua and Citron meeting and Aqua teaching him how to make wayfinders anyway.

Thank you for reading all the way through this long post and it's bad jokes. ^^

[artists-ally]

Hi! So I was the anon that asked about size difference and I’m happy that you like it :) my request would be Harvey with a reader that’s on the shorter or petite side. Harvey cannot contain the thoughts running through his mind when his clothes easily drown you or how both your hands can be covered by his. I can just imagine him fucking the reader deep and groaning when he sees her tummy bulge 🙈

{My Hands, Your Lips} Reader x Harvey Specter

I'm gonna pretend I'm not as turned on by the thought of Harvey pushing my knees up to my ears and making fun of how much smaller I am than he is. Toootalllyyy not gonna do that... ahaha- Anywaaayyy enjoy!!! Title inspired by this song.

Word Count: 6,366

Warnings: Petite/Small reader, Smut; size kink, dom!Harvey, spitting, choking, degrading, spanking, bondage, mild breeding kink.

Tagging: @rosedpetal @blacktreacle22 @bbyanarchist

~~~~~

“Harvey, don't you think I should wear heels with the dress? If I don’t then I barely come up to your chest.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No heels.”

“Why are you so adamant that I shouldn’t wear heels tonight?” I didn’t mind taking opinions from him every once in a while, but he rarely tells me not to wear something. 

“You don’t need to make yourself taller, Yn,” he whispered, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’re too fucking pretty for anyones good, and I don’t need the people at this party thinking they have a chance.”

There has been something off about him for the last few days anyway. He’s been more pent up than usual. A lot more… touchy. Specifically picking me up and putting me wherever he wants. Setting me on the counter while he’s cooking, picking me up and throwing me on the bed before we go to sleep. Nothing overly sexual, but it’s clear there’s been something else going on.

“What’s been up with you lately?” I ask straight up. 

“Nothing, I just don’t want you to wear heels.”

“Why don’t you want me to wear heels?”

“Because, I asked you not to.”

I tilted my head to the side. Let's see if this theory is correct. “Is it because you want me to be smaller than you?”

“Yn, don’t.”

Ding ding ding!

A smirk brightens onto my face. I’ve suspected for a while now that Harvey has a thing for how much smaller I am than him. It’s clear he’s been trying to tell me– or rather cryptically showing me by physically demonstrating so.

The grin only gets wider.

“I asked you nicely once. Don’t.”

I rolled my eyes, “Fine, you win. Be mysterious and oddly demanding about what I wear.”

Before I could even reach for the pair of heels I was planning to wear, Harvey had gripped my arm, spun me around, and his hand was around my throat.

“You know no matter what you wear, you look stunning. And if you must know, I think everyone’s focus is going to be on you anyway tonight. And I don’t need everyone staring at what’s mine.”

Oh. OH. Oh my. 

I genuinely didn’t have a response other than a shiver rolling through my body. I knew he felt it because his grip tightened, both on my hip and around my neck.

“You know you can wear whatever you want, but just know, I’m willing to deal with the consequences of anyone who looks for too long.”

“Harvey, that’s a little extreme,” I chuckle, trying to make light of a clearly serious topic for him. “What about this particular event has got you so stressed out about everyone looking at me?”

“It’s our first formal, corporate event together,” Harvey explains. “No one has ever seen you all dressed up. And I’m not sure I want them to because… fuck, Yn you looks so good tonight.” The compliment makes my heart mushy. “Harvey, you know I’d never-”

“It’s not about that. Of course I know you won’t let anything happen. It’s everyone else’s grubby little hands I’m worried about. It’s a dog eat dog mentality in the world of law. Everyone at the event is not afraid to take what they want, go after it with everything they’ve got.”

“So it’s going to be a room full of men like you? And Jessica, of course. I’m excited to meet more women like Jessica. Oh! Will–”

Harvey cuts off my question with a deep laugh. He spins me around and places his hands on my hips while he looks down at me. “I literally just told you that every man here will want to have a piece of you, and you’re more worried about meeting more women like Jessica?”

“Yup,” I nod, pressing up on my toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Because I know you will keep me safe.”

I watched his eyes change. The smile faded and I felt his grip tighten. Again. “Fuck Yn you always know just what to say.”

I let my arms fall around his shoulders, our fronts cradled close. “And I say lets get the fuck out of here and go party.”

~~~~~~

Ray stops the car at the base of the staircase that led up to this gorgeous venue. We were in Washington D.C. for this conference. Lawyers and other legal personnel from all over the country were invited to network and do whatever other corporate bullshit they desire. There were guest speakers, of which Jessica was invited to give a talk on her journey of being a first in class Harvard graduate.

Bad. Ass. 

There had been a convention with a ton of vendors, a cooking class, and a shitload of corporate jargon. Being in a room, albeit a very big room, with hundreds of lawyers was starting to eat away at my brain cells. I’m glad it’s the last event of the week. 

The gala. 

The streets were lined with luxurious cars and limos, guests exiting and ascending the staircase in their finest glam. Everyone looks exquisite and propper. Who doesn’t love to play dress-up every now and then?

Per Harvey’s request, I did not wear heels. I settled for a pair of black sandals with a pearled band around the ankle. They did have a small heel. Frankly everything I wore that wasn’t flip-flops had a bit of a heel to it. But they weren’t the stiletto pumps I was going to dawn instead. 

I had bought those shoes to specifically go with this dress too. And this dress… It had one inch straps that formed a square neckline. The bodice had corset paneling that was lined with sheer lace. The skirt hugged my hips and then the slit opened it up. Gorgeous. And I had a coupon. Win win. 

With my hand wrapped around Harvey’s arm, we walked in together, greeting people left and right. I was finally beginning to understand just how powerful Harvey actually is in the world of law. Everyone knows he is. Sean Evans, a guest speaker from Seattle, even knew who he was. We were watching his speech on how to give a thorough deposition, and he called Harvey out by name from the crowd.

Wild shit going on here. I was just content being arm candy all night. 

“Ahh, there he is,” Jessica calls out from the cocktail bar. “Harvey, Yn, this is Michael Bunting, one of my old professors from Harvard.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Specter. I’ve heard many things about you, glad to finally be able to meet in person,” Michael smiled pleasantly, shaking Harvey’s hand firmly. “And you must be Mrs. Specter.”

“Oh, no no I’m-”

“Not yet,” Harvey cuts in. I give him a raised eyebrow and he just winks at me. 

Well… guess we’re gonna talk about that later. 

“Let me buy you each a drink,” Michael offers. 

“No drinks for us tonight, but thank you anyway. It’s kind to offer.”

Okay, clearly Harvey has some sort of ulterior motive for later tonight because when has he ever turned down a free drink? I sort of pay attention to whatever Harvard/lawyer lingo their yapping about, but it doesn’t strike any of my interests. I see Rachel and Mike across the room so I pat Harvey on the shoulder and ditch him for her.

Before I can get a few steps, he tugs me right into his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My knees go a little weak. “Just to chat with Rachel.”

“I’ll walk you over.”

“That’s a little much, Harvey.” I ‘adjust’ his tie to give my hands something to do. “Besides, you’re chatting with that professor. I have no fucking clue what you all are talking about, and I need Rachel’s opinion on a new curling iron I was gonna buy.”

“Trust me, the last thing I want to be doing is chatting with Michael Bunting. That guy doesn’t know his left shoe from his right shoe.”

Curious, I look down at his feet. I’ll be damned. His left shoe is on his right foot. Seriously. 

“Huh, a bit ironic isn’t it? An established Harvard law professor doesn’t know which shoe belongs on what foot.”

“See where I’m getting with this? Wherever you go, I go.”

With a playful smile, I ask, “What happens when I need to go to the bathroom?”

He bends his head down and whispers in my ear. “Trust me, you don’t want me to come in there with you, sweetheart.” It doesn’t take long before a pulse settles between my thighs. Harvey just chuckles, kissing the space behind my ear. “I bet you’d like me to follow you, huh? Lock the door. Bend you over the sink. One hand in your hair, pulling it back so you have to watch in the mirror. The other covering your mouth because you don’t know how to be quiet.”

Suddenly, my curling iron questions seem inferior to what is happening. 

I knew he was pent up, but this is… this is different. 

“So yes, I will be escorting you anywhere you wanna go tonight. Understand?”

All I could manage was a nod. Harvey has always been dominant, but this is uncharted territory for our relationship. And I’m kind of fucking loving it.

He pulls away from my space and grabs my hand, dragging me behind him. Curse him and those long legs. I have to skip a step and then another one so I can stay behind him. With his shoulders blocking the way, I can’t see where we’re going. To the bathroom? A coat closet? Maybe to-

“Rachel, Mike,” he greets. I have to fight to keep the frown at bay. 

“Yn!” Rachel says elatedly. “God, you look stunning. Where did you get that dress? And those sandals are adorable!”

“Have fun,” Harvey spoke softly, kissing the back of my hand before leaving me with Rachel. 

I tell her all about the dress and the sandals, and about Harvey not wanting me to wear heels. And the… context to it as well. She had a knowing smirk on her face. Mike left us to our devices after he heard her say ‘I think you’re going to need to take a sick day after what Harvey is going to do to you’.

Oh how I wish she’s right. 

“I mean, is it that bad?”

“Is what that bad?” She quirks her head to the side, sipping whatever pink, goddess looking cocktail she has. It literally has glitter in it.

“The height difference.”

Her eyes scan me up and down, “Well, it’s certainly more apparent without the heels, that’s for sure. But I mean it’s cute. He’s like a head and a half taller than you.”

“It’s like standing next to a giraffe. I know Harvey isn’t that tall, I think I’m just that short, you know? It’s annoying. I have to look so far up at him. And I had the cutests shoes I was gonna wear with this dress. ��Till mister ‘I can reach the top shelf everywhere’ told me not to.”

Rachel snorted, a drop or two or seven of her cocktail spewing out from her lips. “Yn, you look hot no matter what you wear. And if Donna was here to scold you, she’d say something along the lines of ‘there isn’t anything a bit of pouty lips and fuck me eyes can’t do’. So, since Donna isn’t here, go give Harvey some pouty lips and fuck me eyes.”

I just smile. I love Rachel so much. “I would go find him, but he might pull me into a backroom and literally beat my ass. He walked me over here just so he wouldn’t lose sight of me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Both of us laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but it is kinda true. I could easily disappear and no one would notice. Literally. I might be the smallest one here and it would be easy to stick to the wall and–

“Excuse me, ladies, but might one of you point me in the direction of the nearest balcony?”

I looked over my shoulder to a man who had a charming smile. His hair was combed back and he had on a tux. As if it would help, I stood on my toes and tried to look for one, but legit couldn’t see a thing. 

Rachel had a nasty look on her face. I looked between the two of them, waiting for… something to happen.

“Zane.”

“It’s Ross, actually. But I’m sure you already knew that, Tanner.”

“Uhh–” they clearly know each other.

“Who’s your friend?” This Tanner guy asks. He looks at me and takes a sip of his drink. 

“You don’t need to know, beat it.”

Oh, so this is obviously an ex or something. He looks a little older, but who am I to judge?

“I’m Travis Tanner,” he extends a hand. “An old friend of the frim.”

“Take your sleazy hands somewhere else, Tanner,” Rachel takes a step towards him, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.

“Relax, Ross,” he says. “I’m just trying to talk to her. I didn’t ask for her hand in holy matrimony. Go find that little associate of yours so I can buy her a drink.”

I felt a presence behind me, then an arm slip around my waist. The cologne I picked out earlier this morning wafted around me and I let myself lean into Harvey. 

“Say one more thing to her and I’ll put you on the floor, Tanner.”

I have never heard Harvey sound so threatening. 

I watched his brown eyes go from me, and then distinctly up to Harvey. “Of course.”

That grip around my hip tightened and I laid my palm over his hand to get him to relax. It did nothing. “Rachel, would you mind going to find Mike for me? I need to ask him a few questions on what the expected sentence time is for a man who is about to make another unrecognizable to his face ID.”

“Gladly,” she says, marching off to my left. 

“Darling, you’re seriously with a man who is verbally threatening to beat the shit out of another?”

“I’m about to get a whistle and referee the match because I think Harvey would like to go a few rounds with you,” I state my view on the matter. 

Travis grins at me. “I see why you like her. She’s feisty, can pack a punch in that small frame of hers.”

I can feel Harvey take a deep, steadying breath. “My love?”

“Hmm?” I look up at him.

“Get behind me.”

“Harvey–” He gently unwinds his arm around my waist and steps in front of me. The taught muscles in his shoulders pop out through his shirt. He ditched his jacket somewhere along the way.

I look over to my left just as Rachel finds Mike. She whispers something to him and I watch as his whole face changes. He whips his head around and we lock eyes. With his drink forgotten on the small bar-top table, he heads for our direction.

“Make a comment about my girl again, and I swear to God I will knock your teeth out.”

“Relax, Harvey. Why don’t you ask her what she would like to do. You seem to be awfully keen on making decisions for her,” Travis suggests. What a cocky son of a bitch. Does he actually think I’d give up Harvey for him? What a fucking joke. 

“I think you’re right,” Harvey agrees. He steps to the side just as Mike gets there. “What do you think, sweetheart? Would you like to sucker punch him or shall I?”

I can’t help the evil look that crosses my face. Instead of answering him, I simply grab a hold of his tie and yank his lips down to mine. He answers with a vicious bite, groaning into my mouth. His palm finds my neck, not being shy about the show. 

When I pull away, I’m left breathless and more than a little turned on. I know my lipstick is smudged to hell because I can see it on Harvey’s mouth. With a wicked smirk, I turn to Travis, who is red all over. “I think I’d just rather show him all he’ll never be able to touch.”

Harvey, again, plants himself behind me, but keeps his hand wrapped around my throat. “You heard her, Tanner. If I were you, I’d probably try, too. She is one of a kind. But she’s mine. She lives in my home. Eats the meals I cook for her. Wears my shirt after I’ve fucked her until she’s whimpering my name. She’ll have my ring on her finger one day. Have my last name. ‘Yn Specter’ sounds a whole lot better than ‘Yn Tanner’, don’t you think? So, while you still have your dignity–no matter how many times I have to take it from you in court–I suggest you get the fuck out of here. Now. And if I ever hear of you talking about her, I’ll break more than your teeth.”

Everyone had a look of shock across their face. Including me. 

Without a parting word, Tanner left. I felt Harvey let out a breath as he dropped his hand from my throat. 

I breathed a sigh of relief. Mostly for the fact that I didn’t have to call the police to report a homicide and then run off into the sunset to escape for being a possible accomplice. 

“Well,” Mike scratches the back of his head, clearing his throat. “That was certainly… something.”

“What the hell is going on over here?” Jessica steps into our circle. “And why the hell did I just see Travis Tanner practically sprinting towards the exit?”

“He tried to put the hots on Yn,” Rachel has the most sinister look on her face. I give her a look that screams ‘really?’. She just mouths ‘good dick tonight’ before winking at me. 

Is it bad I was already thinking the same thing?

“What the hell did you say to him?” Jessica asks Harvey.

“Trust me you do not wanna know,” Mike says before Harvey has the chance to elaborate. “I think I need to go bleach my ears.”

Rachel just laughs at him. “We’ll see you guys back at the office on Monday.”

As they leave, Jessica looks at the two of us expectantly. “Well?”

“Just be thankful that what came out of his mouth didn’t become reality. Otherwise there might be a lawsuit on your hands,” I explained. “I took care of it.”

“So what I’m hearing is I should hire you to defuse all of the fires Harvey tends to ignite?”

I giggle, stepping into his side. “I think that spark is the exact reason you hired him in the first place.”

Harvey glances down at me, a fond, proud look in his eyes. He kisses the top of my head. “Plus, if you hired her, I’m not sure my production value would go up.”

“Well, now that that image is burned into my head, I’m gonna go drink it away. Oh, and Harvey?”

“Yes?”

“The next time you get the chance to punch Travis Tanner in the face, don’t hesitate.”

I stared at Jessica in disbelief, jaw to the floor. “I knew I liked her.”

“Yn,” Harvey spins me around to face him. He takes my face in his hands, scanning my eyes back and forth. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, he was just–”

“Did he try to touch you? Did he actually touch you?” 

I remove his hands from my face, grasping them in my own. “No, Harvey. He didn’t. I’m not sure Rachel would’ve let him take another step anyway. Who is that guy? Why do we all collectively hate his guts?

“I’ll tell you on the way home.”

“We’re leaving?”

“Fuck yes,” he hooks two fingers in his tie and yanks it loose. “I can’t stand being here anymore and I can’t stand seeing men gawk at what’s mine either.”

“Harvey, I don’t think everyone is gawking at me.”

So fast the room blurs, he pins my back to his front and grips my chin. “Just look around, Yn. Notice how everyone is sneaking glances at you? Even if they're with a date, everyone has their eyes on you. They always have their eyes on you. Fuck Yn… you have no idea just how easily you could bring all of them to their knees.”

“The only man in this room I want to see on their knees is you while you're between mine.”

Hearing the tremor in his breath does more things to me than I’d care to admit. “You’re gonna regret saying that. Let's go.”

~~~~~

On the car ride back, Harvey explains everything that has to do with Travis Tanner. Safe to say I am now a certified hater. What a fucking cunt. An actual asshole. And now knowing that he’s crossed and fucked with so many people I love and care about? Next time I see him I’ll put my fist through his face. 

Bitch. 

Enough thinking about this dick-wad. I have Harvey literally dragging me down the hallway from the elevator to his door. He shoves the key in on the first try (thank god) and slams it closed. My skin is on fire with a need for his lips all over me. 

I don’t care where. 

I need him everywhere. 

He easily picks me up and bends me over the side of the couch. Harvey’s hands carefully remove my sandals, placing kisses up my calves as he goes. Those skilled fingers of his move my skirt out of the way, pushing it up over my ass. 

He pauses. And I grin. 

“You are such a little devil, aren’t you?” A single finger trails up the inside of my thigh. Then a hand cracks down on my ass. My very bare ass. Did I purposefully not wear anything underneath? Yes. I absolutely did. 

“I figured you wouldn’t want to waste time.”

“Please,” he scoffs, “getting the privilege of undressing you is no waste of time.”

My heart aches. How could I have gotten a man with the most perfect mix of worship and corruption?

Harvey stands and presses his need into me. “Feel that? God Yn, you have no fucking clue what you do to me, do you? It still amazes me every time, how you take me so well.”

“I just like being good for you,” I admit. He grinds his hips harder, pushing me deeper over the couch. 

“Yeah? Gonna be good and take it, huh?” I nod as best I can. “Yeah, I know you will. On your knees first, pretty girl.”

There isn’t anything I’m not willing to do for Harvey when he calls me his pretty girl. It’s just a fact. 

Heat courses through me as I sink to my knees, staring at him. All the way up… Fuck he is so much bigger than I am. This might be the first time I’m truly noticing it. 

One button at a time, he undoes his shirt. He throws it to the side, making a show of the belt next.

“Give me your hands.” I give my wrists to him, watching carefully as he folds the belt into a figure-eight and gives it a tug into place. “Now open up, tongue out.”

A rough hand on my chin makes me open my mouth wide, tongue rolling out. He rolls his against his cheek, then spits in my mouth. The whimper I let out is embarrassing. I can’t help the flush that burns up my neck and to my cheeks. 

“You’re fucking mine.”

I’m breathless as he shoves down his dress pants and boxers. I don’t even get a chance to admire him before Harvey shoves all the way down my throat. Tears sting my eyes when I gag, but the feeling of him against my tongue outweighs my need for air. 

“For every tear that rolls down your pretty little face, I’m gonna make you cum that many times.”

Oh dear God…

Okay, I have to focus. 

I am careful about my breath control. Between the taste and the sound of him it’s incredibly difficult to focus on anything other than the outrageous throbbing between my legs. 

“Fuck, just like that pretty girl. Keep taking it so well and I’ll give you anything you want.”

He knows how to make my brain melt. I relax, letting him all the way down. He stays there, pelvis to my nose for a few seconds. I know he likes watching the tears form in my eyes, so I look up at him. 

“Aww, I know it’s so big for you. But you’re doing such a good job, Yn. Just a little more then I’ll give you what you really want. F-Fuck that feels so good.”

I grin internally, knowing he loves it when I press my tongue up onto the underside of his dick. I do it a few more times while he thrusts in and out, more than enjoying hearing him fall apart. 

For a few minutes, he rocks in and out. An abundance of praise falling from his lips. Telling me how pretty I look, explaining how I’m his and only his to see like this. I’d have no one else ever again. He has ruined me for anyone else. 

Precisely how I want it. 

“You wanna cum, don’t you, pretty thing?” Harvey mocks, grabbing my hair at the root and nodding it for me. “Yeah I know you do, you love it when I make you cum. Show me those tears, baby. As many as you want. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

When the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, I choke. And he does it again, eyes trained on mine. I feel the tears swell up. Not too many, I’d like to be able to walk tomorrow. 

On purpose, he does it again. And again. And again until twin tears are rolling down my cheeks. One from each eye. 

“Two? Come on, I think you want more than that, don’t you?” I shake my head no, but he doesn’t let up. “If you don’t want more, then don’t let any others slip, sweetheart. I’m not done fucking your mouth yet.”

It’s relentless. His pace is nothing short of brutal, and it takes everything in me not to start sobbing. I tried to close my eyes, but he ripped his dick out of me so fast I almost fell over.

“Did I fucking tell you to close your eyes?”

“N-No Harvey,” I whisper. 

“Then keep them open.”

I have no choice but to obey. Somehow, I don’t let anymore breach the boundaries of my lashes. He didn’t wanna finish down my throat, so he pulled out and brought me to my feet. He thumbs my swollen lips, and I gently suck his finger. 

“You are gonna be the death of me, woman.”

“What a way to go,” I chide, earning myself a smack on the ass.

“Bed. Now.”

“Yes sir,” I respond, relishing the way his eyes darken. He removes the belt from my wrists, kissing the red marks. He picks me up, wraps my legs around his hips, and walks us to our room. 

The air in there is cold and my skin breaks into goosebumps. Or maybe it’s just the way he’s kissing me. Like he's worried I’m not real, some dream he’s going to wake up from. Desperate. Needy. Deprived. His hands grab around my waist and he throws me off of him. I land on the bed, about to prop myself up before he grabs my ankles and yanks me to the end of the bed. 

For a few moments, he just stares at me, guiding my legs open against the bed. His eyes ravaged me. An expression I’ve never quite seen before washes over him. His palms swallow my thighs. He pushes, pushes, pushes until they’re flat against the covers. Harvey goes to say something, but retracts it. 

“What, Harvey?”

He looks up at me like it’s the first time he’s seen me naked. And it is most certainly not the first time he’s seen me naked. 

“You’re just… fuck Yn you are so small compared to me.”

“I knew you had a thing for it,” I confirmed my hunch. 

“Seeing you tonight, without the heels on… it just did something to me. Something visceral. Something carnal. Knowing I can so easily do anything I want…”

Harvey knelt to the floor. The first brush of his tongue on my core made me sigh. He knows exactly what I like, what drives me crazy. And I have two orgasms coming my way tonight. No pun intended. 

I let my eyes close gently as he explores me. He reaches up and pinches a nipple between his fingers and it’s an effort to not writhe around. But his other palm is flat on my stomach, pinning me in place. I look down, seeing just how fucking big his hand is. Fucking hell–

“H-Harvey,” I gasp, feeling pressure build in my core, at the base of my spine. The tips of my fingers and toes begin to tingle. 

“Cum whenever you want, sweetheart.”

His permission is all I need. I let myself relax back, indulging in the freedom of his pleasure. I shiver when he sucks my clit hard, and I can see the grin on his face. Harvey spreads my legs far apart and keeps the exact pressure and motion of his tongue. I shake apart, endless praises falling from my lips. 

Harvey stops before it creeps into overstimulation and rises over me. I can smell myself on his lips when he kisses me, and the taste of my own release makes my brain fog with desire. 

I fist my hands in his hair, trailing kisses down his neck and chest. His physique drives me insane. Yes, he could absolutely do anything he wanted to me so easily. It fills me with the most delicious type of fear and desire. 

“Lay back down,” he commands. I comply without further instruction. I need to feel him. 

“Please, Harvey,” I beg. 

“Please what? Use your words, sweetheart. I can’t give you what you need if you don’t tell me. Or are you too fucked out? I still have to make you cum a second time, and you’re already begging for it? Pathetic, Yn. ”

A tremble rolls through me and I whimper. It’s the strain, the grit in his voice that makes it worse. “Need you to fuck me so good.”

“Yeah? You need me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours, baby?”

“Mhmm,” I nod, spreading my legs for emphasis. “Need it so bad. I’ve been so good for you tonight.”

“Yes you have. Wanna cum on my cock?”

“F-Fuck Harvey please,” I plead. 

I watch as he lines up with my pussy, and as he pushes in. He’s slow, draw it out so I feel every inch of him. Makes me as restless as possible. 

“Keep taking it, you can handle it. Stop whining, you slut. You love it. I know how much you crave me inside you. Just like that, sweetheart, just a little more.”

Harvey hooks his hands under my knees and pushes them flat against my sides, getting as deep as he can. He also pins my hands under them so I can’t move. With slow rolls of his hips into mine, I’m forced to take him all the way. I can feel him everywhere. It’s the most amazing type of overwhelming. The muscles in his abs and thighs ripple with every thrust and it drives me fucking insane. 

He laughs at me. Mocks me. 

“You are so cute like this. So adorable split open on my cock,” he coos, dragging his right hand all over my body. It cups my neck, then he plays with my chest. I lean into the touch, wondering how much more I can take before I shake apart. 

“Please make me cum, Harvey. Need it so bad,” I ask desperately. It’s a need I’ve never had before. “Fuck please please please.”

“You really wanna cum, don’t you, baby? You’ve been my good girl all night long. Doing exactly what I say. I think you deserve it.” The brush of his finger against my clit rips a scream from my throat. I was unprepared for just how much I was going to be able to feel it. It was so much. Borderline too much. Pleasure melted in and out of pain. But my body needed it. I wanted it so much. 

“Oh fuck,” I cried out, unable to sit still. I got a reprimanding smack to my thigh. 

“Hold still.”

My thighs went back to being flat, one of his arms pinning both of them. It was relentless. He was not going to stop until I came so hard the neighbors three floors below heard me scream his name. 

I was a mess when I came. My body bowed off the bed, physically unable to be stable. I wiggled around, fought against Harvey for even an inch of room to get away from his torture. 

“You’ll be done cumming when I say so. And I’m not fucking done with you.”

“Oh god Harvey please,” I begged. “F-Fuck fuck fuuuuck.”

I took a full breath only when he stopped rubbing my clit, just for a second while he pulled out and spat on my pussy. If I wasn’t numb from pleasure, I would’ve probably come a third time. He filled me up again, not being careful this time. 

I lay limp, content to let him use me in any way he wanted. He kept my legs up, fucking me hard. He didn’t care about whether or not I was feeling good. He knew he did his job. More than enough for me. Time to make him feel good. As best I could, I clenched around him. His palms splayed over my stomach, pressing firmly. 

His hips faltered. 

“God damn, Yn. I can fucking feel how big I am inside you. I bet you can feel it too. So fucking deep in there, and you’re being such a good girl. Taking it all and not complaining. My perfect little fuck toy, huh? Yeah you were made for me. Gonna fill you up so good.”

He flipped me over on my stomach, hiking up my hips so my ass sat in the cradle of his hips. He pinned my head down and fucked me harder than he ever has. His nails dug into my skin. I knew my ass was going to be bright red from the crack of his palm against my skin. 

“God you are so perfect, Yn. Such a good little slut. Gonna take it all? Not gonna spill a drop?” He yanked me up by my hair. I cried out a no, mind going a little stupid now. As if it wasn’t before. “Oh fuck–”

His hips stilled, and I could feel him throbbing inside me. He was buried all the way, and it felt too good. I tried to crawl away, but pulled me right back, fucking me on his cock. Nails raked down my back, and he chuckled when I shivered.

“Good girl, fucking such a good girl for me, Yn. You took me so well, sweetheart. You’re stretched so tight around me too, feel that?” The tip of Harvey’s finger trailed around my entrance and I hiccuped for a breath, a few stray tears spilling over. “Aww, you’re struggling so hard to keep it in. Come here.”

Harvey dragged me backwards so I sat in his lap. I let my head lull against his shoulder and went limp. 

“God I am still so hard…” Gently, Harvey fucked me on his cock. I moaned absently, too tired and spent to care. “You are so fucking amazing, Yn. My good girl. I’m the only who gets to fuck this pussy, you hear me? Your pussy is mine to fill. I’ll never get sick of watching you fall apart at my hands.”

“All yours,” I say, voice a little raw from screaming. 

“All mine.”

Vaguely I feel him slide me off his cock. I’m pretty sure he carried me to the bathroom because the next thing I know I’m in the tub with him gently cleaning me. His hands are soft, careful to avoid my most sensitive areas. It’s all gentle kisses and tender touches. Not only can he break me down, he always puts me back together. Brings me back to a safe, caring, loving reality. 

“Are you still awake, my love?” Harvey asks, running a brush through my wet hair. 

“Not for much longer if you keep massaging my head like that,” I smile, feeling all warm and fuzzy in his hands. 

“Do you need anything before we go to sleep?” Harvey asks. “It wasn’t too much for you, right?”

I shake my head, “No, of course not. Would’ve told you if it was. I liked it. A lot.”

“Good good.” I can feel his grin as he kisses both of my cheeks. “I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“If I had known sooner, I would’ve stopped wearing heels long ago,” I teased, finally opening up my eyes. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” he smiled, that big goofy grin I fell in love with. “Ready for bed?”

“Mhm,” I humm. “I could use some water. And maybe a snack.”

“Blueberries and a chocolate chip cookie?”

“God you know me so well,” I swoon. I kiss my lips together, a silent demand for him to meet me halfway. Without hesitation, he does, then helps me into bed before going to the kitchen. When he returns, Harvey climbs into bed with me. I just look at him for a moment, really taking him in. 

“I love you, Harvey.”

His smile lights up his eyes. “I love you so much more, Yn.”

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

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[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

What Happens in the Shadows

Title: What Happens in the Shadows

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Word Count: ~5,155

In which Mimzy has suspicions about Alastor’s feelings towards the reader, and plans to use them to her advantage.

A/N: Part 4 of my Never and Always series

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (attempted assault), angst, fluff

Mimzy was a lot of things. She was loud, she was brash, she was showy, and she was bold. She was also, however, good at picking up a scent. Whether it was a good deal to be made, money to be earned, or an advantage to be won, Mimzy was there.

This usually led to one of two things.

One, she would get too confident, pushing herself into a corner when the tables inevitably turned against her, leaving her scrambling to the closest ally she had as a defense.

The second option was much more rare, when she would take her time, allowing herself to gather enough facts to truly know a demon’s weaknesses before pouncing and closing a deal. Though it didn’t happen often, those that did manage to fall under Mimzy’s control were there for eternity, serving and slaving away as she ever so slowly gathered more power.

Mimzy was ever so hungry for power, after all, even if she was bad at obtaining it.

Which is why, when she witnessed the small spectacle at her club between her dear friend Alastor and a lowly sinner who had done nothing but dance with a woman, the gears in her head had started to turn.

She had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the Radio Demon would have her head if she so much as breathed a word of it. 

But he couldn’t stop her from thinking. He couldn’t stop her from watching. He couldn’t stop her from noticing. And he most definitely couldn’t stop her from coming.

~~~

“Ya think ya boyfriend would let mine go if you asked nicely?”

You flushed and looked away. “Alastor is not my boyfriend.”

Angel Dust winked over at you. “Uh-huh, sure. Whateva ya say, dollface.”

“He’s not,” you insisted. “We’re just friends.”

From his place behind the hotel bar, Husk put down the cup he was cleaning and looked up at you. “You and Angel are ‘just friends’. You and me? Just friends. You and Alastor?” He shook his head, picking up a new cup as he looked over at you with an expression of vague concern. “You’re more than that.”

“Ha!” Angel said as he pointed over at Husk in triumph.

You could feel embarrassment pooling into your stomach. “You’re both wrong. Al doesn’t-” you struggled to find the words. “Al doesn’t like anyone that way,” you said hesitantly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t like me that way. He just feels responsible for me now, that’s all.”

Husk huffed lightly, his eyes narrowing. “Alastor’s never felt responsible for anyone in his life. Not for the souls he’s collected, and definitely not for a sinner that doesn’t owe him any more than the dirt on her shoes.”

You looked away. “I do owe him,” you muttered. “He saved my life.”

Angel laughed forcefully. “That was his choice, toots. You don’t owe him nothin’, ya hear me?” He glanced over at you, his expression bordering on desperation as he searched your eyes. 

Maybe you didn’t agree, but it wouldn’t do anybody any good to have Angel and Husk worrying over you with each passing moment while you stubbornly believed that Alastor was a good man who had earned your trust long ago.

So instead, you nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Angel nodded firmly, but the concern in his eyes was still overwhelmingly present.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but you wished with all of your undead heart that the three most important people in your life would just get along. Not that it would ever happen while Alastor held Husk’s soul. 

You let out a long exhale before you clapped your hands together and smiled over at the hotel’s bartender. “Alright, enough of that.” 

Angel Dust’s expression relaxed as he turned to Husk as well. “She’s right. Pour me a drink.”

Husk returned your grin with one of his own, pouring the three of you a glass and sliding yours over.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, staring down at your drinks as you thought. You couldn’t say exactly what was going on in Husk and Angel’s heads, but you knew that you personally were thinking about a specific radio-themed Overlord. 

You hadn’t seen Alastor since the two of you had danced together in your bedroom a few days prior. It made sense that you hadn’t seen him the day after, of course. It was your day with Angel, and Alastor would love nothing less than to get involved in your makeover session.

The days after that though, were different. Normally, you’d at least catch a glimpse of the demon before he left the hotel to run his radio show or do whatever else Overlords did in their free time. If you weren’t able to catch him before he left, he would always drop by the hotel a little later on, even if just for a moment. But no matter what, he would always stop by your room at the end of the day, and the two of you would just talk.

But now, you hadn’t seen or heard from Alastor in days. You weren’t worried, per say. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. You did miss him, though, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to your next evening conversation. 

You drummed your hands lightly on the counter before shifting off of your barstool. It wasn’t likely that Alastor had finally stopped by, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Angel Dust quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. “Sure thing, toots. Just goin’ to bed, nothin’ to do with Smiles at all, right?”

You blushed and turned away, walking towards the staircase leading up to your room. “Goodnight.”

“Have fun,” Angel called up after you as you climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to your room as quickly as possible. 

You breathed a deep sigh of relief when you were able to reach your bedroom without any more comments from Angel. Though, that was probably courtesy of Husk. You made a mental note to thank him in the morning.

You closed your door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh. 

Something flitted across your vision. You jerked back.

The object popped up in front of you, causing you to bite back a scream before you recognized it as Alastor’s shadow. 

You huffed in annoyance and pushed away from your door, walking around the shadow and making your way to your bed before plopping yourself down. “That was absolutely unnecessary,” you said.

The shadow only smiled, quickly weaving its way over to sit beside you. It took your hand and raised it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

You blushed. “Fine, I forgive you,” you said with a giggle. 

The shadow’s smile broadened, using its other hand to gently put its claws to your throat as your laughter slowed.

“Not that I don’t love to see you,” you said as your eyes took a quick scan of your room. “But where’s Alastor?” The shadow made a small noise before reaching back and pulling a note off of your nightstand. It turned your hand over to place the folded piece of paper in your palm. 

You pulled your hand back and opened the note, your eyes skimming over it as you tried to keep your heart from sinking. 

It was a short note, and straight to the point. Alastor wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel that night due to some unfinished business with gaining new territory. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He wished you a good night.

You folded the note again and placed it in between yourself and the shadow. “It’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I understand.”

But the shadow’s smile had lessened significantly, and it stared at you almost expectantly.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “I know he’s busy. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

The shadow looked unconvinced. But, you noticed with disappointment, its eyes had started to flicker back to your window. 

“You need to go,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

The shadow looked back at you regretfully.

You reached out and placed your hands on its cheeks, lowering its head until your foreheads touched. “I’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “I promise.”

You released it and moved back.

The shadow caught your hands and pulled you back in, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before pressing them to its chest where its beating heart would have been. It gave you one last long look before it released you and melted back into the shadows, disappearing out your window.

You stared after it for a moment. Part of you wished that it had been Alastor who had come into your room and kissed your palms goodnight. The other, less selfish part of you knew that he had done the best that he could, and you appreciated it more than words could say.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” a voice said from the other side of your room.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you spun around, searching for its source.

Mimzy stepped forward from the shadows and gave you a sickening smile. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“What are you doing here?” you blurted without thinking. Your hands clutched your bed sheets as she approached you as casually as you would approach a friend in public. But you weren’t in public. And you most definitely weren’t friends.

“Oh, don’t give me that, doll,” Mimzy said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been dying to see you ever since Al brought you to my club.”

“Why?” you asked before pressing your lips together. It wouldn’t do you any good to antagonize her, you knew. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “What do you want from me?”

A small voice in the back of your head wondered how she had managed to slink into the shadows and avoid Alastor’s. Shadows were part of his domain, after all. Shouldn’t he have sensed her?

Mimzy’s smile changed into something more sinister. “I don’t want anything from you, doll. You’re a sweet little thing, but-” she looked you up and down with a note of disdain. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make me much revenue.”

You felt an anger flare up inside of you. You stood, crossing your arms and pasting what you hoped was a firm expression on your face. “If you don’t want anything from me, why go out of your way to sneak into my room?”

The club owner’s smile only grew. “Relax, sugar, I’m not here to trick you into services. I’m here to talk about ol’ Alastor.”

You tried to hide the surprise and fear that shot through your core. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mimzy said with nonchalance as she began to stroll through your bedroom, poking at your belongings. “We both know that he tends to keep to himself. Not many friends, but loads of enemies, am I right? But he’s really just a sweetheart, that’s why we’ve been friends for years now.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

“But,” Mimzy continued, her voice oddly sweet. “I noticed the other night that he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

You dropped your arms and shook your head. “That’s not true. Alastor and I-”

Mimzy waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I’m not one to stir up unnecessary drama. But Al’s my friend, so I’ve been a bit worried about him since then.” She turned to look at you, her eyes boring intently into yours. “He’s an Overlord, you know. Lots of enemies. If any of them find out about you, think about what it’ll do to his reputation. Or worse,” she said, her eyes widening dramatically as she placed her hands on her cheeks. “His power.”

You flinched. 

If you were being honest, the very same thought had crossed your mind more than once. Every time you went out with Alastor, even for a brief moment, you worried about being seen with him. You worried what it would do for his image. 

He had been quick to ease your concerns, reassuring you that nobody would dare cross him, even if he were to be seen with you. 

Even so, you had noticed that he was careful to never touch you, and rarely ever look at you, when the two of you were in public.

But, it seemed, despite all of his precautions, that your night together at Mimzy’s might have started something that you had feared from the very beginning.

You swallowed heavily, meeting Mimzy’s gaze as you repeated the same words that Alastor had said to you, time and time again. “Nobody would dare cross the Radio Demon.”

Mimzy nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Of course they wouldn’t, sugar. But they might mess with you. And if Al cares about you half as much as I think he does, well, that’ll be enough to ruin everything that he’s ever worked for.”

You bit your lip with worry. You were never quite as good as Alastor when it came to hiding your emotions. “So why did you come to me?”

The demoness shrugged. “I knew Al would never listen if I told him that you were bad for him.”

You winced.

“But,” she continued, “I thought maybe you could convince him.”

An alarm bell began to ring in the back of your mind. “Convince him of what?” you asked wearily.

“To keep his distance from you,” Mimzy said, a little too quickly for your liking. “The longer you stick around, the more he gets attached. And the more he gets attached, well…” she smiled, her teeth sharp and her eyes dark. “The more likely it is that our old friend gets tossed out of commission.”

Your gaze hardened. “You want me to stay away from Al? Fat chance.”

Mimzy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Not at all, sugar. I won’t be the one who ripped the two of you apart.” She began walking towards your bedroom door. “In fact, I think you two are adorable together. But, you see, it’s not just Alastor I’m looking out for. I’ve gotta take care of myself, too,” she said as she turned to face you.

You recoiled at the sight of her hardened eyes and cruel expression.

Your bedroom door opened, revealing two large demons that closed the door behind them, blocking your exit. You whirled around as another demon entered through your window, cutting off your only other means of escape.

“Mimzy-” you began.

“Don’t you worry, doll. They can’t exactly kill you again, can they?” she giggled. “They’ll just rough you up a little so that Alastor can finally come to his senses.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as panic began to set in.

“Let me explain it in simple terms for you, hun. I need you to help me break Alastor and get him away from you. Whether or not you help me willingly is completely up to you,” she said with a shrug.

“If Al does care about me,” you said desperately, “then it won’t do any good for you to hurt me. This is just going to make things worse for him. It’ll make him angry. He’ll lash out.”

Mimzy’s eerie grin only grew in size. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar. I can’t exactly gain more territory with the Radio Demon breathing down everyone’s neck. If I can get to him through you, he’ll be too upset to think straight.” She chuckled. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be the cause of his own downfall. With him out of the way, things can be the way they’re meant to be.”

The three demons surrounding you came closer.

“Mimzy,” you gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Alastor’s one of your oldest friends, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The club owner tilted her head in consideration. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception.” Her teeth flashed. “If you were willing to cut a deal with me.”

The demons grew closer still.

You could feel your resolve faltering. One measly deal to get out of this mess didn’t sound too bad. But as you looked back over at Mimzy, her eyes flashing and her smile turning into a snarl, the voice in your head that screamed out to protect Alastor came to the forefront of your mind with full force. Any deal that you made with Mimzy would only be used to hurt Alastor, and you would never forget how you had met him in the first place.

He had saved you once. You weren’t going to make him save you again.

You straightened and stared straight into Mimzy’s eyes. “I hope you get what’s coming to you,” you spat.

The sinner shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Have fun, fellas!”

You heard your door open and close as the demons drew nearer, blocking your view. 

A deep fear spread throughout your body, starting in your chest and working its way out. You could scream, but you were almost certain that Mimzy had found a way to mute the sounds from your room to the rest of the hotel. Nobody was coming to save you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself as a feeling of regret shot through your heart. You had never thanked Husk for having your back. You had never finished your makeover with Anthony. You had never told your friends how much they had helped you, and how much you appreciated them.

You had never told Alastor that you loved him.

You let out a sob. You cursed yourself for crying.

A hand grabbed your arm roughly, your eyes flying open in horror. But before the demon could do so much as pull you closer, a shadow swept through your window and across the room, knocking the other two demons away from you. The third demon tightened his grip on your arm, but it was already much too late.

The lights in your room began to flicker as a new shadow entered your room. It grew in size, becoming more and more solid until it finally took the shape of one of the most feared Overlords in Hell.

“I do believe,” Alastor said to the last standing demon as his antlers began to grow and his eyes began to flicker. “You have something that belongs to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear the demon’s response before you shut your eyes and turned away. You knew what came next, and though you had yet to argue with Alastor over his methods, you had no wish to see them for yourself.

The demon’s hand was ripped from your arm. Even without your sight, you were able to hear the screams of all three intruders as Alastor and his shadow punished them a mere feet away from you.

You sank down onto the ground, keeping your eyes closed as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in your arms. The tears that had begun to flow earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance, making their way down your cheeks as you sobbed violently.

You’re safe. You’re safe. Al is here now. You’re safe, you thought to yourself as you pulled your knees in tighter.

But another, horrible voice spoke up as you cried. He wasn’t able to see Mimzy, it said. Why wasn’t he able to see Mimzy? If this happens again, will he know? Will he miss it? 

Can he save me?

You gasped and whipped your head up when a gentle hand brushed your arm.

Alastor was staring right back at you, kneeling on your floor. His smile was tense and close-lipped, his expression concerned. “It’s only me, mon chere.”

You glanced behind him and noticed vaguely that Mimzy’s three demons were nowhere to be seen.

Your chest began to hitch as you tried to hold your tears back. “I’m so sorry, Al,” you said, hating the way your voice broke. “I should have been able to defend myself, I’m so sorry.” The tears began again, your body slumping forward as you began to weep. 

A pair of arms caught you and gathered your body closer until you were resting against a warm chest. 

Al’s shadow, you thought to yourself as you nuzzled closer.

One of its arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, while its other hand grasped one of yours and pressed it to its chest. It held you tightly, allowing you to cry and hiccup into its shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before your sobs became whimpers, and your whimpers became hiccups. You weren’t sure how long it held you before you were able to breathe properly.

The hand holding yours released you gently, coming up to wipe your tears away from your face.

You finally opened your swollen eyes, already regretting having been found in such a vulnerable state. 

You came face to face with Alastor’s shadow. Holding Alastor’s staff.

Standing across the room.

You gasped and pulled back violently, causing yourself to fall out of Alastor’s lap and onto your floor. 

The Overlord didn’t react, instead watching you with an expressionless smile on his face.

“I thought you were your shadow,” you stammered. “I didn’t realize-”

“I do hope you aren’t going to apologize for reacting to the given situation, my dear,” Alastor said as he tilted his head at you. He sounded, much to your surprise, mildly annoyed.

You froze. “Are you mad at me?”

A flash of irritation appeared in the Overlord’s eyes as his teeth gleamed. “We’ve now spent a notable amount of time together. I do hope you know me a bit better than that.” His voice held a note of challenge.

You sniffed and brought your knees to your chest once again without a response.

Alastor’s eyes softened and his smile eased at the sight of your trembling form. He sighed, the sound revealing an internal exhaustion that he would never admit to out loud. “I assure you, mon chere, my anger does not lie with you.”

You nodded, looking away. 

Silence. Deep silence.

But you couldn’t avoid the upcoming conversation forever.

“People have seen us together, Al,” you finally said, your throat raw. You looked up at him. “People who want to take your power.”

You didn’t miss the way the demon’s smile tensed. 

“I won’t be the reason that you lose everything you’ve built so far,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

Alastor stood abruptly, climbing gracefully to his feet before offering you one of his clawed hands and pulling you up beside him.

He released you and grasped your chin in between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him. 

“Any demon who hopes to steal my power is going to find themselves sorely disappointed, my dear, regardless of whether or not your presence is noticed.” His eyes hardened. “I am more than capable of holding on to what I’ve gained.”

“You couldn’t sense Mimzy,” you blurted, regretting the words as they left your lips, but unable to stop them. “You didn’t realize she was there until-” you swallowed. “What if it happens again, but this time they come for you?” You hated how desperate you sounded. “What if they hurt you, Al?”

The Overlord tilted his head. His smile twitched and his grip only strengthened as he looked down at you with something resembling regret. “I do admit that both myself and my shadow were a bit distracted during its visit, and I do apologize for not preventing this whole ordeal before it ever began.”

“That’s not what I meant-” you started weakly.

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Though I can promise you that such a thing will never happen again, mon chere. Not while I still stand.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you doubted his ability to take care of you, of course. But because you didn’t want this added responsibility to prevent him from taking care of himself.

“I do hope,” the demon continued, the static in his voice suddenly disappearing as he searched your gaze. “That you haven’t finally begun to doubt me.”

You shook your head as well as you were able to with his fingers still clutching your jaw. “No,” you whispered. “Never.”

And in a rare display of courage, you reached out, placing your hands gently on either side of the Radio Demon’s face as he released your jaw. You pulled him down until your foreheads met. “Never,” you repeated, your voice firm. “And if you really aren’t worried, and you want me to stay, then I will.” You pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Alastor’s hands reached up and settled on top of yours as his eyes bore into you. “That’s quite the commitment, my dear,” he said. There was something strange in his voice, something that sounded almost like uncertainty, almost like tension, almost like fear.

Your grip on his face tightened as you looked up at him. “I mean it, Al. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. If you’re sure.”

Now, there were a great many things that Alastor would never do. He’d never make a deal that he wasn’t in control of. He’d never submit to the Vees. He’d never tell Charlie the real reason that he was in her hotel.

He’d never tell you that he loved you.

But, he found as he stared into your eyes, he would absolutely give up everything that he’d ever built if it meant that he got to keep you.

“I don’t intend to lose anything, my dear. Least of all you.”

You blushed, maintaining eye contact as a gentle smile took the place of your previous frown.

Alastor leaned forward. You followed his lead, expecting to press your forehead to his, when he surprised you by placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You pulled back and smiled up at him before pulling him down to place your own kiss on his cheek.

Maybe Mimzy was right. Maybe you were something of a danger to the Radio Demon. But you’d be double-damned if you were going to give up on him so easily.

“Now,” Alastor said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released you and stepped back. His shadow surged forward, returning Alastor’s staff to its rightful owner and standing behind its master with a chilling grin. 

Alastor faced you, his smile gentle and his eyes hard as the static returned to his voice with full force. “Would you care to give me the name of the foolish soul who tried to harm what was mine?”

~~~

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in days.

Three new screams had joined the Radio Demon’s broadcast.

You’d been too afraid to leave the hotel for a few days.

Alastor had begun checking your room every night before leaving you alone.

Nobody else at the hotel knew what had happened to you. Not even Angel and Husk.

You gained back your courage in the following weeks with help from Alastor.

The two of you had grown closer than ever.

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in weeks.

~~~

You leaned back against your bed’s headboard, watching as Alastor had his shadow sweep through your room once again.

“I’m fine, Al,” you said, trying to contain your laughter. “Really. Nobody else is going to get in. There’s locks on the windows, and your room is close enough to be able to hear if something goes wrong.”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, though his eyes continued to roam around your room until he was satisfied.

He turned to you with a grin. “I’m only protecting what is mine, mon cœur.” He turned to your door, walking away from you with his shadow following close behind. “I do expect to see you bright and early in the morning for a short stroll.”

It was your turn to hum in agreement. 

You were more than thrilled with the offer, of course, but you felt a sense of unease that threatened to keep you up all night. You didn’t doubt Alastor’s abilities, of course, but you worried about what might happen to him if he was attacked while he was momentarily distracted with keeping you safe.

Alastor’s hand reached towards your doorknob. “I bid you a good night, my dear.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you blurted before you could lose your courage.

Alastor froze in place, his hand hovering. His shadow, however, was much more reactive. It leapt up in excitement and made its way back over to your bed, jumping in beside you and nuzzling its head against your cheek. 

You giggled and pulled away, allowing the shadow to slowly run a clawed hand from the base of your throat up to your chin before looking back over at its owner.

He had turned to look at you, a fond expression on his face as he watched the interaction. 

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said hurriedly as your smile began to slip. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively before he made his way over to you. “You couldn’t pressure me if you tried, my dear.”

Your heart soared as you moved over, giving him enough room to not have to even brush against you during the night.

The Overlord climbed into your bed easily, settling against your headboard before looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep.”

You smiled. “Not at all.” You began to shuffle around to get comfortable and to avoid looking into his eyes when you said, “I just feel safer when you’re here, that’s all.”

The last words of your sentence had hardly left your lips before Alastor’s shadow finally moved from its place on your other side. You laughed as it nudged you over before wrapping its arms around you and pulling your back to its chest, giving you a sense of security that you had never found with anyone else.

You closed your eyes and nuzzled in, allowing yourself to be swept away in a wave of comfort and exhaustion. “Goodnight, Al,” you murmured as you drifted away. “Thank you. For everything.”

You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

So you didn’t see his eyes soften. You didn’t see him reach out and grasp one of your hands in his own. You didn’t see him lean down and press a soft kiss to your temple. You didn’t hear his last words before he began to doze as well. 

“Thank you, mon cœur.”

Part 5 Here!

A/N 2: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! This is an ongoing series, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

I’d also like to continue writing for Hazbin Hotel, so send me requests and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any those as well :))

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o @looking1016 @saturn-alone @sirens-and-moonflowers

[justjudethoughts]

In Defense of Peter Pevensie. Originally written in response to accusations of Peter being "less complex" than other Narnia characters

If King Lune is the embodiment of masculinity as father, then Peter is the embodiment of masculinity brother. As High King, he becomes the brother of his people, but those seeds were sown in his own family. 

From the very beginning of the story Peter is the leader of the Pevensie children, a job he evidently takes very seriously. But, unlike a lot of eldest siblings, he doesn’t use his status and power as a means to swagger around and lord it over the others. Quite the opposite, actually. It is immediately clear that one of Peter’s main functions in the Pevensie family is cheerleader of his siblings. This is shown not only in his open praise of their talents (for example, he hypes up Susan’s talent of archery in PC and cheers on Lucy for having been right after none of them believed her), but also generally tries to keep them in high spirits. 

Take the context of LWW. The Pevensies are sent to the countryside because of air raids. They are going into a strange house with a strange man because the Germans are obliterating everything the children have ever known or called home. All of them are scared, Edmund’s bullying Lucy, and Lucy may or may not be going insane. But Peter can’t show any of them that fear, because he’s the oldest. They can’t know he’s scared, so he puts a bold face on it. One of the first things he says in LWW is “We’ve landed on our feet and no mistake” when he looks at the big house. He argues they are going to have a delightful summer after all. The next day, when the others are disheartened by the rain, he suggests they explore the house.

As the years go on, Peter earns the title “Magnificent.” In this, Peter truly embodies the  JPII quote, “the ultimate test of your greatness is the way you treat every human being.” He has a bleeding heart for the least of these, but in an unassuming, humble way. Peter is not a man of pomp and circumstance. He has a servant’s heart, perhaps most evident in PC. 

Upon returning to Narnia and learning of Caspian’s plight, he immediately makes it known that he has no intention of replacing Caspian. “I haven’t come to take your place, but to put you in it” is among the first things he says to his new friend. This isn’t about winning fame or glory or reliving the old days. This is about making right what was wrong. 

He is generous with the Narnia creatures, even when they are a bit silly. When trying to pick a Marshall, he suggests the Giant Wimbleweather. Caspian warns him that the giant isn’t very smart, to which Peter responds, “Of course not. But any giant looks impressive if only he will keep quiet. And it will cheer him up.” Part of his reasoning is simply the injured feelings of poor Wimbleweather who earlier entirely messed up an important battle.  The following conversation also takes place while they are searching for a Marshall. Reepicheep offers his assistance:

"I am afraid it would not do," said Peter very gravely. "Some humans are afraid of mice——"

"I had observed it, Sire," said Reepicheep.

"And it would not be quite fair to Miraz," Peter continued, "to have in sight anything that might abate the edge of his courage."

Instead of embarrass and insult Reepicheep by explaining that he is far too small and unassuming for such a job, he appeals rather to humans' fear of mice. Even while battle prepping, his is concerned about the hearts of his people. Bulgy Bear, too, he allows to be a Marshall, as it is the right of bears, no matter how silly they are. 

Peter understands that duty means doing what is right, regardless of how it makes you feel. His first battle happens because Susan and Lucy are being chased by the wolves. When he hears Susan’s horn, he runs to help her. The book says, “Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do.” His sisters needed him. And so he showed up. The same is true in PC, when he engages Miraz in single combat. Edmund asks if he can beat Miraz. Peter responds that he is fighting to find out. He goes in completely unsure that he is ever going to see his family again, but he does it anyway. Because Narnia needs him. Caspian needs him. His people need him. And his feelings aren’t the deciding factor. 

When he makes mistakes, he owns up to them. In LWW, when the children plead before Aslan on Edmund’s behalf, Peter blames himself for being too hard on Edmund. In PC, when they finally see Aslan, he apologizes for having led them wrong the whole time. He is always trying to do his very best and falling short like the rest of us. But he accepts his fault with humility, gets back up and tries again. 

By the Last Battle, we get to see Peter in his truest form. Even though he has been in England for years, when the seven friends see what looks like a ghost, he is the one who stands up and orders it to speak. Clad in his suspenders and button-down shirt, Peter is once more High King. “Shadow or spirit or whatever you are," he says, "If you are from Narnia, I charge you in the name of Aslan, speak to me. I am Peter the High King." And when night falls on Narnia for the last time it is Peter, once so scared to speak to Aslan (and even attempted to make Susan do it for him) that shuts the door. It is Peter that jests with Lucy when she weeps for Narnia, trying to lighten the mood. It is Peter that she turns to, time and time again, with her questions. It is Peter that Lucy, and all of the other friends of Narnia, trust to lead them. 

It is also Peter, who, “shortly and gravely” tells Tirian about the fall of Susan. Because he has to. Because here he is, once again, the eldest, the leader. Here he is once again faced with the unpleasant task of shouldering the burden for others. But he won’t make Edmund or Lucy explain (in fact, they don’t say anything about Susan). Peter takes that pain for them, forces himself to form words. Perhaps, deep down, he blames himself. He always was a bleeding heart. 

There are so many other things I didn’t include. I could talk about how Peter immediately offers to help Tumnus, simply because he did the decent thing and didn’t kidnap Lucy. Or his beautiful, redeemed relationship with Edmund. I could talk about all the times he is a rock for Susan, or his steady leadership despite his own hesitation. But really and truly, my point amounts to this: Peter is a brother. He is steady and humble and down to earth. He is brave. He is chivalrous and courteous and overflowing with affirmation for those he loves. He is a servant heart. 

When I think of Peter, I think of carpentry and the honesty of working with your hands. I think of campfires and a night sky full of stars, and the feeling of warm flannel. I think of laughter and 19th century books for boys, and tomes upon tomes of Latin. I think of warm drinks, hot cocoa or coffee or tea, and the safety of home. It is home I think of most of all. 

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 19 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i appreciate you 🩵 and thank you, readers, or your patience.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

Chapter 19: Of Christmas & Chokers

Over the next few days, the comfortability between you and Chan deepens. Whether you’re in the room or out being tourists, you remain almost glued together—holding hands, sitting on his lap, hugging each other, kissing. Your conversations flow naturally and without tension. In an alternate universe, perhaps this would have been an ideal trip for a couple in love. As delusional as you may have become in believing this could be a new normal, you keep one foot grounded in reality. Well, maybe not the whole foot…but at least a pinky toe.

Your days are packed with several activities such as a nighttime ATV ride, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. You both have the time of your life letting loose. Speeding, swerving, screaming at the rush of it all. You’ve never seen Chan smile so much. He is different when he’s free of the responsibility of being Chapter President…he’s carefree. You tell yourself regardless of how this ends, you’ll be glad you at least got to see him like this.

You go to a local amusement park where Chan is determined to make you face your fear of rollercoasters. However, after the second ride leaves you nearly in tears, Chan puts that mission to rest.

You venture back out on the water on a jet ski. Chan lets you do most of the driving that day, but you soon realize it’s a set up. When you’re far out enough from the beach, his hands on your hips find their way between your legs. He kisses your neck and tells you to turn off the jet ski. He fucks you with his fingers until you come, whispering in your ear how hard his cock is and what he plans to do to you later.

One of the days while you and Chan are out, the hotel staff add holiday decorations around the room, including a small, 4ft tree in the corner near the balcony windows. It makes you squeal with glee upon seeing it. You assume it’s all the hotel’s doing. Lee Know wouldn’t have done something so nice. Would Chan? He doesn’t claim it, if he had put them up to it. It doesn’t matter, though, it makes you happy to see and feel more of the holiday spirit.

When Christmas Eve comes around, there’s a break in the itinerary since a lot of places are closed for the holiday. You wind up sleeping in quite late for your standards and when you finally open your eyes, Chan is wide awake in the bed next to you. He’s sitting up, back against the pillows, laptop in front of him and headphones covering his ears. He’s consumed by whatever he’s doing, but as soon as you turn to face him, his eyes shift from the screen to you.

“She has risen,” he jokes, moving one headphone away from his ear.

“I needed that,” you reply, stretching beneath the blankets. “How long have you been up?”

“A while,” he says with a shrug. “Just working on our chapter project.”

You smile inwardly. Typically, his response would have finished with ‘a while’, you would have had to dig and pry for any further information. He, for now at least, is freely providing you with further details.

“Chapter project?” you ask. You recall hearing him discuss it months ago, but never knew what it was.

“Just something we have to put together to memorialize the year,” he tells you. He turns the laptop so you can see the screen. You recognize the sight of a music program with tracks and layers but have no further understanding of it.

“Putting your minor to use?”

“Kind of. It doubles as my senior project for the minor, so that’s a plus.” He starts moving things around on the screen, opening a folder aptly titled ‘Chapter Project’. He clicks on a few files, opening them to show you as he speaks. “I want to incorporate songs I’ve worked on with different things from the other members—Hyunjin’s artwork for example.”

You know Chan is a good student. All of the members are, really, but you know some of them drag their feet and procrastinate until the last minute. You’ve caught Hyunjin, Changbin and Jeongin rushing to meet midnight deadlines more than once.

“Can I hear something?”

You sit up on the bed, back against the pillows like Chan. The blanket falls from your chest, exposing your breasts.

“Only if you put those things away,” he says, looking pointedly at your breasts, then up to your eyes, then back down again.

“What things?” you ask innocently, leaning back against the headboard and pushing your chest out even more.

Seizing the opportunity, Chan leans over and captures your nipple in his mouth. You let out a surprised scream as he bites down around it. You push him away, swatting his arm. You promptly pull the blanket up to cover them before holding out your hand for his headphones.

He hands them over with a smile, and you put them on. He shuffles a few things around on the screen before a video starts. You assume the graphics are of Felix’s design as it feels like something you’d see in a video game. A song accompanies the images and you’re surprised to hear Chan’s voice over a jovial sounding beat, followed by Seungmin, then Changbin. You didn’t know any of them could sing.

The video is only about a minute long but you feel dumbfounded when it’s over. You remove the headphones and pass them back to Chan.

“I like it,” you say with a smile. “It’s…surprisingly good.”

“You underestimating me?” he asks teasingly.   

“My mistake,” you say sarcastically, placing a hand over your heart. “Is that a cover?”

“No, it’s an original song,” he tells you, turning the laptop back so it’s facing him. “Just waiting on Felix to finish rendering the rest of the graphics, then that one will be done.”

“You’re doing more?”

“A few more. It’ll be a mini-album.”

“Do I get a copy?”

“Hmmm…maybe. If you ask nicely.”

“Oh, never mind then,” you say nonchalantly.

Chan turns to look at you, biting his tongue between his teeth to keep from smiling as he nods.

“I’ll remember that.”

You slide down against the pillows, then turn on your side so you’re still facing him.

“I had no idea you guys could sing,” you tell him.

“Participating in choir was mandatory at our boarding school,” he shrugs. “We can hold a note.”

Chan is full of so many surprises. Most of them pleasant, these days. You want to uncover all there is to know about him, but you know you’ll never be given the time.

You cuddle up to him as he puts his headphones back on. You just lay there and watch him work, expertly navigating around the screen as he continues composing the song. You want to ask why he’s not majoring in music. You already know the answer to that, though. The choices for his future aren’t exactly his to make. His parents decided he would major in business, and sadly that’s all there is to it.

Your heart aches for him—you can see the work he put in to make something creative, the passion he has for it. And he can’t even pursue it.

It’s now 11:00pm and you and Chan have just returned to the hotel room. After dinner you both wanted to get out of the room for a bit and ended up at one of the only places open—the Magic City casino. The hours spent there are a bit of a blur. It was news to you that anyone playing at the tables or slot machines could get free drinks, so you both decided to indulge. Being so far from the hotel, though, Chan didn’t let either of you get too drunk.

As soon as you’re back to the room, Chan excuses himself to make a phone call and disappears out onto the balcony. You change into your pajamas—a pair of thin, loose fitting shorts and matching top—and return to the living room. You turn on the TV, stopping on the first channel you see playing a Christmas themed movie to entertain you while you wait for him to return. From all the food and drinks, you start to doze off until the sound of the heavy balcony door opening stirs you.

“Everything okay?” you ask when he comes back in.

“Mm,” is his reply, with a small nod of his head. “It’s Christmas day back home. I’m gonna get changed.”

You can only nod as well. His tone sounds a bit sad so you’re not sure what to say. Maybe he’s missing spending the holiday with his little brother and sister. And that makes you sad. It’s your fault he’s not with them.

Chan comes back into the living room clad in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He sits down next to you and throws his arm around the back of the couch behind you.

All of your life you had never considered yourself to have a one-track mind but now? With Chan? Seeing him in those grey sweatpants puts one thing at the forefront of your mind, drowsiness and sadness pushed aside. You’ve got to get a hold of yourself.

“Should I open the bottle of wine the hotel left?” you suggest.

“Sure,” is his simple reply.

You stand and retrieve the bottle from the kitchen, along with two wine glasses. You pop the cork and fill both glasses before returning to Chan, handing him one.

“You sure everything’s alright? You seem a bit down…”

You don’t want the tension in the air to linger through the night and this trip has built your courage to address him this way.

“I’ll be fine,” he tells you with a soft smile. He clinks his glass against yours before downing his in one go. “You trying to stay up ‘til midnight for your present?”

You take a sip from your wine glass; happy he’s taking the initiative to change the subject to something lighter.

“I don’t see any presents under that tree,” you say, looking in the corner where the small tree is lit up.

“I haven’t put them there yet.”

“Them?”

As in multiple.

He nods.

“Oh no,” you say, a look of panic taking over your features.

You weren’t sure the two of you would even be exchanging gifts. Not only that, but you don’t feel like you truly know enough about him to get a well thought out present. And you love giving gifts. Hyunjin has a never-ending need for art supplies, so you immediately knew what to get him. You were completely puzzled when it came to Chan.

It was only after the staff added the tree that you thought it’d be nice for him to wake up with something under the tree. Being on vacation, though, you were in a bit of a predicament. All you really had convenient access to was the gift shop.

He must sense your apprehension.

“It’s okay if you didn’t get me anything,” he tries to appease you.

When the panicked look on your face turns into a frown, he takes the wine glass from your hand and places it next to his on the side table. He then pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him and cups your face with both hands, stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“It’s fine,” he says in a sharper tone that makes you nod in acceptance.

“I would have never imagined I’d be spending Christmas Eve with you, let alone exchanging gifts,” you tell him, leaning your forehead against his. “From English classmates to this? Never in my wildest dreams.”

“That wasn’t our first class together,” he says matter-of-factly. He leans back against the couch and takes both of your hands in his, lacing his fingers through.

You furrow your brow at his statement. You wrack your brain for any other class you may have had with him but can’t come up with any.

“What? When?”

“Freshman year…Anthropology 101. In the lecture hall.”

You think back to freshman year and the classes you took. You did, in fact, take an Anthropology course. In a large lecture hall with something close to 100 other students, including your ex.

“I always sat in the back—you were always somewhere up front. Being a nerd, I guess,” he teases. You try to pull your intertwined hands from his to hit him, but he holds onto them tighter, bringing them to his chest. “You look cute when you’re focused, you know that?”

Your brain feels like mush. None of this is ringing a bell.

“Do you remember the presentation you did for extra credit? A family heirloom?”

Now that, you do remember.

“You were so nervous, but I swear it made you look even cuter. The way you talked about the heirloom…” he continues. “…your grandmother’s bracelet, I think it was…”

“Yes,” you say softly.

The bracelet your grandmother gave your mother, who then passed it on to you, and one day you’ll give it to your own child. It feels odd to hear Chan speak about it. Something so deeply personal to you. Granted, you did tell an entire class of strangers about it. But the fact that he remembers it, remembers you?

The fact that he’s known of you this long? Why hadn’t he mentioned it before?

“Why don’t I remember you being in that class?” you ask, struggling to process this new shared history and the words he’s just spilled about you simultaneously.

“It was freshman year…plenty of stuff going on and…your ex,” he shrugs.

He hits the nail on the head with that comment. That class is where you met him.

“You know, the first few weeks of the SKZ house before we bring anyone in?” Chan asks rhetorically, “I thought maybe I’d work up the nerve to talk to you while I could…but then he was there. Always sitting next to you. Even with the class we had this semester. I thought again, maybe it was a sign, you know? But he was waiting for you outside the door after the first class ended.”

You feel a pang of sadness, hearing that. Maybe in a different timeline if he had come talk to you, things would be different. You imagine getting to know a bright-eyed freshman Chan, eager and optimistic to take on the world. Maybe he would have opted out of having an assignee if it were possible, maybe he really could have been yours.

“I remember one of the last lectures you came in with your eyes all puffy,” he continues, disrupting that dangerous train of thought, “like you’d been crying. You didn’t sit anywhere near him that day. I always wondered what happened.”

You open your mouth to speak but close it immediately. What can you say to that? To any of this? Had he really paid such close attention to you? All this time?

“He used to treat you like shit, you know.”

At that remark, you set your lips in a firm line. You untangle your hands from his and cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s true, but hearing Chan say it hits too close to home.

“And you treated me any better?”

Chan takes in your closed off body language and a silence falls over you. Neither of you want this bubble you’re in to burst yet. Perhaps he’s regretting saying any of this at all.

“The day you showed up at our house…” he speaks up again after a while, “I felt sick to my stomach, y/n. Like the universe was playing some sick fucking joke on me.”

He places his hands on your thighs, squeezing and rubbing them.

“When it came time to choose assignees, I couldn’t let you end up with anyone else. I’ve never pulled rank like that before as the chapter president, but with you I had to…and I knew Hyunjin would be good for you, too.”

You shake your head in disbelief.

The day in the hot tub creeps back into your mind. When you told Chan that your time with Hyunjin had been great and he replied with ‘I know. I’m glad’. You didn’t fully understand it then. Now, it’s as if Chan knew the emotional rollercoaster he was going to send you on and wanted to make sure you had a harness. Hyunjin.

You let out a low breath and place your hands on top of your head, locking your fingers together. This is a lot to take in.

“So, your plan was to selfishly claim me and treat me like shit?” You ask after a moment.

“I wouldn’t call it a plan,” he says in a sad tone. “I knew that I was attracted to you and after our first few nights together I had to do something to keep boundaries in place.”

The conversation you shared on the beach clarified his drive for the spankings and edging. You understand his reasonings. You know that his sexual desires and fantasies with you are kept separate from his emotional connection to you. However, it’s confusing and frustrating to know he clearly felt something for you prior to you joining the SKZ House and still kept that brick wall firmly in place between you.  

“So, you wanted to fuck me and still treat me like shit then?” You can’t help the bitter edge to your tone.

“I didn’t wanna get to close—clearly I’ve failed,” he admits. “It’s just always been in the back of my mind how long I’ve wanted you and now that I get to have you, there’s an expiration date.”

“What happens when we get back? You start treating me like that again?”

He averts his gaze from you.

“I don’t know how to—” he stops abruptly and shakes his head.

“Chan,” you say softly, reaching out to turn his head back to face you. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to be with you and be genuinely happy in this fucked up situation, y/n. I’m not gonna want it to end…but it has to.”

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest. As much as it hurts to admit, he’s right. You don’t like the thought of having to leave either of them. With Hyunjin, though, you know he will move on with ease which makes losing him slightly easier. Chan, on the other hand, after all the ground you’ve broken, the progress you’ve made…having to throw it all away will be hard. On both of you, you’re coming to realize.

But how else could you have gotten to know him? If you hadn’t shown up at the SKZ house, Chan would have once again had another assignee and not been able to interact with you anyways. Perhaps you both should at least be thankful for the time you’ve been given and enjoy it while you can.

“You can’t go back to being an asshole, Chan,” you tell him softly.

“I know.”

He grabs onto your hips and pulls you closer to him until you’re forced to lay against him. You rest your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You stay like that for a while, the movie playing in the background but neither of you watching it. You want to remember this moment, how it feels to physically and mentally be this close to him.

An alarm suddenly goes off on his phone and Chan quickly silences it. He cups one hand around the back of your neck to guide your head up. His brown eyes bore into yours, still lingering in this shared moment. You hold his face in your hands, staring right back, not backing down. It’s not an intense stare…more like one of silent pleading and unspoken questions. You bring your face to his and place a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Wait here,” he says, kissing you once more before sliding you off his lap.

He disappears into the bedroom and when he comes back, heads straight for the Christmas tree. He places two wrapped boxes under it and you mentally kick yourself again. You hadn’t even wrapped his. Even so, you can’t hide the smile that takes over your face at the sight and the thought he must have put into this.

“Should I get yours?”

“So you did get me something?” he asks with a smirk.

“I did…but seeing that,” you say, pointing to the neatly wrapped presents under the tree, “I don’t even want to give it to you anymore.”

“It’s fine,” he says again. “I’ll wait until tomorrow. Come pick one.”

You stand from the couch and walk over to him and the tree. Both boxes are square in shape, one larger than the other. You deliberate for a moment before reaching for the larger one. You sit on the floor and pull it towards you, surprised by its weight. You look up at Chan and when he doesn’t move to join you, you pull on his hand until he sits.

“Did you wrap this yourself?”

“I asked the housekeeper to help me out with it,” he tells you.

“Resourceful.”

He taps his temple with his pointer finger.

You start ripping away the wrapping paper to reveal a white box beneath. You can’t hold back your smile as you pull the top part of the box off. You set it aside and pull out the tissue paper. When your eyes land on what’s inside, your mouth drops.

A folded, white lab coat with your last name embroidered across the breast area sits on top. You reach out and run a finger across the stitching. It feels surreal to see.

“I figured you’d need it when you go off to vet school.”

You look up at him, still smiling. You will definitely need it. Along with several other items you were already wondering how you would afford, without having to ask your parents for even more money. That’s part of the reason you ultimately decided to join the SKZ house and save the money they were sending you. At least the majority of it would go towards the next steps in your education.

“Thank you, Chan.”

It’s a thoughtful gift. And you feel the guilt of your shitty gift building.

“There’s more…” he nods towards the box.

And the guilt continues.

You lift the lab coat out of the box and gently set it outside the box. The next item is a set of black scrubs, your name embroidered on the shirt as well. You left them out of the box and sit them on top of the lab coat. When your eyes land on the item at the bottom of the box, your jaw drops again.

You reach inside the box and retrieve the stethoscope. This was one of the pricier items you hadn’t been looking forward to purchasing. You bring it closer to inspect, smiling widely. You immediately recognize it as one of the more expensive brands. It, too, is engraved with your name around it.

You feel your eyes begin to prickle and you blink furiously, not wanting to cry, but you can’t help it. It’s a thoughtful gift. One that you’ll get to take with you when the year is over. A reminder of Chan you get to keep with you forever.

You slowly raise your eyes to look at him, shaking your head softly.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, “Is it not the right kind? I wasn’t really sure…”

“It is—it is,” you say, your voice cracking. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and clear your throat. “It’s perfect. It’s all perfect, Chan. Thank you.”

“Wanna test it out?”

Your smile returns at that and you nod, placing the ear tubes in your ears and sliding closer to him. He pulls you onto his lap once again, putting your legs on either side of him, your butt resting on his folded legs.

You grab the bell end of the stethoscope with one hand and pull at the hem of his t-shirt with the other, lifting it up. You then place the diaphragm end to his chest and he instantly moves back, grabbing your wrist.

“That’s cold doc,” he says, voice muffled and rumbling through the ear piece.

“Sorry, I’m a rookie,” you reply sheepishly.

You bring the diaphragm end to your mouth and breathe on it to warm it up before placing it back over his heart. The digital reader immediately lights up, reading his heart rate. But you’re not focused on it. You’re looking directly into his eyes, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart. It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“Sounding healthy?” he asks.

You nod.

“Well, we should make sure the reading is accurate, too.”

He cups the back of your neck and pulls your face closer, bringing your lips to his. With his other hand, he holds your wrist and the stethoscope in place. You can hear his heartbeat quicken as you kiss. You grind your hips against his, causing the steady thumping in your ear to beat faster. You want to get lost in the sound of his body’s reaction to you.

He uses his hand on your back to assist your grinding, making sure you can also feel his body’s reaction to you.  

Not wanting to jeopardize the safety of your present, you break the kiss and pull the ear tubes out. His hand drops from your wrist allowing you to turn and set the stethoscope neatly on top of the pile of the other presents behind you.

Before you can even turn back around, Chan is changing your position. He holds onto your back tightly as he lowers you down to the floor.

“I won’t write a negative review just yet—but you’ve got some learning to do, doc.”

You like to hear him call you that.

“I’m a fast learner,” you reply.

“Oh, I know,” he says with a wink.

He remains sitting in front of you, his legs still crossed, while you’re lying down. Your legs are draped over his thighs, feet on the ground on either side of him. He pushes your shirt up to expose your stomach and lightly runs his fingers in a zig-zag pattern all the way down until his hand is between your legs. The thin, pajama shorts you’re wearing are a loose fit and don’t do much to keep him out. Not that you’d want that.

He easily moves the fabric aside and his eyes snap to yours when he realizes you aren’t wearing any underwear.

“I only packed so many for the trip,” you laugh and shrug. “I can’t keep messing them up with you.”

He smirks and nods his agreement.

He slides his fingers up and down your slit, teasing your pussy until his fingers become saturated with your slick. He slowly inserts his ring and middle finger inside of you as he places his other palm on your lower stomach. You rock your hips against him in response. He curls his fingers, pressing against your inner walls each time he withdraws his hand, all the while applying steady pressure with his palm.

You can really feel his fingers rubbing against you, and you know he can too. His eyes are on his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, then move up to your writhing body, then your face. A soft smile plays out on his lips as he watches your reaction. He adds his thumb on your clit into the mix and you let out a moan.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes.

You bite your lip between your teeth, arching your back. You’re too caught up in the sensations to formulate a response.

“You wanna come on my fingers?” he asks, slowing them down. “Or on my cock?”

You moan again.

“Both.”

“Greedy,” he says with a soft chuckle, still moving his fingers in and out at an achingly slow pace.

“Mmmm, yes. For you.”

Any part of him you can have.

He moves his fingers quicker, thumb still circling your clit. You sit up a little, placing your hands behind you to hold you up as you move your hips against his fingers.

He arches an eyebrow at this, a devilish smirk on his lips. He withdraws his fingers, and you protest with a whine and pout. He brings his fingers, coated in your slick, to your face and spreads it around your pouted lips. He watches closely as you lick your lips, then brings his hand to his mouth, sucking off the rest for himself.

The sight of him enjoying your taste always sends you off the rails. You grab a handful of his shirt and pull him to you until his lips are on yours. He seems a little startled, but he allows it. You kiss him, taste him, taste you.

Before you can have too much, he breaks the kiss but keeps his face against yours.

“I want you to open your other present now,” he says, lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

“Not in the morning?” you ask, catching your breath.

“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “I wanna see it on you now.”

He stretches to the side to retrieve the present and you wrap your arms around his waist to keep from falling back. He grabs it and returns to his upright position before handing it to you.

You take the present and rip the wrapping paper, much less delicately than you did the first. What could this be? He wants to see it on you? You’re excited to find out. You toss all bits of the paper behind you without a care until just the box is left. You lift the lid from the box and inside is what appears to be…a collar?

You look up to Chan with an arched brow and he just smiles widely, baring all his pearly white teeth. The part of the collar that rests on the back of the neck is black, with a belt buckle-like fastener. On the front is a thick, silver linked chain (much like the one he wears on his wrist) with a silver heart hanging from it. The heart itself has several tiny jewels spread evenly around it. The way they glitter in the light, you hope its cubic zirconia…but knowing how deep Chan’s pockets go, they might just be diamonds. You bring the heart closer for inspection and see the words 'Good Girl' engraved on it.

You’re not sure what to make of it. Both the cost, the phrase and the gift itself. He wants you to wear this? Like a dog?

He takes it out of the box and drapes it around your neck, moving your hair out of the way so he can fasten it in the back. You look up at him as he hooks a finger through the heart and tugs on it. Pulling, pulling, restricting until it’s taught against your throat.

Oh. Oh.  

“This okay?” he asks.

You appreciate that he’s asking. You’re convinced you’d let him walk you through the street with it, so long as he asks first.

You close the distance between you, placing your lips on his to convey your consent. He tugs a little tighter on the collar as you kiss before releasing it fully.

In the next moment, your hands are on his shoulders, pushing on them until his back is now against the floor. He doesn’t resist at all.

You reposition yourself comfortably on top of him. You put your hands on his biceps, squeezing them tightly before sliding up his arms to his hands. You move them up above his head then lace your fingers between his, holding them in place as you kiss him. You grind your hips into his and he lets out a moan. You feel his hardening cock pressed between your legs. You grind against it more, sliding your clit along his length. Your kisses become quicker, sloppier, as you keep grinding on him.

He tries to move his hands, but you squeeze them tighter. He lets out a grunt and uses more force to break free—reminding you that he was allowing you to keep them there. He sits up and wraps one arm around you, pulling you close as he starts to stand up. You wrap your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He walks you both back over to the couch.

He unhooks your legs and lowers you so you’re standing in front of him. He leans down and claims your lips again, but you want him undressed. You reach for the hem of his shirt and start pulling it up. You break the kiss to get it completely off his head and before he can kiss you again, you push him onto the couch.

You lift your shirt above your head and as you’re reaching back to unhook your bra, you give a pointed look to his sweatpants. He lifts his hips from the couch and pushes them down.

“Does it look good?” you ask, running your fingers along the collar as you kneel in front of him.

He licks his lips in anticipation, “Better than I imagined.”

You reach for his hand and bring it to the collar. He tugs on the heart again, tightening it around your neck. He wraps his other hand around the base of his cock and pulls you towards it. You drop your jaw and take him in your mouth.

He sucks in a breath, watching you lower your mouth on him. He releases the collar and leans back into the couch. You replace your hand with his at the base, stroking his dick as you bob your head up and down.

You alternate between stroking, sucking, taking it out and smacking it against your lips. He moans and groans, body jerking in response to your actions. You love seeing him like this.

You take him out of you mouth fully and continue stroking him, moving your mouth instead to take each of his balls in your mouth, in turn. You glance up to his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he lets out a deep breath.

“So,” you say, returning your attention to his cock, licking slowly around the tip. “You wanna come in my mouth or in my pussy?”

He looks down at you, only able to smile and shake his head at your use of his same words against him. He leans forward and grabs the heart of the collar once more, using it to pull you to him.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he asks, kissing along your lips.

You giggle and nod playfully in response.

He leans back, pulling on the collar to bring you with him until you’re forced to stand again. His other hand slips between your legs and he rubs your pussy with his fingers.

“I wanna fill you up here.”

You moan against his lips, and he releases the collar. He lightly pushes against your chest, so you stand fully then motions to your shorts. You turn around, bend over and pull them down. You move to straighten yourself, but he lurches forward to stop you.

He puts a hand on your back to keep you bent over. In the next instant you feel his other hand collide with your ass and you let out a surprised yelp. He rubs the wounded area on the right and brings his mouth to the left cheek, placing a wet kiss to it. You feel his teeth dig into your skin, causing you to gasp. He smacks the right cheek again.

He shifts his mouth to the surely reddening cheek, placing another wet kiss there. It soothes the stinging a bit. He slaps the left check, his palm gripping your ass when it lands. He then immediately slides his fingers between your legs, slipping along your wet slit until they find your opening. He pushes his fingers inside, you don’t even know how many, but it makes you feel full.

“Mmmm,” you moan, pushing back against him.

“You’re dripping for me,” he says, lacing kisses along each cheek.

“Always,” you reply. And it’s the truth.

He takes his fingers out of you and places both hands on your waist, guiding you down to him. He positions himself at your opening and you roll your head back as he slowly lowers you on his cock. You remain still when he’s fully inserted, just basking in the feel of him inside you.

You make small movements with your hips first, moving forwards and backwards.

“Fuck,” he exhales, gripping your hips tighter.

You like the way he sounds when you’re pleasing him.

You plant your feet firmly on the ground, your hands on his knees. You start to move up and down, bouncing on him and drawing more delicious groans from him.

He uses his hands on your waist to lift you higher and bring you down even harder. You cup your breasts, pinching your nipples to add to the pleasure you’re feeling. You don’t know if you’ll ever get tired of his cock filling you up. Though, you won’t exactly have the opportunity to find out.

You try to push the thought aside, but you can feel it distracting you.

Chan notices as your rhythm becomes out of sync with his. He pulls you all the way down against him, then slides his hand up your stomach, between your breasts, all the way to your neck. He covers the collar with his hand and pulls you back against his chest. You keep circling your hips on him, not wanting to lose the momentum.

“You okay?” he asks softly in your ear.

“Yeah,” you reply, but it’s a lie. “I want to see you.”

He repositions both of you so you’re lying fully on the couch and he’s on top of you. He guides one of your knees up and hooks your leg over his shoulder as he enters you again.

“Like this?”

You offer a silent nod, sliding your hands up his bare, chiseled chest, locking your fingers together behind his neck.

He starts moving again and you feel him sliding in and out, and you find yourself unable to tear your gaze from his face. His eyes are locked on you too. This feels heavy, but neither of you comment on it. He turns his head to the side to place a kiss to the leg that’s slung over his shoulder, eyes never leaving yours.

Your hands leave his neck to roam through his hair, over his face, touching every part of him you can to commit to memory. You shift your mental focus to the way he feels, beneath your fingertips, his cock inside of you.

You want the Chan you’ve had for the past week for the rest of the time you have him. Open. Earnest. You try to convey this with your eyes as he continues thrusting in and out. He grabs your breast, squeezing it tightly and you part your lips and arch your back in response.

You don’t know if you’ll survive if he goes back to treating you like you don’t matter. You can’t let him do that to you. Can you?

“I know, I know,” he says in response to your unspoken qualms. He kisses your leg once more before releasing it to lay his body flat against yours. He wraps his arms around your head in a hug of sorts, as he continues his deep and steady strokes.

Chan isn’t fucking you tonight. He’s making love to you.

You slide one hand down to where the two of you are joined, finding your clit. He lifts slightly, allowing you more room to rub circles around it.

“Come on my cock, baby,” he commands.

You whimper at his words. Baby.

You rub your clit faster as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, still driving into you as deep as he can. He angles himself so that with each thrust his dick digs against your walls. It’s enough to drive you crazy. You’re whining, moaning, panting.

“Come for me,” he says again. “Come for me baby girl.”

Your hand on his chest goes for his throat. You squeeze your fingers around it and see his eyes darken, but he doesn’t stop you. He moves his hips faster, harder.

“Chan,” you pant, “please. Right there. Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

He keeps the same pace, same angle, same motions until you’re arching your back and squeezing his neck, digging your nails into his delicate skin as you come around his cock. He grits his teeth, grunting and pounding into you furiously as he comes right after.

His movements slow as he finishes. You release his neck and wrap your arms around it instead. He lowers himself on top of you, all but smothering you with his weight but you don’t care. This is a happy way to die, if it comes to that.

You kiss along his collar bone as you both catch your breath. His cock keeps twitching inside of you and you clench the walls of your pussy around him each time it does. His body jerks each time you do it.

“Stop, stop,” he pleads, chuckling softly.

You chuckle in response.

That was different. In ways you hadn’t imagined possible with Chan. The two of you stay on the couch, wrapped up in each other for a while longer.  

The following morning, you’re both woken up by a knock at the door. Chan, just as confused as you, climbs out of bed to answer it. You hear him talking to someone and he returns a few moments later.

“Another Minho surprise,” he tells you. “A couples massage.”

“That actually sounds amazing,” you murmur, pushing off the blankets.

You both go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. You put your hair up in a messy bun then go to the living room while Chan lets in the masseuses. There’s one male and one female. After setting up their massage tables in the open space between the couch and the TV, they leave for the hallway allowing you both some privacy to remove your clothing.

Chan watches you undress with a sly smile on his face, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You stick your tongue out at him and throw your pajama shirt at his face, but he dodges it and catches it in his hand. He folds it neatly and sets it on the couch before removing his own shirt.

When you’re both settled on the tables, they re-enter.

“You’re with me, sir,” you hear Chan say and lift your head.

He’s motioning for the male masseuse to come to him.

“I need firmer hands,” he adds.

But you know that’s not it. No other man outside of the SKZ House is allowed to touch you in the way the masseuse will need to. You know it’s because of that. But it still makes you feel warm inside to think Chan personally doesn’t want anyone else touching you.

After the massage, you and Chan shower together then order a late brunch. He opens his present that you are now extremely embarrassed to give him. When he pulls out the pair of neon blue swim trunks with “Miami Vice” written on it, you hide your face, and he immediately laughs.

“These are loud,” he says. “I’ll wear them to the beach tomorrow.”

Next, he pulls out a refrigerator magnet with “Miami” written across it with palm trees surrounding it.

“To be fair,” you say, wanting to explain, “I had no clue what to get you. You’re not exactly an open book.”

“That is fair,” he agrees. He looks at you with a soft smile, as if he wishes things had been different. He kisses your forehead. “Thank you anyways.”

You spend your final two days mostly relaxing and staying close to the hotel. You spend time at the beach again, Chan in his neon blue swim trunks and looking fucking delectable in them.

Getting on the plane to go home, you’re hit with an overwhelming sense of sadness. Chan’s behavior hasn’t changed yet, and you’re praying that it doesn’t. That even though you both know how this has to end; he can find it within himself to not push you out again. You lean on him and hold his hand for most of the flight back.

Changbin picks you up from the airport and Chan rides up front while you sit in the back. He asks how the trip was and you both reply that it was good. He then addresses Chan in Korean and you’re left clueless in the back seat. But whatever is said, you can feel the weight of it from Chan’s reaction. He leans back in his seat, slouches, and runs his hand through his hair.

You try not to think much of it, but it must be important. They don’t typically speak Korean in front of any of the assignees unless it’s about something that, to be frank, is none of their business.

The car ride is over far too soon, and they still haven’t filled you in on what’s happening.

Once in the driveway, you notice a black car parked in front of the house with a Rolls Royce emblem on the front. You immediately furrow your brow, curiosity and anxiety spiking through the roof at this point.

Changbin exits the car first. You remain planted in the backseat, waiting for Chan to say or explain anything.

He lets out a low breath and leans back against the headrest, eyes closed.

“My dad’s here,” he announces.

Your eyes open wide, and even more confusion sets in. Is it an unexpected visit? Is he not happy to see his father?

“You don’t want him to be?” you ask slowly, carefully.

“Well, it’s never exactly a cause for celebration when any of our parents show up,” he says dryly. “Just…stay out of his way.”

Chan opens his door and you follow in suit.

Changbin has pulled the luggage from the trunk, he’s holding the handle to yours and Chan grabs his own. You move to walk past them both, but Chan grabs your arm to stop you.

You turn to face him, trying to read his expression but a mask is in place.

“Chan,” you say, placing a hand to his chest.

A glint, a flicker of something crosses over his eyes and you see your Chan for a split second.

He kisses your forehead.

“After us. And then straight upstairs, okay?” he says softly.

You nod your head and wait for them to walk to the door first.

As soon as you enter the house, you can feel the commanding presence of his father. Your eyes are drawn straight to him on the living room couch, looking all business in a tailored black suit, black hair slicked back.

“Appa.” Chan says.

“Hello,” you say politely with a small bow at the waist.

You know he told you to go straight upstairs, but it would feel rude to pass by without speaking to him.

His father spares half a glance at you before staring daggers at his son.

Changbin heads for the stairs with your suitcase and you follow him. You look back at Chan and offer as encouraging a smile as you can muster. Chan doesn’t turn to look at you. He walks towards his father like a man heading to the gallows and the sight of him like that punctures your already fragile heart.

[ read chapter 20 here ]

a/n: oof. thoughts? feelings? a lot to unpack here. thank you all again for your patience! and sorry the tags still aren't working :(

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (2/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & oc big thank you to  @soldrawss for the art included in this chapter and to  @mykimouser for making me insane about neutral!michelangelo at all hours of the day title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2031

Mikey is looking for his little brother. It seems like he spends half his life doing that these days. 

The TV is on in Splinter’s room, door ajar but equally as unapproachable as the door to Donnie’s lab, which is shut tight, as usual. Raph’s door is standing open, but his room is empty, because he leaves early for work on the weekdays. 

Mikey maneuvers past the closed doors and empty rooms like a professional. He doesn’t even have to think too hard about it anymore. 

Rounding the corner to the dining room, Mikey’s stride slows and relief punches an exhale out of him. He doesn’t realize how tense he is until he deflates like a balloon. 

Gio is asleep at the table, face half-buried in his folded arms, crossbow and maintenance supplies spread out in front of him. It’s disappointing, but not surprising. He rarely stays in his own room, as if he’s afraid of taking up space that isn’t really his. As if they’re going to change their mind and tell him they do still need it for storage, actually, and he wants to be ready when they do. Mikey’s pretty sure he never fully unpacked his bag. 

Sometimes he leaves the lair entirely, and since he’s the most unreliable texter Mikey knows, and has never met a phone call he would answer without a gun held to his head, he might as well fall completely off the grid each time he’s gone. Mikey stays up on those nights, keeping busy in the kitchen, worrying worrying worrying. 

He feels too much like Raph when he doesn’t know where the kid is. He understands intimately how overbearing big brothers could be, remembers how a tiny rift had formed between him and Raph when they were young because of it—childish and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things to come, but devastating at the time. 

So he tries to channel Leo instead, who had always trusted Mikey to know when to ask for help if he needed it. Tries to make sure Gio never feels like he can’t come home again, with a smile ready for him as soon as he slips silently back through the door. 

But last night Gio must have stayed in. There’s a blanket draped over him that Mikey didn’t put there, and Splinter almost certainly hadn’t left his room to put there, which leaves two possible culprits. Raph and Donnie don’t know how to make gestures that Gio can see for what they are, hardly know how to be in the same room as the kid without seeing a ghost superimposed where he’s standing. It leaves a lot of the emotional heavy-lifting on Mikey’s shoulders, but it’s fine. A brother could never be a burden to him. 

Mikey can’t give Gio everything he deserves to have, everything that should have been his from the very beginning, but he can give him some things. 

And we’ll start, Mikey thinks with the kind of absurd resilience that wouldn’t have been out of place at the actual end of the world, with breakfast. 

Gio wasn’t trained in ninja like the rest of them were but his senses are as sharp as any other turtle genetically modified for war. Mikey woke him up with a touch once and the fear response only lasted a handful of seconds but it was enough that Mikey made the executive decision that no one would ever do that again, or else. 

Mikey pulls a chair out beside the smaller turtle and sinks into it soundlessly. He traces the newly-familiar white spots on that smoky gray-green face with his eyes, counting and recounting them, even though he knows how many there are. Everything about Gio is at once brand-new and well-loved to him. 

After a moment, the only other sound the ancient Snoopy clock counting seconds in the kitchen, Mikey starts to hum. Three little birds sat on my window…

He can’t help remembering another morning just like this one, what feels like a lifetime ago. Mikey, all of thirteen, had insisted on being woken up to make breakfast so he could try a new crumble muffin recipe, but he’d stayed up too late the night before and sleep clung stubbornly to him despite the row of alarms he’d set. Their resident insomniac had been the only one awake, by virtue of not having gone to bed in the first place, and he’d parked himself in the beanbag under Mikey’s hammock and hummed the same song over and over until Mikey woke up. He had it stuck in his head for the rest of the day. They sang “GIRL PUT YOUR RECORDS ON” in the kitchen at the top of their lungs until Donnie sent the group chat a PDF of a noise complaint form, completely filled out. 

Mikey hadn’t realized he was taking any of it for granted back then. He would do anything— anything—to wake up that way again. Just one more time. 

Beside him, Gio stirs. Once he’s awake he’s alert fast, those big dark eyes sliding open and staying that way, head coming up off the pillow of his arms. He has that look on his face that Mikey would be tempted to call earnest on anyone else. 

“Rise and shine, Clementine,” Mikey says brightly, reaching over to rub the back of his fingers against a spotted cheek affectionately. “I was craving breakfast empanadas today and was hoping my best sous chef would be willing to help me out.” Then, deliberately light-hearted, he adds, “Little turtles who skip dinner have to eat extra breakfast, you know. That’s house rule number one.”

Gio blinks at him, his face giving nothing away to the casual observer. 

“I thought house rule number one was ‘always get it in writing’.” 

Mikey’s smile widens, surprised and pleased every time he plays along. 

“That’s number three, actually. Right behind ‘don’t do anything you wouldn’t want recorded and replayed at family functions.’ If you want, I can tell you exactly why that one’s a rule, and why it’s entirely Donnie’s fault.”

Gio does that thing where he assesses Mikey’s expression and tone as though he’s looking for the trap. Mikey weathers it, makes sure his smile doesn’t slip an inch. 

Donatello is more of an urban legend to Gio than his actual living brother. After a few hesitant attempts to approach the older turtle that had been shut down completely each time, Gio made the informed decision that that road was closed permanently. 

Sometimes Mikey will tell a story, or April, on one of her increasingly sporadic visits to the lair, will lean over and show him a video on her phone, and Gio will listen or watch like he has no idea who the guy they’re talking about could possibly be. 

They do their best, but there’s no way to really introduce the Donnie that they know to Gio, because that Donnie only still exists in their stories and videos. The Donatello who was silly, who loved music and theater, who burst into the living room with some new invention or gadget to boast about, had been replaced by one who rarely spoke, who didn’t even have Spotify on his phone anymore since it took up too much space, who kept the lair running only because it was where his family lived but not because he had any lasting attachment to the place, and he certainly didn’t make any unnecessary tech just for fun. 

I know you’re still in there, Mikey thinks sometimes. 

He’ll bring Donnie lunch and leave it on the table in the lab, and then hold out his arms. Sometimes, Donnie won’t look at him. Sometimes, Donnie will put his tools down and let his little brother crowd in for a hug. He’ll tuck Mikey under his chin and hold him tight, like they were children again and nothing was wrong that couldn’t be made right. 

Thank you for staying, Mikey will think, clinging for every second he’s allowed to. I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

The grief is always encroaching, like floodwaters. Rising slow and steady, swallowing up cars and street signs and single level houses, changing the landscape of his hometown until it’s an unfamiliar place. No end in sight. No sign of land. 

Someone send us a boat, Mikey wants to cry hysterically. But he knows how stupid that is.

He is the boat. 

—

When he met Giorgio for the first time, Mikey was twenty-five and Leo had been dead for ten years.

“Sorry,” Mikey said. His fingers felt numb around the phone. “Could you say that again?”

“A turtle,” Hueso had replied shortly. “I would not have called, but he has familiar eyes. He is not aware of any family in the area. Would you like me to ask him to wait for you?”

Mikey hadn’t tried his portals again since the last disastrous time—since Raph had made him promise to stop—so he knew it couldn’t be Leo. He knew it. Hueso would be able to pick his sobrino out of a million turtles and would have led the call with that. And Leo wouldn’t have stopped for pizza before running back to them, he wouldn’t have stopped for anything. Leo would have been the one to let them know Leo was home. 

Still, there was a tiny warbling hope in the bottom of his heart that wailed “maybe, maybe, maybe.” Still, it hurt to feel that hope shrivel up and die when Mikey slammed into the private dining room and found Hueso talking to an unfamiliar mutant with white spots and a black shell and—it was undeniable—Hamato Yoshi’s eyes. 

The turtle was small, dressed in dark grays and greens, a strap across his chest that made it clear he was armed by something resting out of sight on his back. He stood with his arms crossed, in a manner that was probably supposed to read as stubborn or defiant, but Mikey clocked instantly as nervous. 

This kid didn’t know what he was doing here or who the hell Mikey was and he looked about as comfortable with all the attention as Donnie would have been at that age. 

Mikey felt himself soften, some distant part of his heart sitting in disuse and disrepair lurching to life again. Ancestral magic that he had largely turned his back on suddenly stirred, ninpo reaching out fragile feelers toward the person in the room that it recognized as immediately as if it was looking at its own self in a mirror. 

“This is one of my creations,” Draxum announced, confirming what Mikey’s heart had already decided. “It must have survived after all.”

“Elaborate,” Mikey said, in a tone that didn’t match the gentle smile he had for the spotted turtle. 

“How old are you?” the alchemist had asked instead, which seemed an odd first question to have and didn’t explain literally anything. 

“Eighteen,” the spotted turtle replied. Mikey’s brow made a bid for his hairline. He would have been less surprised if the kid had said fifteen. Was he that scrawny as an eighteen year old?

“You hatched at about the same time as the red one,” Draxum said dispassionately, “so you should have been about his age, and he is twenty-seven. And how did you come to be here?”

Gio’s eyes slid away from him, over to Mikey. Mikey didn’t know what his face was doing. He hoped it was encouraging. 

“I went through a yellow door,” Gio said. “And I ended up here.” 

“By yellow door, I’m assuming you mean a rift in space-time,” Draxum said. “What possessed you to walk into it?”

“Felt safe,” Gio said, and that was the last thing he said about it, expression closing up in a way Mikey was intimately familiar with as I’m done talking and liable to bite if provoked. But Draxum was a lot of things, genius among them, and seemed to already have an idea of what had happened. 

Portals could be capricious. The night of Splinter’s mutation and escape from the Hidden City, a machine in Draxum’s original lab had gone haywire as the structure collapsed. Draxum watched as it snatched up various tools and equipment and finally one of the experiment enclosures that Splinter had not been able to reach in time to save its occupant with the four he already carried. 

With the machine destroyed, it was impossible to even begin tracking the experiment down to wherever it had ended up. And there were unfortunately small odds that the creature would have survived long on its own wherever the portal deposited it. Draxum had written it off as dead. 

But there he was. Ten years displaced, but living and healthy and whole. Apparently he’d been in another dimension all this time, and only came back again because a portal he encountered had looked inviting. 

—

And now he’s in Mikey’s kitchen, listening studiously to his brother’s chatter and following instructions with exacting precision, still wearing the ridiculously oversized red sweater Mikey bundled him into the day before. It made Raph’s face do something funny when he saw Gio in it at lunch, but he hadn’t said anything when he saw Mikey hauling it out of the dryer earlier that morning, and he didn’t say anything at the table either.  

Over the years and countless wash cycles it’s been worn to unbelievable softness. It used to be that Raph couldn’t keep it in his closet if he tried, caught as it was in a constant rotation between little siblings who loved to wear it, floppy sleeves and sagging hem and all. It’s almost strange to see it again, here under the kitchen lights in this new country they all live in. 

Stealing clothes was a baby brother right of passage. And it was just collecting dust in storage anyway. 

Gio sees Mikey looking and glances down self-consciously. Then he jolts, and drops the ball of dough in his hands, lifting and twisting his left arm to put it more in the light. Near the elbow of the sleeve is a smudge of flour. 

He thumbs at the spot, preoccupied by it. His body language is shrinking because he always makes himself a smaller target when he starts to get anxious. 

One day, Mikey is going to find whoever taught him to do that and have words. For now, he rounds the island to Gio’s side and leans against it so he can duck down and peer into that little spotted face. He makes sure to plant his own elbow in the flour dusted across the butcher block counter, sending up a little poof of it as he does. 

“Hey, sweet kid, don’t worry about this old thing. It’s already been through everything you can possibly think of,” Mikey reassures, tweaking the hood playfully. “It survived the Paintball War of 2017, it’ll hold up to a little baking accident.”

Gio’s dark eyes lift to meet his, attentive and absorbing everything he sees and so, so careful. 

“Raphael won’t get mad?” 

Mikey keeps smiling, even though he’d like to start crying. 

Of course he won’t, he wants to say. He’s your big brother and he loves you. He’d move heaven and earth for you. He doesn’t know how to say it these days—he doesn’t trust himself to hold people the way he used to, doesn’t know who he is anymore since the shield he used to be was broken—but he’s still Raph. Our Raphie. I promise, it’s still him. 

Gio had never been lifted up into strong arms and tossed in the air until he laughed, caught safely and held tight like those arms would never get tired of holding him. He had never crawled under the blankets in a room humming and blinking with electronics after a nightmare, resting his head on a broad shoulder and falling asleep to a low voice rattling off his favorite explanation of gravity—a force that held everything down, pulled everything together, that could always be counted upon to keep you. He had never snuck out for brunch, just him and someone who saw him more clearly than he could ever see himself, who knew when a stack of French toast and a string of Snapchat selfies and a little mischief was exactly what he needed. 

Gio had never had any of that. He had been alone since he was freshly mutated and abandoned by pure chance, and now he was barely nineteen and he didn’t know how else to be. He didn’t have the first clue, but he was so willing to learn. He soaked up attention like a plant starved for sunlight, petals reaching endlessly for an end to the dark.  

I wish you had been there, Mikey thinks sometimes when he looks at him, heart breaking with the truth of it. We would have held you. You wouldn’t even know how to be alone. You wouldn’t be worried about a stain on a sweater. 

“He won’t get mad,” Mikey says instead. He channels his most charming brother, the one who could sell water to a fish, who could talk his way out of anything, who convinced his family to keep hoping even when all hope seemed lost. “And hey, if he brings it up, we’ll just blame the cat.” 

The corner of Gio’s mouth twitches, and then he smiles despite himself, as buoyed along as Mikey always was when Leo was silly with him, and says, “We don’t have a cat.” 

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for an excuse to get one!” 

At that point, a burst of white noise from the living room cuts over whatever Gio might have been about to say. It sounds like the roar of wind from an open window of a car going seventy down the highway. It cuts off, and then something clatters noisily, and Gio’s reluctantly amused expression vanishes into alarm. 

They don’t exactly get a lot of surprise visitors down here. He wouldn’t recognize the familiar sound of transportation-by-time-scepter, followed by the even more familiar sound of its clumsy wielder tripping and knocking something over immediately upon arrival. 

“Oops—helloooo?” 

“In here, Renet,” Mikey calls back, nudging his shoulder into Gio’s so he knows not to worry. 

The timestress bumbles in, scepter tucked into the crook of her arm so she has both hands free to fix her braids. She’s smiling all big and crooked and sweet, mouth open to greet Mikey the same enthusiastic way she always greets him, but she stops dead in the doorway when she catches sight of the second turtle in the room. 

Renet takes one look at Gio and says, “Oh! Well, you don’t belong here at all, do you?”

It’s been a long time since Mikey has felt like screaming at her, but the way his little brother absorbs that blow without flinching is enough to get him on his feet. 

“Hey, Nettie, can we talk in the hall?” he says with a brightness he doesn’t feel. “Georgie, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gio dips his head in a nod, slowly rolling dough in his hands again, and Renet follows Mikey out of the room like someone who knows they’re about to face the firing squad. 

“I did not mean it like that,” is the first thing she says when it’s just the two of them. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mikey does know that somewhere in the back of his mind. Renet is his friend and she’s never been anything but kind to him. If they had met when they were children, they probably would have gotten along like a house on fire. 

There was a time when he only saw the best in people, but the idealism had been carved out of Mikey when his portal to the prison dimension failed to open.

Some days, Mikey looks at Renet and can only see the person with time itself at her disposal, the past and future spread out like a choose-your-own-adventure book—the person with the power to help, to change things, who took Mikey’s countless, desperate pleas to be allowed to save his brother and held them tenderly like they were important to her and still told him no. 

Some days, that “no” is the most significant thing she ever said to him. 

“He’s my brother,” Mikey says. “He belongs wherever we are.” 

“Of course he does,” Renet says, brown eyes soft. “Mike, of course he does. That’s not what I meant.”

When they move back into the kitchen, introductions are made properly, and Renet makes it a point to clarify that she’s glad to finally meet him. 

Giorgio is watching them with those eyes that take in everything. Deep and trusting when he looks at Mikey, sharpening into something calculative when he shifts his gaze toward Renet. 

Looking back, Mikey will recognize it as the moment he lost him. 

“Smells pretty good in here, boys!” Renet says, swanning over to the stovetop. “Oh, is that chorizo? Mike, tell me you’re not making empanadas! I already ate on my way over!” 

“Then you won’t need to stay for breakfast,” Mikey sing-songs, feathers still ruffled. Then, because he feels bad for the way she deflates at the blatant dismissal, adds, “If you want to stick around, you can take some back with you to Null Time. Just don’t let that jerk Savanti have any, I don’t like his vibe.” “I swear,” Renet says, hand to her heart. 

“You talk about time travel like it’s something you can do,” Gio says suddenly. “Is it?”

The air in the room suddenly feels much thinner than before. Renet looks at Mikey quickly before answering.

“Sure, Gio. I’m a timestress—or, you know, I’m a student now. Basically an unpaid intern. But one of these days I’ll be the real deal.” She winks at him, and Gio gazes back at her placidly. 

“So you could send someone back in time? To stop something bad from happening?”

Oh, no, Mikey thinks. 

“I could,” Renet says. To her credit, she doesn’t sound as bone-tired of this conversation as she must be. “But I can’t. There are so many rules, and for good reason! One little slip-up could be an absolute disaster. It won’t do you any good trying to change the past if you end up destroying the present and the future while you’re at it, right? I’m barely allowed to look at this thing, much less use it,” Renet goes on, wagging the priceless time scepter around like it’s a rubber spatula. 

“But you could,” Gio says. “If we followed all the rules. If we figured out a way—”

“Georgie,” Mikey interjects. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Mike, baby,” Renet says gently. “It can’t be done. He belongs here.” 

Gio says, “But I don’t. You said that.”

“Stop,” Mikey says, not recognizing his own voice. 

But it’s too late. It was too late when he tried to open a door inside the prison dimension, because Leo was already dead inside. 

He was already dead inside, Draxum had said, clinical in a way that helped to distance himself from the hurt, but also distanced himself from the ones hurting, clinical in a way that made Mikey bare his teeth and say things he couldn’t take back. That’s why you couldn’t reach him. It wasn’t your fault. There wasn’t a point for you to anchor off of, there was no other end for your line to reach. He was already dead inside. He was already gone. 

Mikey stares at Gio, the tuck of his chin as he looks back down at the dough on the counter. He’s unwilling to argue with Mikey, but that stubbornness is an innate family trait. There’s no way he’ll give it up now that he’s got his teeth sunk into the idea. Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone.   

When he was younger, he was so angry. He was bursting with potential, with possibilities, his magic a wounded, snarling creature in his heart. It’s not fair that he failed. It’s not fair that he didn’t save his brother, that his love wasn’t enough to punch through the prison dimension and wrap Leo in warmth and light and bring him home. It’s not fair that no one was willing to help him. 

Fine, he had thought, fine! I’ll do it myself! 

Renet had explained to him over and over that his power had more to do with space than time. Casey Jr. said that he’d been sent back in time by his Uncle Michelangelo, but that wasn’t necessarily true. Casey’s arrival in the past had created another universe, parallel to the former. That was Mikey’s power—he could affect and even create other timelines, which was powerful and amazing, but not true time travel. Nothing he did could change his own reality, the one he was living in, because he had already lived it. He couldn’t get back what he had lost. 

Mikey plunged ahead anyway, desperate. He could make it work. He could make a change. Even if it didn’t change anything here, he could find another world and save its Leo and—and maybe that could be a start. Maybe he would finally get his head up above water, and stop drowning for just one second of the day, maybe he’d be able to take a full breath for the first time since his brother disappeared on the other side of a closed door.  

He didn’t wait for permission or approval. He slunk off into a tunnel a mile away from home and drew the circles himself. Lifted his hands and filled them with power, until it felt like he was holding the sun. And it hurt, of course it did. It burned all the way through. But he was hurting anyway. 

A portal opened, a pale yellow window. Mikey looked through it, and saw himself on Staten Island, ripping open a hole in the universe and saving his brother. 

What?

He looked again, over and over, at least half a dozen times—and every time, he looked into a universe where Leo didn’t die. Where Mikey saved him, or Raph scooped him up before he went diving off the Technodrome to catch Mikey and Donnie, or Donnie flew back up to Leo with a rocket and yanked him back through the door before Casey managed to close it. Over and over and over, Leo didn’t die. 

So it’s just me, Mikey realized. I’m the one who got it wrong. 

Raph followed the detonation of ninpo and hysterical screaming through the maze-like tunnels and found him suspended in midair. Rock and rebar were flying around Mikey, everything not nailed to the earth turned dangerous projectiles, his arms burning and flaking away into pieces that disintegrated when they met open air. 

His big brother’s expression had been terrified as he pulled Mikey down into his arms and held him through the shrieking storm he’d made. One hand on the back of his head to keep his face tucked safely into Raph’s scarred shoulder, the other arm cradling him like he was half his age, like he was still someone’s baby. 

“Angie, it’s okay,” Raph had said, low and aching. His voice was a rumble beneath Mikey’s ear, barely audible but just loud enough. “It’s okay. You can scream, you can bring the whole damn city down if you want. But you gotta let go, sunshine. Let go, Mikey.” 

I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to! Mikey wailed, clutching at Raph’s jacket with hands that felt like two white-hot points of pure agony, clinging, holding on. If he let go, Leo stayed gone. If he let go, he really didn’t love Leo enough to save him. 

But Raph pressed his cheek to the top of Mikey’s head, and his next breath shuddered in his chest, and he whispered, “I know you don’t want to, I know. But this isn’t gonna save him. You’re just hurting yourself and L—Leo would hate that. He’d tell you to stop.” One hand crept over to cover both of Mikey’s, squeezing them tight. “Come on, big man. It’s okay. Let go.” 

He let go. The magic faded, dropping everything it had picked up back to the tunnel floor with dull thuds. His hands spasmed wildly, grip nonexistent, and Raph just kept holding them as he carried Mikey home. 

Mikey sobbed for the rest of the night, what felt like hours and hours. Raph reverted to turtle sounds when nothing he said seemed to get through, and Donnie crept under the blanket and plastered himself to Mikey’s carapace so that they had “A little citrus sandwich!” Leo would cheer, the silliest and sweetest turtle in the world until Mikey finally cracked a smile. 

His family made him promise not to try again. It’s not worth it, they said, a unified front—and as much as the words hurt Mikey to hear, it must have hurt his siblings and father just as much to say them. We can’t lose anyone else, they were ready to beg, because they didn’t know it was his fault Leo was gone. They didn’t understand how badly he’d failed them all. If they did, they wouldn’t have been so grimly determined to protect Mikey’s life from his own hands. 

It felt like a betrayal at the time, but he understands now. 

It’s not worth it, he thinks, staring at Gio. I can’t lose anyone else, he’s ready to beg. 

But Mikey knows what it looks like when a brother is about to leave. Mikey knows what it feels like when they’re already gone. 

What he doesn’t know is how to love someone well enough to keep them. 

[theblessedcap]

A Weekend to Remember 💕

Summary: Terry wants to give his girlfriend Siya (Sigh-ya) a peaceful weekend away at his place to help her loosen up after a rough week. 🩵

Warnings: Some smut 💋 and 420 friendly 🍃

This is my first fanfic y’all so take it easy on your girl. It’s been a while! lol. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terry POV

Friday Night 🌙

My girl Siya, who I’ve been seeing for about five months now, has been expressing her frustration with work all week. I’m not quite sure what her exact job title is but I know she works with badass kids and intense parents everyday in the school system. I’ve always admired her patience with people on a daily. I told her I do labor and engineering work for a reason cause I’d catch a case. Nonetheless, I know she needs an outlet and frankly, just a good time so she can let her hair down a bit. I can admit I’ve been slightly negligent to my lady’s feelings recently due to my own work being a shit storm with high volumes of orders and requests needing to be completed. A couple nights in a row I’ve been falling asleep on her mid conversation from pure exhaustion. I know that stings her a bit because we don’t live together and she really treasures our nightly FaceTime calls. She lives about 35 mins away from me on the other side of the county so anytime I get to see her face I try to make it last. I know she knows I still love her and I’m here for her like always but I’m the type of man to show it. Especially when I know I’ve been slacking a bit.

On the way home from work today, on a high from finally making it to Friday, I text Siya to let her know my plans.

T: Hey babe, hope your work day ended on a high note today. I want you to pack a bag to stay over my place for the weekend. I wanna show you how much I’ve missed you all week.. I’ll be there to get you around 6. I love you ❤️

S: Oooo you got plans plans huh? 😏 lol ok baby, I’ll be ready when you get here. Just let me know when you’re on the way 😘

I smile down at my phone at her response. She always finds a way to make me laugh. That’s why this weekend I want her to feel like she’s fully taken care of. My girl is the kind of woman who loves detail but loves simplicity even more. She loves good vibes and ambience.. she loves to be able to take in all the small joys around her and revel in them while spreading that same feeling to the people around her. It made me think about what I wanted to plan for us this weekend. I want to take Siya’s mind off of all her stress and worries and I have to be quick because I only have about 2 hours until I pick Siya up…

Siya POV

That text from Terry made my day. I haven’t stopped smiling since I got it just as I was about to sprint to my car after calling it a day at work. Don’t get me wrong, I love aspects of my job but the mental rigor of trying to put out fires everyday is A LOT. I was just starting to get annoyed with Terry actually, he’s been seeming a bit distant and uninterested but those thoughts faded away as soon as I read that text. If there’s one thing I know about my man its that he’s thoughtful when it counts and loves to prove it.

Getting home to my quiet condo, I drop all my stuff in my office room then head straight to my bathroom to shower off all the angst of the day. Blasting some Summer Walker and Kehlani while the hot water slowly soothes my body into relaxation. I make sure to shave and moisturize something serious not yet knowing exactly what Terry has planned. I just have a feeling it’s going to make me fall in love with him even more.

After my shower, I decided to fix something small to eat to hold me over and then pack my bag for a stay at my man’s.

*phone vibrates*

T: I’m heading to you now babygirl 🩵

S: Ok be safe ❤️ see you soon daddy 💋

I don’t know what it is but Terry still makes me giddy and nervous. I can’t stop checking my hair and light makeup in the mirror just to make sure nothing is out of place. If he knew I was taking what I looked like so serious, he would reprimand me saying you look beautiful regardless, don’t trip but hey, I’m just a girl with nerves!

Dressed in a causal three piece cozy fit, perfect for this fall weather and brisk evenings, I wait for Tory to arrive while chilling on my living room couch. Just as I start to feel a little antsy my phone vibrates again.

T: Come open your door for me beautiful

Without texting back, I hop out of my seat and speed walk to the door with a smile. I open the door to find my tall, muscular, ocean eyed teddy bear of a boyfriend dressed in a hoodie and joggers to match.

“There she is” he says before softly pulling me into his arms and lifting me into a tight hug. He smells so good..

“Hey baby, I missed you so much” I say before planting a kiss on his soft, plump lips.

“I’ve missed you too baby girl. More than you know. Come on, let me get your bag for you” He says slightly brushing past me into the living room to grab my pink duffle bag. “You ready, mama?”

Terry POV

It feels so good having Siya next to me again. It’s only been about a week and a half since I’ve last seen her in person but right now let me know that’s too long without her. Her soft, luscious, radiant skin. Her fragrance that always smells like something sweet that makes me hungry for her. Head full of curls and that amazing smile that still makes my heart skip a beat. I’m sprung, no doubt. I can’t keep my hands off her as I hit the highway heading back to my place. My free hand found its way in between the heat of her thighs and rested there for comfort as I gripped the steering wheel. Snoh Alegra playing from my truck speakers and our heads bobbing to the smooth tunes. I look over at Siya softly singing the words and I crack a smile involuntarily. Call me corny but I made a playlist just for this ride back so I knew she’d be feeling it.

“You know this is my song” She says with a playful smirk while dancing in her seat.

“Yeah I know love”

Siya went back to her karaoke as i focused on not missing a turn right up ahead of us. As soon as I made the turn off our usual route, Siya stops her concert and looks at me with curious eyes.

“Where we going?” She asks

“Just a little detour babe, don’t worry” I reassure her grabbing onto her hand to hold.

I could tell my words put her at ease. I watch her lean back in her seat to take in the beautiful sunset outside our car windows. The sky barely lit but just above the horizon it’s painted a firey bright orange with clouds leaving small traces of purple and blue. Approaching our destination, I see Siya sit up, peeking out of the windows to take in the view before us. A walking park adorned with vast land scattered with trees and a beautiful lake front that provided a perfect view to watch the remainder of the sunset. The area is empty and barely any cars drive past at this time of day. Perfect for a chill ass smoke session to get my girl right for this relaxing weekend I got planned for her.

Siya POV

Terry is always up to something I tell ya. I’ve always appreciated the effort and thought he puts into the things he does for me. No matter how little or large. Terry knows I’m a sentimental nostalgic who loves taking in sunsets and sunrises. I mean, I couldn’t even count the amount of moon photos I have in my camera roll too. He also knows I don’t take the time to enjoy these things as much as I’d like to. To just be present.. with a beautiful view.

“Let’s sit at these benches over here” Terry said taking my hand and leading me to our seats near the lake.

“This is beautiful Terry. How do you know about this place?”

“Me and a homeboy of mine use to come here and go fishing sometimes. We even came out here just to chill. Get our minds right” Terry reaches into this hoodie pocket, “So, with my beautiful lady having the hard week she did.. I figured we’d start this weekend with some reallll relaxation” he declares pulling out a thick cigar blunt with a playful, big cheesy smile.

Terry and I have smoked together before but it’s been quite a while. Shortly after we started dating we both decided to take a tolerance break and focus on work and being a bit healthier. Not to say we didn’t break our pact from time to time but it has definitely been a couple months since I faced a fat blunt.

“When did you start smoking again?” I ask genuinely curious.

“Right now. I figured since work has been kicking both of our asses, we deserve this. You deserve this,” He says lighting the blunt and passing it to me. Instantly the thick weed smoke and scent hit my nose and brought back all those fond memories of getting high and letting my worries roll off of me like water.

I take a deep breath and allow the smoke to hit my chest. I hold it for a few seconds before a deep harsh cough escapes my throat.

“Take it easy, babe” Terry said laughing while patting my back.

“Oh whatever! It’s been a while” I snap back at him out of a little embarrassment of my fragile lungs. I take another puff and force myself to keep in the smoke long enough to feel the after effects.

“You good mama?” Terry asks me as I pass him back the blunt.

“Yeah I’m good. This shit is hitting me nice..” I say leaning back into the bench, letting my body and mind unwind. I start to listen to the gentle wind of the night breezing past my ears, the lake in front of me rippling from the wind. It’s so peaceful. I feel Terry’s arm cradle my shoulders from be side, providing extra warm from the cool breeze. We continued to pass back and forth until our blunt became a roach. The lowering sun completely gone but now the fluorescent moonlight took its place. It gave us ample light reflecting from the shimmering lake. I could feel every bit of my body soften and loosen up. My head lay back to rest on Terry’s buff arm still wrapped around me. We were both pretty quiet enjoying our high and the tranquility around us. I look over to Terry to make sure he’s okay only to meet his incredible grey eyes, low and hazy from the marijuana, already locked on me.

“How you feeling?” He asks deep in tone, his gaze still stuck on me.

“Good. I feel great actually”

“Good. I’m glad to hear, babe. Come here…” Terry whispers before grabbing me around my waist and pulling me into his lap. Never taking his eyes off me. I was starting to really get lost in them. All I could picture was the last time we fucked, soaking my satin panties as I clinch my thighs on Terry’s lap. My eyes gaze down to his juicy pink lips that just seem to be calling my name. Without hesitation, i pull Terry in for a passionate kiss. Lips smacking and soft biting making us both groan into each other’s mouths. I could feel Terry’s thick bulge grow stiffer below me as he shifts my booty on his lap to help adjust himself. He let out a soft moan before placing lewd, wet kisses all over my neck.

“Terry you know that makes me weak” I moan out as he hits all my spots causing me to quiver.

Ignoring my plea, gripping onto my thighs, he continues to place warm kisses on my neck and slowly down my chest. Suddenly he stops and looks up at me. The moonlight beaming out of his now dark clouded eyes. He sits up, gently moving me off his lap and back on the bench before standing up and starting to take off his hoodie. I bite my lip watching him undress, revealing a white tee hugging his defined abs and massive arms. I quietly stare up at him from my seat, heat rising within me from anticipation, wondering what’s next to come. Also forgetting that we’re technically in public.

I’m high as shit.

“Lay back on my hoodie babygirl” Terry says softly while stretching his hoodie out on the bench space beside me. I do as he ask and lay my heated back to the wood bench to rest. Terry, now sitting by my feet and smirking down at me, slowly turns to me with his eyes still intensely on me, lifts my legs and places them firmly over his shoulders. Now I get the hint..

“Take these off” he whispers before licking his lips and pulling at my pants with authority.

I lift my lower body to assist him in slipping my pants and panties off in one quick swipe. The cool air hit my bare legs and made me clinch my legs shut.

“Open up for me, babe” Terry commands sliding his large body back on the bench and lowering his head right above my wet, aching pussy. “I got the munchies.. but all I wanna snack on is you”

With a sloppy, wet kiss to my throbbing clit, Terry began to devour my pussy like his last meal. I couldn’t help but to moan loudly as he slurps and licks me with purpose. One thick swipe of his tongue after another. As he playful darts his tongue in and out of my pussy and tenderly rubs my pulsing clit, I stare up at the stars above. Thanking God and the universe that I’ve found this man.

“Ahhhh Terry.. this feels so fucking good babyyy” I cry out reaching for the bench arm rest behind my head for leverage.

“Mmm.. you taste so damn good mama.. I could eat you all night..” he spoke with all his concentration still on my leaking pussy. Suddenly feeling two thick fingers slowly sliding into me, I arch my back out of pure ecstasy.

“Fuuuuck” I cry out letting Terry quicken his pace. Beginning to feel an amazing but unfamiliar pressure build within me.

“Pussy clenching up baby, you about to cum?”

“Oh my god… Terry!” I shout unable to explain what I was feeling. Silence falls as nothing but the sound of Terry’s fingers slipping in and out of me and his slurping and smacking fill the air. My eyes close shut and I swear even with them closed, I can still see stars. Suddenly, a loud gush erupts from my slippery center.

“God damn..” Terry groans staring at my pussy forming a puddle below him with a look of pride and accomplishment.

“Did you just make me squirt?!” I asks out of pure shock. Did I really just squirt on my boyfriend on a public bench?

“Hell yeah I did. You got me and my hoodie soaked baby girl” he says with a chuckle and a menacing smirk.

“Oh my god” I say laughing to myself, covering my face as Terry lifts me up to hold me in his arms, face to face.

“Aww none of that now. Shit, that was fucking amazing. I didn’t know you could squirt like that, mama. I find it sexy.. lets me know I’m doing all the right things.. maybe I should get you high and eat you out more often” he suggest with that enticing smile of his.

“Yeah maybe” I respond with a smile and gaining a little sense of confidence back. The sound of loud car exhaust approaching made us both grab for our clothes and get dressed. Terry wasn’t lying when he said I soaked his hoodie. Even with it being black I could tell I left the majority of it damp and knew he’d be cold in this frigid wind as we walk back to his truck.

“I’m sorry again about that Babe” I say with my arms crossed in front of me to shield my exposed skin from the breeze.

“You don’t hear me complaining do you? Stop worrying, love. So what I’m drenched? I love that shit. All that matters to me right now is that you feel good.. you gushing all on me like that just shows me you was feeling more than good though.. right baby?” He asks slowly stepping closer to me, forcing my back against the truck door, invading my space in a way that makes my knees almost buckle. Him and these goddamn eyes!!

“Oh I’m more than good..” I almost whisper looking deep into his glistening orbs, feeling like I’m under a trance.

“That’s what I like to hear. Gimme kiss..” Terry says before pulling me into him by the waist and giving me two sweet, wet kisses, “come on, beautiful. Let’s get back on the road. We still got the night ahead of us.”

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK and sorry for any typos 🙈🩷 Depending on feedback I’ll write the rest of the weekend with Tory and Siya 🥰 I have a feeling this is gonna get cute and nasty lmao appreciate y’all! -Kye ✌🏽

[azzo0]

Good Old Days

Summary: You fall asleep by the window one night and wake up to the doorbell ringing. You did not expect it to be Togame Jo of all people. After all, you guys had drifted apart some time ago.

Pairing: Togame Jo x fem!reader

Follows the anime. Not proofread </3

wc: 2.1k

You sat on the windowsill with a steaming cup of tea in hand, watching the lights below slowly turn on one by one. You had turned off the lights in the living room, leaving one table lamp on. This has been your evening routine for a while now, spending a few hours alone at your windowsill, big and cosy enough to put a cushion behind your back and a blanket on your legs with a teapot of green tea or milk tea on the small round table.

You watched the street down below come to life as the sky grew darker and the neon lights grew brighter. This was the hour you found this place most interesting. With the working day over, the pubs and bars thrummed with vibrance—not something you got to see during the day. Usually, there were a lot of people in yellow jackets with the Lion's Head logo on the back, but today, not a single one of them was to be spotted, given that they had challenged Bofurin to a fight.

You were supposed to be there in Ori, watching your team fight, but you didn't go. You glanced at the door where your bright yellow jacket hung on a cat hook. You spent most of your time in solitude these days, avoiding every member of the Lion's Head. Especially Togame Jo, your best friend. You hadn't stripped him of the title even though it had been a while since you talked to him.

Sometimes, he still approached you when he saw you. He'd push his tinted glasses down on that beautifully sculpted nose and walk towards you like he had all the time in the world, the thuck-thuck of his geta so annoyingly loud. He'd bend a little bit so he was face to face with you, his droopy emerald eyes and hypnotic voice managing to make your skin flush and your heart race even now. He'd tell you he hasn't seen you around and ask if you're avoiding the members because you're 'scared'. Each time, you'd roll your eyes and tell him you had better things to do.

Togame had changed a lot ever since Choji had become the top dog, which caused the whole of Lion's Head to undergo a drastic change. You'd been a part of the group long before Togame and Choji joined. This wasn't what you wanted to be a part of. You still missed the old Lion's Head, where you and Togame lazed on sunny rooftops together after training. You'd braid his hair for him, and he'd often stop by your place to get patched up, and before you knew it, you had fallen hard.

You sighed and rested your head against the window pane. It was raining. Speaking of rain, it was a rainy day sometime after Choji had become top dog when you and Togame drifted apart.

You stood under an umbrella, watching Togame throw punch after punch at the man on the ground. He got up at last and ripped the yellow jacket off the bloodied man. He silently made his way to you, discarding the jacket in a trash can. You raised the umbrella so he'd be sheltered from the rain. Noticing your efforts to go on tiptoes, he held the umbrella for you.

You watched the former Lion's Head member bleed on the ground unconsciously. Your fist clenched to your side as you went on staring until a pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes.

"Head up in the clouds?" Togame asked. You shook your head and cleared your throat.

"I want to ask you something, Jo."

"Oh? Go on."

"Would you do the same if it was one of your friends or me?" You asked. He visibly froze. The pitter-patter of the rain grew heavier as you awaited his response, "Do you even care about the members anymore?"

Togame's grip around the handle tightened. His gaze averted away from your face and to the unconscious man. He spoke at last, "There is no place for the weak in Lion's Head. Why are you worried about it, though? You're strong enough, so don't worry your pretty little head-"

"What if I wasn't?" You interrupted, "You wouldn't hesitate to throw aside our friendship and all that we've built up, wouldn't you?"

You swore you saw a flash of hesitance strike his face. You were well aware he had the same feelings you held for him. It was obvious in the way he unconsciously jumped in front of you during fights, the way he looked at you for longer than he needed to, and the way he wandered to your apartment every night so you could pamper him and take care of his wounds.

"The same rules apply to everyone." He said firmly.

You nodded and stepped out of the umbrella's shelter. Togame made a move to follow after you, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest, "Sorry, Jo."

Without waiting for a response, you left him there. It wasn't that you were upset he'd kick specifically you out of the group if you messed up. You couldn't bear standing with this version of Togame. It was almost painful watching him give up his image for someone else.

You longed for the good old days when you'd sit on the sunny roof with colourful popsicles while sharing giggles and secret lovesick glances.

You had dozed off with the cold cup of tea in your hand when you heard the bell ring. You glanced at the glow-in-the-dark clock on the wall to see it was only eight. You got off the windowsill and set the cup on the table. You checked the peephole, surprised when you saw Togame of all people. He looked down at his feet with sad eyes, the yellow jacket bunched in his fist. He raised his hand to knock again but chose against it, turning around instead.

You unlocked the door and opened it before he went to the elevator. He slowly turned around, his shoulders slightly slouched. You took in his disheveled state. His hair was out of the braid he wore at all times, and his glasses were missing. He had shoe prints on his shirt from being kicked.

"Am I still welcome inside?" He asked.

You're always welcome here.

You stood aside and held the door open for him, "Come in."

Togame stepped into your cosy little apartment, taking his time observing what was new as he went over to the couch. He noticed the pillow and blanket on the windowsill. Emerald eyes shifted over to you in the kitchen, not separated by any wall, "If I knew you were asleep, I wouldn't have come."

"It's alright, I just fell asleep by the window." You replied with your back to him as you set a kettle on the stove for green tea.

He sat in silence, looking down at his feet, with the only sounds being metal and glass clinking. His entire body ached, but he didn't go home. Instead, he wanted to come see you. After the fight with Bofurin today, the Lion's Head would revert to what it once was, but he didn't want that to happen without you. It wouldn't be the same without you following him everywhere.

Your absence all this time weighed heavy on him. Sometimes, he'd catch you wandering around with your hands in the pockets of your jumper, but he usually didn't have the heart to approach you. If he did happen to approach, he wasn't able to say what he'd been wanting to. Where have you been? How are you? I miss you. I'm sorry. Let's hang out together again. Just like the good old days.

He heard you set a cup of green tea on the table and looked up to see you go to your bedroom, returning shortly with a little box he knew all too well. It was the cardboard box where you kept the first-aid supplies. He picked up the steaming cup of green tea to keep his hands from fiddling.

You sat on the floor by the coffee table and opened the flaps, taking out a roll of bandage and a bottle of antiseptic. You glanced at the bright yellow jacket thrown to his side and then up at his face.

"We lost?" You asked, averting your gaze again, taking his free hand to clean his knuckles with the cotton swab dipped in antiseptic. He hissed when you dabbed the antiseptic on his knuckles.

"We did." He replied, watching you patch his hands. Your moonlit features made his heart stir, and he wanted to make you look at him so he could study every inch of your face he had already memorised.

"But it was worth it." He added after some time.

You stopped and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, "How so?"

He opened and closed his mouth, Adam's apple bobbing as he searched for words. He cleared his throat at last, "I won't be taking off jackets anymore. After the fight with Bofurin... I realised how much Choji was struggling, and instead of facing it, we brought misery to the entire group. We're going to fix things– Choji and I." He brushed your hair out of your face, fingers grazing your cheek. Your eyes widened at him, "We're going to gather everyone and apologise tomorrow. But before that, I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah?" You forced yourself to look away from his deep green eyes and motioned to the hand he held the cup in. He shifted the cup to the other hand so you could clean his knuckles. His hand was warm to the touch, thanks to the teacup. From what he told you, you knew Lion's Head would go through a change again, this time a good one.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ruined the Lion's Head you loved." You could tell he tried not to let his voice crack, "To answer your question from back then... I've removed jumpers more than I can count, kicked away members more than I can count... but you," he cradled your face ever so gently in his shaking hands, "I could never do the same to you. I could never kick you away from me, even though that's what happened. I want to keep you close to me, right against my chest."

"Jo..." You whispered, your heart thumping wild at his words. You leaned into his touch and smiled softly, "I was never mad at you in the first place. I'm sorry for distancing myself."

He moved to the floor beside you, sitting on his knees. He shook his head, "I don't blame you for that. It's not your fault."

You wrapped your arms around his torso, taking him by surprise. Your arms tightened around him, your ear resting on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat slowly rise as his hands hovered behind you. He finally put his arms around you and pulled you closer, burying his nose in your hair. He missed the smell of your shampoo. He'd almost forgotten how small you were against his frame.

He cupped your cheek, making you look up at him, "Can I kiss you?"

You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you nodded, leaning closer, peering into his droopy olive eyes, his breath fanning your lips. His lips grazed yours in a just-there kiss. Like Togame, his kiss was lazy and slow, too, taking his time to feel your plush and warm lips. You pushed into him, fully pressing your lips against his. You were sitting in his lap now, with his hand slowly tracing up your spine.

Togame pulled away, out of breath from the brief kiss. He couldn't help but smirk at you as you stared at him through thick lashes, your skin warm to the touch. "Finally," he murmured.

"Finally." You smiled. He nuzzled under your neck, making you giggle when his eyelashes brushed your skin.

"Alright, more of this later," You smacked his arm playfully and got off his lap, "Go take a shower, and I'll see to the rest of your wounds after that. I have clothes that'll fit you."

"Thank you," he smiled.

Warmth buzzed under your skin as you watched Togame get up and make his way to the bathroom. The kiss made you feel woozy, and you put a hand on your chest to feel your heartbeat. You got your good old days back, and even better, you had the person who shone the brightest in your memories of the good old days.

[ahundredtimesover]

Title: Please Love Me Drabble Bonus (10) - I want this so much.

WC: 12,663

Tags/Warnings: foul language; alcohol consumption; talks of pregnancy, explicit sexual content (kissing, dirty talk, fingering, breast play, overstimulation, oral (m & female receiving), straddling, unprotected penetrative sex), lots of fluff; Seven JK (18+)

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hi. I’m on a break from my indefinite break. Seven JK was a burst of inspiration (so were his WeLives bc dreamy househusband alert!) and PLM!JK definitely has reasons to f*ck his wife seven days a week. So please enjoy this fluff piece because it’s happening!💕

“Babe, is the curling iron still on?”

Your husband calls out from the walk-in closet behind you, and you yell out your yes as you place the item in question on the dresser, ruffling your hair up a bit and styling it as you wish. 

You're so immersed in trying to figure out what look you want to go for that you don’t immediately notice Jungkook standing next to you, iron in hand as he curls the edges of his smooth locks. When your eyes flit to him, you’re momentarily hypnotized, your movements stopping for a few seconds before you’re able to regain your bearings and decide on a loose bun to match the low-back satin dress you have on. 

“You okay there, babe?” Jungkook asks as he picks up on your silence, with you seemingly avoiding looking at him. 

You nod in response and he smirks, feeling like he knows what’s got you acting like this. He’s known for a while that he affects you in a certain way; your trip to Busan not long ago reinforced that, given the way your body reacted to everything he did at your command. But still, knowing that he makes you flustered even with clothes on gives him that boost of confidence and that air of cockiness that he knows you adore. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, turning to look at you while you keep your eyes on the mirror.

You finally face him and release a deep sigh. “You look really good,” you admit, your cute little frown melting all the knots in his body. 

“Why do you make it sound like it’s a bad thing?” He chuckles, flashing you that boyish smile that he also knows drives you wild. 

“Because…” you start, your arms crossed now to establish some distance. “I’m gonna have to control myself around you and behave but that’s hard when you look… like that.”

“Who says you have to control yourself and behave? You’re my wife and you have my permission to keep your hands on me any time and you know, misbehave or something,” he cheekily responds, his smug face making you want to smack his chest and pull his hair out of lust and frustration. 

“We’ll be in public, Kook!”

“Tae booked a private club, though.”

You frown at his teasing but it only urges your husband to tease even more. 

“They also have private rooms so when you absolutely cannot help yourself, we can always get one and maybe I’ll let you put on a show for me. Or I can do that, it depends if you still have yourself together by then.”

“Kook! You’re not helping,” you pout, and much as he wants to keep going, he also just wants to wrap his arms around you and that’s what he does, pulling you close and softly smiling at you. 

“I’m kidding. Sort of,” he chuckles. “But we can also just skip the party and stay in, you know? I’ll keep my clothes on until you take them off me, or until you ask me to, just like last time,” he smirks now. “And we can just do whatever we want. You won’t have to worry about controlling yourself or anything.”

“Tempting, but we did promise Taehyung that we’d come tonight,” you say, wrapping your arm around his neck while you fix the strands of his hair, knowing the style he wants to go for. “Opening an art gallery is kind of a big deal. And I am a featured artist in his collection so we absolutely have to be there.”

“I know,” Jungkook says. “I won’t hear the end of it if we skip it. But at least I’ve got a reason to swap the business wear for something different. And you know, fluster my wife because of it, make her speechless and tell me I look good.”

“Ah, is that what you expected to happen,” you arch an eyebrow, feeling called out because that’s definitely what happened. 

He’s always been a little cocky but he’s amped it up recently and you’re not complaining; he has all the reasons to be. You know he knows that you love it when he is. 

“Well, I actually expected you to be on my lap right now, marking me all over and moaning out curses,” he chuckles, his laughter increasing in volume as your face distorts in feigned annoyance once more. “But I guess the outfit isn’t sexy enough.”

“Now you’re just pushing it,” you playfully smack his chest. “You don’t even wear tight clothes like this. You always said they made you feel stuffy.”

Pulling away to fully absorb Jungkook’s look, you smack yourself internally for even attempting to take him all in, only because of all the scenarios playing in your head right now. And he’s right, being on his lap and claiming him as you cuss out your pleasure is what you would be doing if you weren’t running late. But you are, and acting out all your desires would have to wait. 

“Well, since I married you, Mrs. Jeon, I’ve become quite the observant man,” he boasts. “I pick up on what turns you on and I use it to my advantage. You loved it when I had the sleeves of my white shirt rolled up and this is just the tight fit version of it.” 

Much as you want to kiss him right now, you can’t help but soften at his words. He is observant, especially when it comes to things you like about him. You remember how he’d started buying colored and patterned tops after your honeymoon years ago because you said you liked them on him. Recently, you notice that he’s been wearing jeans for his casual wear a lot more now, and how he’s kept his hair the specific length that you once said you loved on him. 

His best friends say that Jungkook was always just content on his monochromatic sweats and hoodies because they’re comfortable and don’t require much thinking when he decides to put them on, and so knowing that he keeps you in mind when he dresses up is quite sweet, especially knowing that he doesn’t really care what people say unless it’s you. And if you show that it’s something you like, Jungkook will definitely keep doing it to make you happy. 

“And the leather pants?” You ask.

“Jimin suggested it, said it fits more with a plain white shirt than jeans for a club. Do you like it?” He wonders, looking anxious, as if there’s anything he wears that you don’t like. Maybe except for this one university shirt that has holes on them that he still wears. 

“Of course I do, hun,” you say, wrapping your arms around his waist now. “You look like the sexiest, most beautiful man alive but I also don’t mind if you just wore whatever you wanted. You’ll look gorgeous either way.”

“Well, some people dress for themselves, and some people also don’t mind, like me. I’ll wear anything that’s comfortable, as long as it makes my wife happy.”

“But this outfit makes me horny though.”

Jungkook smirks before licking his lips, and right when you think he’s gonna kiss your mouth as he leans forward, he goes for your neck instead, sucking a bit of flesh before he trails upwards with soft pecks towards your ear.

“That’s better,” he whispers, sending shivers all over you that he definitely feels, earning you a teasing chuckle. 

He turns to face you and sees the desire in your eyes, and he knows you’d both break eventually but still, he states, “I don’t wanna mess your lipstick, baby.”

“I don’t care,” you moan, feeling the wetness pool between your thighs now, and your words prompt Jungkook to crash his mouth against yours to taste the lust that’s expressed all over your body. 

He tastes of mint cherry and yearning and smells of deep vanilla and ecstasy. His hands trail down to your ass that he ardently squeezes while yours travel towards his hair, the soft pulls eliciting moans from him, as your hips meet his thrusts the same way that your tongue battles against his, desperate and impassioned, your beings melding into one. 

Time feels frozen as it’s just you and him. Until your phone starts ringing, incessantly, and it registers to you that it might be Nari, who you’d promised to pick up on the way to the club. 

You pull away, telling your husband that you both have to go. 

“Well, at least your lipstick’s not completely messed up,” he hums.

“Yeah, but my underwear is,” you groan, and it’s your pout and scurry towards your closet that lets Jungkook know that you’re serious. Your little make out session did turn you on and if it wasn’t for a disruption, maybe you would be on his lap right now just as he expected - more like dreamed. 

“I take it back,” he states, walking towards the bathroom where you now are. “I think the outfit’s sexy enough, don’t you think?”

You enter the private club that Taehyung booked for the party and spot less familiar faces than the official opening of the art gallery earlier in the week. Given, tonight is specifically for the fashion and entertainment crowd, a strategic decision for him who wants to attract patrons other than the usual from the art and business fields. It’s a good way to make use of his family’s connections, and it’s also another means of exposing your work to a different audience. 

It’s why Taehyung’s been excited to introduce you to the guests, making sure you meet all of them, as he goes around the space to greet them. You don’t mind, really. He has a great eye and a unique way of expressing and selling his art, and as he matches it to his target market, you find yourself learning from him, too. He even got one of them to commission you for a piece, someone who doesn’t mind waiting in line, given that you’ve been pacing your work due to health reasons. 

Taehyung finally states that he now wants to get on with the actual party, so he heads to the bar to order some shots while you walk towards the table where your husband and all your friends are. You take the seat next to Jungkook who promptly looks at you with a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Babe, why are you sitting there?”

“Where else would I sit?” You ask, sipping from a glass of water. 

Jungkook spreads his arms and nods towards his lap, causing you to burst in laughter, although he doesn’t seem to find it all that funny. 

“I won’t sit on your lap, honey,” you giggle. “I can do that at home.”

“Our friends won’t mind,” he huffs. 

“I would,” you respond. 

“He just wants to make a statement,” Jimin chimes in. “We can’t count how many girls have walked up to him asking if the seat - I mean, his lap - is taken. Why he’s even manspreading, we don’t know.”

You laugh along with your friends as you turn to your husband, as if asking him why he’s doing exactly that.

“I always had the image of men in leather pants sitting like this,” Jungkook answers. “I guess it fits the vibe.”

“Well, if you keep doing that, more women are gonna try their luck. And I can’t really blame them,” you say, moving your seat closer to him because suddenly, the idea of people hitting on your husband makes you just a little bit uneasy. 

“And they’ll keep getting rejected. I don’t know why they think that line would work,” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Why did you think it would work on me?” 

“Let’s just say, you have a track record,” he smirks at you. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten how just kissing me affected you earlier. Oh baby, you have it bad for me,” he whispers now.

You’d be annoyed at him if he wasn’t right, but of course he is. It’s the boyish charm and effortless sexiness that get you all the time, and that’s on top of all the other things that make him an amazing husband and lover. 

His wiggling eyebrows let you know that he’s teasing, and your scrunched nose tells him you’re enjoying it. 

But even then, he pulls you close and softly kisses your cheek. “And I’ve got it bad for you, too, baby. I’ll do whatever you want tonight, just tell me.”

“What about a message and cuddles?” You release a deep breath. “Meeting the guests tired me a bit.”

“Then I’ll do that. We can have a bath together and sleep in, too. Does that sound good?”

You nod in response, smiling at the thought that despite your incessant teasing, you and Jungkook could edge each other with your flirting but also wouldn’t mind if one of you decides for something soft and wholesome instead. It’s not so much self-control as it is the way your relationship has come to work - sure, sex is always good; you’d push each other’s buttons for fun or even as foreplay, but pillow talk while your limbs are entangled under the sheets are just as amazing. You’ve learned that every intimate moment with him is special as it happens; you could only hope it’s an aspect of your marriage that won’t ever change. 

Your moment is disrupted when Taehyung arrives with a server and a tray of shots, with him insisting that each person has to take one. You give in even if you hadn’t planned on drinking at all, but when you say that’s all you’ll have for the rest of the night, none of your friends question you. They know you and Jungkook are actively trying to get pregnant, and consuming alcohol does affect that, so they let you be. Jungkook orders a glass of juice right after though, but you don’t question him, even if you’d expected that he’d go for another round or at least a bottle of beer. 

As the host that he is, Taehyung urges everyone to get on the dance floor, the alcohol now kicking in after the rest of your friends downed more shots. 

“We’re good here,” Jungkook says. “You tired my wife a little over there.”

“Nah, we all know you’re the only one who can do that,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, his lack of filter causing you and your husband to just laugh.

“I’m okay, Kook,” you say, reaching out your hand for him to take. “I’d be silly not to dance with you looking like this. Plus, didn’t you want to make a statement that you’re taken or something?” You laugh. 

“I do, actually,” he smirks, leading you to the dance floor where your friends have gathered. “But I’d also be silly not to dance with you looking like this,” he continues, running his hand down your bare back until it sits right on your ass. He squeezes it a little before holding you by the waist, swaying them in tandem with your hips as you dance to the music. 

You’ve got your hands around his neck and your eyes locked on his, his smile turning more sultry as the seconds tick by. You feel him grind against you and you welcome the friction, as you find yourself lost in the sounds and the weight of his stare. 

“Nothing like a song about fucking everyday to get us in the mood, huh,” he whispers in your ear, his fingers gripping your dress to control himself.

“Good thing we’re married and can do that, then,” you whisper back. “But that would also be incredibly tiring.”

Jungkook laughs. Much as he knows it’s something that his amazing stamina would allow him to do, he also knows that’s too much for you. But he’d never complain. Anything with you is enough; being with you is enough. Falling asleep with you is all that he wants, even during that rare time when he was upset. He’s learned that when it comes to you, no distance is farther than when he’s not next to you; he’d take any pain on either of your ends, as long as he has you by his side. 

He’s overcome with emotion at the thought, so he doesn’t control himself when the urge to kiss you takes over him and you let him, capturing his lips for something gentle and languid. He feels you smile against him and he does the same, knowing that amidst the lust and intense yearning, the softness will remain. It’s why he pulls away first and envelopes you in a hug, finding purchase in your neck as he calms his raising heart and hardening cock that were caused by your impassioned movements. 

He hears you giggle as you hug him tight and his heart softens now, savoring that sound even more because he was without it for weeks at one point. He’s also learned that days without your laugh and your smile are the hardest; he knows he’ll be lost in this world without them. 

You pull away now and kiss his cheek this time, and you feel him smile again at the action. With all his cheekiness, Jungkook is everything that is love at his core. He gives and takes as he should, and it may seem odd that such thoughts are what’s swirling in your mind as you’re both dancing together at a club with people making out and grinding against each other around you, but you’ve come to learn that regardless of happening outside or inside of you, he’s the only one you want to share your little world with. 

He takes your hand and leads you back to your table where your friends gather shortly after. He orders coffee while you settle for tea, knowing you’d be too tired to make one before you sleep. It’s more laughter and dancing in your seats for another hour or so before you and Jungkook decide to head home as guests start to leave as well. 

You didn’t expect to be out until 2AM but you kept thinking that one day, you’ll be too old for this; one day, you’ll have kids to care for that you won’t have much time for nights out with your friends. You savor what you’re able to as a young married couple before children get in the picture, and as you watch Jungkook in the driver seat with his tattooed arm on the steering wheel, humming to the music while saying that he had a great time, you assume that he thinks the same way.

“Yeah, tonight was fun,” you muse. “We let go of ourselves a little bit and that was nice.”

“It was. You had your hands on me for most of the night so that was good,” he teases. 

“I had to make a statement myself. Don’t think I didn’t see those two women who kept eyeing you and constantly passing by our table,” you huff. 

“I didn’t even notice,” he hums. “I was too busy looking at you. But was that really it? You were just letting them know that I’m your man and they have no chance?”

“Of course not,” you giggle, taking his free hand and kissing it. “This look is really doing something to me. Maybe I’ll start asking you to wear this at home or something.”

Jungkook laughs at your words, his head briefly rolling back before he turns to you with his scrunched nose. “I wouldn’t mind that, actually.”

There’s a moment of silence, with you caressing his hand that’s found its place on your bare thigh, before you comment that he didn’t drink much tonight, knowing that their trio of best friends enjoy their alcohol when they’re out to party.

“I could’ve driven us back home, you know?” You say. “We haven’t gone out like this in a while so it would’ve been okay if you drank.”

“Yeah but… we’re trying to get pregnant and the doctor said that alcohol consumption affects sperm health, too,” he responds, his eyes looking soft as he glances at you. “I don’t want you to be the only one cutting back on things because we’re doing this together. I mean, that cup of coffee back there was only my second one of the day. I’ve been trying to limit myself to just two a day as well since I know you’re drinking less, and I survived the week.”

“Honey…” you say, your heart melting at the thought of him making sure that you’re not doing this all on your own. 

This is just the trying phase, and if he’s committed to the pregnancy this early on, you can just imagine how present and supportive he’ll be when you do get pregnant. He’ll make sure you’re not the only one making sacrifices, and he’ll make sure to give you as much comfort and support as possible. 

“And also, I’m gonna have to change my lifestyle eventually for, you know, when we have our child,” he continues. “I can’t be going out, drinking, and then driving because who knows what could happen? Plus, I don’t wanna kiss our baby with alcohol breath when I get home. And I—”

“Kook, you can still do the things you used to do even when we have a child,” you interrupt. “I mean, you can still party and drink and—”

“I can’t be reckless, though, and that’s what I was for a long time,” he counters. “I was also pretty selfish and always wanted things my way. Being with you changed that and yeah, parenthood will change me, but I should at least be good enough to begin with.”

“And you are, honey; more than enough, actually. I mean, we’ve been to the doctor twice and you already took what she said to heart,” you assure him. “I just know you’re gonna be great, okay? And this is my unfiltered mind speaking but I’m kinda excited to get pregnant because of how sweet and loving and… hot you’re gonna be when you take care of me.”

It’s that laugh again, his playful and endearing laughter that triggers the butterflies in your stomach. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle under the dim streetlights that you pass by, and the way he looks at you makes you feel like everything good is at your reach while it’s just the two of you in your own world. 

“I’m excited for you to get pregnant because of how loving and needy and strong and fucking sexy you’re gonna be,” he says, earning him a chuckle. “But all that aside, I just want you to know that you have me. I’m obviously here for the actual baby-making but also for the massages and cravings and morning sickness and swollen everything, okay? I promise.”

“You are such a dream, Jeon Jungkook,” you giggle as you gaze at him lovingly. “I’d live through a thousand lifetimes just so I can have this one where I married you.”

He’s left speechless now, as he softly smiles and leans over at the stoplight for a gentle kiss on your lips. You think it’s enough for him to say all the things he can’t, and you kiss him back, a little more deeply, to say the things you still don’t have words for.

The rest of the ride back home is quiet, save for Jungkook’s humming along to the songs on his playlist. You’re both giggling over something silly that happened earlier by the time you’re walking back to the apartment, and taking advantage of the late hours and the empty elevators, your husband softly kisses your neck with his arms wrapped around your waist all the way to your floor. You sigh in relief; his lips are as good as his hands when it comes to relieving your tiredness. 

There were some issues you encountered in your project at the firm that you had to manage, on top of helping Taehyung with his art gallery launch. Teaching the kids is not really stressful, but handling classes of 10 children each has its own challenges. You know your body and you’re perfectly fine, which is why you didn’t mind staying up late with your friends tonight. You’d missed out on a few nights out because you opted to rest, but tonight was too important to pass up on. But still, it left you just a tiny bit exhausted and you can’t wait for your warm bath and cuddles with Jungkook. 

You pause on the idea once your phone beeps and a notification pops up. Suddenly your heart is racing, and you’re left standing in the middle of your living room as Jungkook turns off the lights and says that he’ll massage you as you both take your bath. 

Seeing you unmoving when he expected you to be walking up the stairs, he asks if everything’s okay.

“Yeah, it’s just…” you say, turning to him with a small smile on your face. “I just got notified. My, uh, my tracker says I ovulate in a few days so, uh… My fertile window starts now.”

It takes a few seconds for Jungkook to process the information and once it clicks, he walks towards you and mirrors your smile. 

Dr. Han explained in detail how things go, and Jungkook remembers that in non-technical words, having sex during your fertile window is the best way to get pregnant, and since everything is an estimate and no means of tracking can be entirely accurate, what he he really took from that session is that having sex everyday increases your chance of conceiving. The thought turns his soft smile into a smirk, and with his eyes boring into yours, he repeats your words.

“Your window starts now,” he says, earning him a nod. “I’m fertile, too,” he adds. 

You chuckle at his statement. “I know, Kook. Of course you are,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

But his gaze doesn’t falter, as he cups your cheek and takes you in.

“Do you think the bath and massage can wait?” He asks, his voice suddenly low.

“They can,” you respond, feeling your throat drying up.

“You’re not too tired?”

“Not anymore,” you answer, melting into his touch, especially as his breath starts to quicken.

“Good,” he breathes out, his mouth so close to yours. 

Your noses touch before you feel his lips, soft yet wanting at the thought of being able to make love to you tonight, knowing there’s a chance that it could result in a baby that you’ve both been wanting. You grant him the entrance that he seeks, and he’s quick to explore as your tongue melds with his. He’s intentional, with both his hands cradling your face, wanting to say so much with this kiss. You return it just as eagerly, and your hands do what they’ve been wanting to since earlier in the night - they slide down his clothed chest, and then his torso, until they reach his crotch where you palm his hardening dick, letting him know that you want this just as much. 

He moves to place open-mouth kisses down your neck, and you moan when he sucks that sensitive part of yours at the same time that you squeeze his length, earning you a groan that sends shivers down your spine.

“Can I claim my seat now,” you tease, wanting nothing more than to ride him until you lose your breath, knowing just how much pleasure that position gives you both. 

“Fuck yes, babe,” he growls, kissing you again as he starts walking back, letting you guide him towards the couch that’s experienced its fair share of your lovemaking.    

He pulls away to settle on his seat, his eyes not moving away from you as he asks you to undress yourself, leaving you in nothing but your silk thong.

With his legs spread slightly wide, the leather material hugging his thick, meaty thighs, and his arms laid over the back of the couch, you can’t help but moan at the sight. Your seat looks pretty comfortable, even more so when he unzips his trousers to reveal his hardened length, big and veiny for you to slide against and down on. 

He’s coaxing you, as he touches himself to get you to come closer, knowing just how much this turns you on. You surprise him, though, when you get on your knees instead and take his cock from his hand, as if showing him that you can do it better. And of course you do; your touch electrifies him, it makes him weak and pliant, it makes him give in to whatever you want. He’s a generally impatient guy, but when it comes to you, he forces himself to have self-control, to wait, to let you take your time, only because he knows how satisfying it is once you give him what he craves. 

A few gentle and teasing strokes later, you take him in your mouth and you surprise him again, as you dive in and take him deep right away, unlike your usual gradual descent that’s every bit torturous and euphoric. He’s caught off guard but it’s what causes him to obscenely moan, prompting you to do the same, the vibrations sending him close to the edge. But you keep going, bopping your head up and down as you try to fit him in your mouth, and Jungkook has to gather all his strength to not falter this quickly. There’s so many other ways he wants to feel you.

Knowing he’ll come soon if you don’t stop, he cups your cheek to get your attention. The loving way you look at him is a contrast to how ruined he feels, and just as he thinks you’d chase his finger with your mouth and suck it as well, you kiss his hand instead, tracing your lips up to his tattooed arm and it’s moments like this that make him feel alive. He’s always loved chasing a high, living for the thrill and the unexpected that pushes him to try different things, and he’s somehow found that when making love to you. You could look at him shyly, reverently, or sultrily; you can lick your lips or say vulgar things or giggle sweetly - he won’t know what he’ll get, but he’ll lose his mind either way. 

Wanting to satiate his need, he finally pulls you to sit on his lap, capturing your mouth in his that leaves no room for either of you to breathe. Flushed against his clothed chest, you wrap your arms around his neck to try to take in as much of him as you can. You grind against his throbbing cock, and the friction isn’t enough, as you raise yourself to slide down on him, and your joint moans fill the room.

It starts slow but you eventually pick up the pace, and it prompts him to remove his trousers that are now definitely limiting his movements. Once he’s free, he focuses on what he can give. Jungkook pulls you down as he pushes inside of you, the quick and erratic thrusts sending you in a whole other dimension. You’re meeting his movements, your pants turning into squeals as you feel him so deep inside you, hitting the edges of your physical being. 

You lose it when he grips your ass to keep you in place and then captures your breast in his mouth for him to suck. You feel the pleasure all over your body; it’s overwhelming and all-consuming - you feel him everywhere, and it’s exactly how you want to be made love to. 

It’s the succeeding thrusts and the bite of the sensitive part of your neck that has you mewling and arching your back in intense pleasure and you feel like you’ve lost sense for a moment, as if you’re suspended with how deep and rough he’d gone. It’s almost numbing, as you continue to grind against him as you try to catch your breath but despite the overstimulation, you can’t get enough of it, of him. You came hard but you want more. 

You kiss him as you come down from your high and he takes you in, moaning as your mouths meet again. It’s different this time, though - the kiss is desperate, it feels like; there’s the usual passion but a different kind of yearning, of eagerness. Devotion, too, it seems - towards you, towards the future child you’ll have, towards the family you’ll build - as he caresses your back, his hands gliding on your skin before clutching onto you, as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your neck, repeating it like a chant that devotees do to a being they revere. “I love you, fuck baby. I love all of you.”

“I love you, Kook, so much,” you pant, hugging him loosely, as it’s the only thing you have energy to do at this moment. 

His arms are wrapped around your waist and he leans to kiss you there, his mouth seemingly unable to separate from any part of you. 

You meet his eyes and you just know that you mirror the way he’s fondly looking at you. Jungkook boops your nose before he gently lays you on the couch, his eyes unmoving from your form as he kneels before you to remove his shirt, his perfectly-crafted torso making you salivate even more. 

Spreading your legs, he dives in your cunt, licking your lips before he sucks your clit. You still haven’t recovered from earlier but you don’t mind. You’re still somewhat in a daze, and everything Jungkook does is both mind blowing and calming, intense yet numbing. Your leg starts to shake so he stops but you don’t complain. Just like him it seems, you want this drawn out. 

“I want you inside me, baby,” you moan. “I want… I want to feel you all over me again. Please,” you beg. “I need you.”

The way you plead does things to him, so he lays by your side, slides inside you from behind, and takes you into his hold. With your body shifted and your legs raised, he cups your breast and sucks on your neck, as if cradling you while making you feel all of him - his mouth, his dick, his fingers… He’s thrusting against you so hard that you’re screaming in pleasure, asking him not to stop, and moaning out his name. You lose control of your limbs and you feel like your body now has a mind of its own but his kiss grounds you, and you hold onto him tightly for anchor as he does the same with you. 

You come again - another hard crash - and he follows soon after, abrupt and drawn out that he feels like he’s suspended as well. He stays inside you, wanting to make sure that nothing of him is wasted. 

You’re both panting from tiredness, your damp foreheads against each other, and it’s nothing but your warm breaths and slick bodies that you feel. You can’t really feel anything else, and that warm bath sounds good right about now.

Jungkook seems to read your mind, as he pulls away first and grabs your clothes. He reaches out his hand that you take, and he holds you close to him as you both walk up the stairs and into your bathroom. 

You both don’t say much; the smiles and the soft kisses on the cheek seem to say enough. Maybe you’re just both really spent, but Jungkook exerting all that effort on you does not stop him from drawing your bath, sitting opposite you, and then massaging your feet and calves. He asks you to sit in between his legs right after so he can massage your shoulders, too, and the sigh you let out tells him you’re satisfied with his as well. 

“That good, baby?” He still asks, and you lazily smile at him and nod.

“You might fall asleep here,” he chuckles, pulling you closer to him so he can nuzzle your neck. 

“I wouldn’t mind that, as long as you sleep here with me,” you hum.

“Our tub is big but it isn’t that big,” he laughs again. “Come on, I’ll wash us up.”

You follow him and head to the shower where he promptly rinses the suds off your hair and your body. He’s gentle and thorough; charming, too, as his boyish smiles appear again when he sees you look satisfied. He helps you dress up before you both head to your room, your soft linens feeling like clouds after all that you did. 

Jungkook goes under the covers and lays his head on your chest like he often does. Tired as you are, you don’t want to sleep yet, needing to have this moment with him first. 

He’s rarely quiet, so when he is, you know something’s on his mind. You comb your fingers through his hair to calm him down; massaging him like this is also your way of letting him know that can say whatever he wants, and express whatever he wants.

“Do you think we did it?” He finally asks, sounding soft and unsure. “Do you think that was it?”

With his hand caressing your belly, you feel his anxiousness and his desire.

“I don’t know, honey,” you reply. “These things are never accurate. I’m just glad my cycle’s finally regular so at least I can better estimate when I’m due to ovulate and we can work from there. Maybe we did it. Maybe we didn’t. We won't know until I show symptoms and I take a test. And that’s weeks from now.”

The silence isn’t uncomfortable despite what seems to be a million things running through his mind. You’ve wanted this for so long but you’ve learned to be patient, to be trusting, to be accepting of whatever happens. You’d like to think that for all that you went through and for all the good that you’ve done in this life, the universe will grant you this wish. But you don’t want to think too much of how much you want it. You’re scared to be disappointed; more importantly, you’re scared to disappoint him.

“I want this so much,” he says, his voice low and desperate. “I… I knew I did but I didn’t know just how much until the other month when… when we had a false alarm.”

You recall that day. It was some time after you’d come back from Busan, the conversations from that trip perhaps clouding your mind, the excitement overtaking you that you’d thought you could be pregnant despite the minimal signs. 

But you took the test anyway. It was negative, and Jungkook hugged you and said it was okay. You’d only gone to the doctor once that time, and you were both still adjusting and making changes in your respective lifestyles. He didn’t seem upset; he comforted you, cradled you that night, and made love to you softly as he whispered how perfect you are, and how much he loves you. 

“I… I didn’t want to show it but it made me sad that it didn’t happen then,” he continues. “And I guess it hit me exactly how much I wanted it. To be able to create someone who’s half of the person I love the most and half of me… that’s amazing, right? I just suddenly couldn’t wait to give all my love to that child; I couldn’t wait for us to be gifted that.”

You’re unable to form words as you listen to him. It takes you back to the time when he didn’t want to have children yet, content with just the both of you and your little adventures and time alone. Jungkook wanted you all to himself, and he wanted him to be the only one you focused on. He’d hated himself for being selfish, but you suppose you both needed to have that time for each other - to learn, to love, to fight, to forgive, to trust, and then to love even harder, even braver, even kinder. 

“It’ll happen, Kook,” is all you can say. “One day, it will. I’d like to believe that it’s meant for us, just as you and I were meant for each other after all these years.”

“I don’t want to think that I wasted so much of our time just because I wanted it to be just us,” he admits. “But sometimes, that fills my mind. What if we had tried earlier?”

“Do you think that helps? Thinking of the what if’s?”

“I know it doesn’t,” he responds. “But I guess the fear pushes me somehow, you know? I could be living a different life where I don’t have all this, and so I want to make sure that I take care of all that I have now - you, this marriage, this home. It’s ironic that I’ve always wanted to live my life without fear, only to realize now that fears could be good, too, that having something you’re afraid of means you’re actually living, because then, something’s good enough to lose.”

“And that something is so good that you can’t not have it,” you add. 

He looks up at you with an assuring smile, knowing that you feel what he’s feeling, that you understand what’s bothering him. 

“I worry, too,” you continue. “I knew when I’d fallen in love with you that I wanted a family, to have a child that bears both of us, you know? Someone who can receive the overflowing love I have for you. And not having that scares me.”

With your words, Jungkook shifts himself to face you, cradling you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

“You see what you did right there?” You ask him.

“What?”

“I tell you I’m scared, and the first thing you do is hold me,” you say, feeling the emotions overtake you. “We’re each other’s fears. I’m afraid to lose you. I worry when you’re in pain or stressed or confused or unwell. And I know it’s the same with you. But we’re each other’s shields, too. We protect each other, we gain strength from each other. That’s how we’ll get through this. That’s how we’ll get through anything. I’ll hold you when you’re scared and you’ll take me in your arms just the same. The fears are bearable that way.”

“They are,” he whispers, kissing you deeply. “We’re all we need, baby. You’re all I need.”

With your entangled limbs under the covers, you and Jungkook breathe each other in. 

“I don’t know if we were successful tonight,” you hum, slowly succumbing to sleep. “We can always try again tomorrow.”

“And the day after. And the day after that. And then after that,” he responds, his cheeky smile making a sleepy appearance. “We can try everyday. We’ll make it happen; we’ll hold each other again if it doesn’t.”

“We will,” you answer. “We always will.”

Jungkook kisses your nose then your forehead, but it’s his pecks on your cheek that fully wake you up from an incredible slumber. It felt long and it was exactly what you needed after a night of partying and fucking your gorgeous husband, who happens to be smiling sweetly at you right now with his doe-eyes and semi-mussed hair.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he giggles. “I was wondering when you were gonna wake up.”

“What time is it?” You grumble, stretching your limbs and feeling the tension slightly dissipate. 

“Almost 1.”

“Seriously?” You gasp. “I’ve never woken up this late.”

“I know. I was kinda getting worried,” he chuckles. “But then again, we did sleep around 4:30 AM so it’s fine.”

“What did you do to me, honey,” you laugh now.

“Well, you know, the usual,” he teases. “And I’m not done with you yet. I promised you days of this.”

He sneaks his hand in between your thighs and presses lightly against your cunt, earning him a low moan. 

“Hmm, you did,” you hum. “But I’d really love a hug right now.”

With your outstretched arms, Jungkook melts into your hold, burying his face into your neck like he loves to do. You smell of peony and vanilla; you feel soft and comfortable and every beautiful thing in the world. He’d live right here if he could. 

But it’s the middle of the day and you’ve already missed your morning medication.

“I love this but babe, you need to eat so you can take your medicine,” he says, pulling away now. “I bought us some lunch so can you please wash up already?”

“Fine, Mr.,” you playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll be down in a bit. I’ll see you there.”

You walk into the kitchen with Jungkook humming to a song and shaking his hips while he transfers the stew from the pot into a big bowl. He places that on the dining table before taking the heated rice from the microwave. Dressed in sweatpants and a tank top under a loose zip-up hoodie that lets his shoulder tattoos peek out - a weakness of yours, you’ve learned - he looks like the perfect husband who’s sexy in every way. 

You’ve noticed these past weeks how he’s been more keen on getting chores done. You’ve always divided the tasks but recently, he’s taking more initiative - planning meals, listing grocery items, and scheduling laundry day. Those are things you think about on a daily basis because managing a household is tough work; you can’t help but think that he’s started taking some of the load from you, perhaps in preparation for when you get pregnant, and especially when a little one joins your family. 

The thought makes you smile. It’s why when he tells you that the food’s ready and pulls out your chair, you sit on his lap instead, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your face in there as well. 

“Thank you, Kook,” you huff. “It smells good.”

“It does. Too bad I didn’t cook it,” he chuckles, returning your hug.

“I know. You don’t have the patience for that.”

He tickles you in response but you just hug him more tightly.

“Hey, I know I turn you on when I’m being a dreamy househusband, but the food will get cold,” he says, turning to face you now, a rare sight indeed since he’s often the hard-headed and pouty one. “Let us eat this first, and then I can eat you out after. Deal?”

You bite his cheek in feigned annoyance before you move to your chair, taking in the dish in front of you. 

“What time did you buy this?” You ask, realizing only after the first spoonful just how hungry you are, reminding you of a certain physical activity you both did just hours ago.

“Hmm, around 10,” he answers. “I was up at 8 and was gonna drink milk only to find out that we don’t have any. So I went to the supermarket and got eggs and a few other things, too. Then I passed by the restaurant on the way home.”

“Dreamy househusband indeed,” you wink at him. “But how were you up that early after last night?”

“Taehyung, that annoying child,” Jungkook groans. “He kept calling and texting so I just picked up. He woke up early and couldn’t find his engagement ring for Ailee, and he doesn’t know if he lost it or if he proposed to her but he doesn’t remember anything because he was so drunk. And she was called for an emergency at work so he couldn't find out. He also doesn’t wanna ask her himself so I said I’d ask her if my best friend did anything stupid and well, yeah, he did propose; she just doesn’t know that he doesn’t remember.”

You’re cracking up by the end of your husband’s narration and you feel for the man. “Oh, poor Taehyung. What a terrible way to go about asking someone to marry them.”

“Well, I never actually asked you, did I?” Jungkook says. 

“Well, you kinda didn’t want to, did you?” you shoot back, earning you an adorable frown. 

Appeasing him, you take his hand and kiss it. “It doesn’t matter. We said I do, you kissed me for a millisecond, and then here we are!”

“Baby!” He groans again. “Why are you bringing up the wedding kiss, AKA the most embarrassing kiss of my life?”

“Because so-called loverboy Jungkook kissed his bride for a millisecond, that’s why,” you laugh. 

“I did make up for it, though,” he reminds you. “And I still do. I mean, you can’t seem to get enough of my kisses now.”

“You’re getting cockier and cockier by the year, honey,” you tease. “Even if, yes, you are absolutely correct. I can’t imagine living without your kisses.”

“Good. Because these lips can’t imagine not kissing you,” he smirks, and all you can do is cover your face in laughter and slight embarrassment, but he scrunches his nose as he watches you lose it, and your heart softens again. 

He could be cheeky as much as he wants; deep down, he’ll always be that gentleman who loves making you laugh and smile. 

You both finish your meal then you take your medicine. You insist on doing the dishes this time and it doesn’t take long. You’re full from eating so you return to your seat next to Jungkook where you both video call with Taehyung and the rest of your friends as he presents his predicament.

“Just be honest with her,” you advise. “Honesty and communication are incredibly important in a marriage, Tae. Take it from me. Who knows? Maybe she doesn’t remember how it happened, either.”

“And then you can just propose to her again,” Jungkook suggests. “Seriously, dude. Being honest is probably one of the hardest things to do, but it’s freeing more than anything when you share things with your partner. It just sucks that you have to share your stupidity but yeah, she’s crazy about you so I’m sure she’ll still want to marry you.”

Taehyung rants again but decides that listening to the only married couple in your friend group is his best course of action, so he says he will and will keep everyone posted. 

Wanting to have your only caffeine intake for the day, you walk towards the counter to boil water for your tea and then walk back to Jungkook. You lean on the edge of the table as you watch him remain seated and mirror your smile. You think about what he said earlier about being honest. You’re also reminded of your conversation last night and how open and vulnerable he was. You recall the moments where he’s trusted you and followed your lead. You think back at the instances where you were the same. You’ve both come such a long way, and the thought sparks a certain kind of desire in you, something that he sees.

He reaches out his hand and you take it. He guides you to his lap where you comfortably sit, aligning your clothed cunt to his cock, anticipating the friction and what would come out of it. You kiss each other deeply, both your hands mapping each other out. He pulls down your nightgown; you unzip his jacket and sneak your hands underneath his top. He’s smooth and taut and absolutely perfect; his hardened nipples tell you that he’s just as turned on as you are. 

Rocking against his hips, he decides that he absolutely needs to taste you, so Jungkook nudges you and guides you to the table where you lay, your legs spread out to show him the view that he craves. 

His tongue is warm against your folds. He presses it against your clit before twirling it around, knowing exactly how you want this to go. You like it slow at first, with kisses on the sides and underneath your thighs where you’re sensitive, before wanting it fast, rough, and desperate, as Jungkook sucks and nibbles and locks your thighs in his arms, pulling you closer to the edge so he can bury his face in between them where he also would like to live if he could. 

It’s like he’s been starved as he leaves no inch untouched. Your legs are shaking now, your body begging for release and he feels it; he feels the tension in your limbs and hears your hypnotizing moans. These make him want you to wrap around him so he can feel your warmth, too, so he can be sucked into your velvet walls and drown in your essence. 

He pulls away then undresses himself and then you, leaving you both heaving and bare, desperate for more of your scent and your kisses and your touch and your sounds. He strokes himself a little before pulling you closer again, this time for his cock to slide inside your wet entrance, and the moan that escapes him is obscene yet full of want and yearning. 

With your legs suspended in air, he thrusts into you - slow at first, teasing even, as he draws it out before going rough and deep, sending shockwaves all over his body with how well you’re taking him, and how hard you’re letting him go as you ask for more and more and more.

His hands explore your bare torso - hands fondling your swell breasts, fingers pinching your pert nipples, and palms gripping your waist to keep you steady. You kiss each other for most of it all, adding to your pleasure but also tempering it, as your mouths capture your moans and the curses you both let out. 

“So good, baby,” you groan, your deep, sultry voice still surprising him after all this time. “You fit me so, so well.”

“I’m made for you, baby,” he growls, assaulting your neck with nibbles that have you ascending even more. “Fuck, you’re so perfect for me.”

Your cries of yes urge him further and he quickens his pace, knowing from your sounds that you’re close and his erratic thrusting says that so is he. With your chest heaving and your arms weakening from supporting your weight, you crash hard, and your elbows buckle from the intensity but he catches you, his arms cradling you before he lays your back on the table while he tries to reach his peak. 

You recover, propping one arm on the surface and the other, pulling him close to you. 

“Come for me, baby,” you whisper, licking the shell of his ear right after. “Want you to fill me up so good. Please.”

You meet his thrusts and then clench around him. It’s what does it for him, as he releases a long groan that almost makes you come another time. Your pants match his and he hugs you tightly before kissing your neck. 

He’s sweating and unsurprisingly so, but it makes him look even hotter, with the softness in his eyes turning into determination in seconds. He bites your lip before licking your mouth. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks. “Gotta cover all bases and take you from every angle, baby.” Pulling away, he releases you from his hold. “Will you turn around for me? We’ve got the rest of the day for this.”

You’re left speechless at his words but you’re eager and pliant as you’re under his spell. You turn around as he asks and the feel of his tongue on your cunt overstimulates yet electrifies you. There’s no other way you want to spend your Saturday. You know your Sunday and every day after that will be the same. But Jungkook is an amazing lover, and you know that after all the roughness, he’ll hold you gently, pepper you with soft kisses, and tell you how much he loves you so you won’t ever forget. 

It’s weeks later when you pick up the phone and make a call.

“Hey, babe,” Jungkook’s sweet voice greets you on the other end of the line. “I’m heading to McDonald’s. The meal served on the plane was so little and I’m still hungry. Do you want anything?”

“Just, uh, just fries,” you mumble, as you pace back and forth in your living room. 

“That’s all?” He asks, knowing that you always want that with a sundae. “Do you want me to get something from somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve had dinner, Kook,” you say. “But uh, do you think you can pass by the pharmacy? I… I need a pregnancy test.”

You can hear a pin drop with the silence from both your ends. But it could also probably just be your mind going blank as you vocalize the words, a request that holds with it so much as you try to think of what will happen after the result comes out. 

“Baby…” Jungkook manages to mumble.

“I didn’t realize that my period’s been late a few days,” you explain. “But the cramps have been bearable and I didn’t think much of the nausea but, maybe… I mean, there’s a chance that—”

You only ramble when you’re nervous and Jungkook can feel your anxiety even through the phone. 

“Baby,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay. Are you feeling any pain right now?”

“No… I just… Come home soon, please. I… I need to be with you.”

“I’ll be home soon. I love you.”

He drops the call and makes his order through the window, then he asks Mr. Yu to head to the nearby pharmacy where Jungkook runs to the counter for the pregnancy test and then asks his chauffeur to quickly but safely drive to you. He wants nothing more than to be with you right now and calm your nerves, and while his mind is going haywire at the thought of a possible pregnancy, he knows he needs to be the strong one; he needs to be the one to keep you both grounded, even if another false alarm will crush both your hearts.

The time is ticking by too slowly and he opts to send you messages instead, updating you of where he is and how much longer it’ll take for him to get to you, hoping that this could at least help while you wait for him to arrive. 

Back in your loft, you continue pacing around the living room. You’d been too busy with work to take note of your tracker, which is why you hadn’t realized until today that your period is late. Jungkook’s been in Japan since Thursday and took a late afternoon flight this Monday so he can get home to you right away. You know he’s worried; even with his calm voice, you know deep down he’s just as anxious as you are. You appreciate that he’s holding the fort for both of you; he probably could tell from your rambling that you’re a little out of sorts, and for good reason. 

Since deciding on actively trying to get pregnant, there’s been an air of tension about the topic even if it’s something you both openly talk about. Perhaps it’s wanting it so much that the chance of not achieving it is a heartbreaking thought. 

You remind yourself, however, that you had a go at it not long ago; you’ve been following Dr. Han’s recommendations of cutting back on things as well so the hopeful part of you thinks that there’s a big chance it could happen. Every part of you wishes it’s happy tears tonight and not sad ones. 

Your door unlocks and you stand from the couch, meeting Jungkook, who places the food on the nearby flat surface, and hugging him tightly.

“I missed you,” he hums against your hair. “You don’t have to be scared, okay? I’m with you. We’re doing this together, and whatever happens, we’ll hold each other. We promised, remember?”

“I remember,” you mumble. Facing him, you say you’ll take the test in the guest bathroom. “We’ll wait and check together, honey. I love you, whatever happens.”

“I love you, whatever happens.”  

You exit the bathroom and find him seated on the bed, his coat removed and his tie loosened. His hair is a little mussed, perhaps from constantly combing through it as a way to ease his nerves. You sit on his lap - your safe place - and hug him again, letting your joint breaths remind you that you share the anticipation and the fear and the excitement with him.

Your alarm beeps to signal that the waiting time is over, and he pulls you close for a deep kiss before you stand up, and you drown in his taste and his scent, knowing that you’ll need all forms of his comfort tonight. 

Walking together, you stand by the counter and stare at the stick that’s been turned over. He’s hugging you from behind and you pull his arms tighter around you. With a deep breath, you turn the test over again to face you, and the way that he buries his face in your neck while he whispers I love you in your ears is what makes your tears fall.

Two lines signifying your hopes and dreams of a family that you’ll love with all your imperfect heart. 

“We’re having a little one, babe,” he huffs. “We… We’re gonna be parents.”

You finally face him, your tears uncontrollable now, and all you can do is nod. 

“Yes,” you whisper. “We… we’re—”

His chest buries your cries, as you’re unable to form words at the gift that you’ve been given. His strong arms cradle you against him and it’s all you really need - just his love, for you, for the child you’ll have, for the family you’ll build. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead before kneeling down to face your belly that’s started to nurture your baby. 

“I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be so, so loved. Mommy and Daddy will make sure of that.”

There’s so much emotion, as you watch Jungkook sweetly smile at what’s now housing the most important being in this world right now. His glassy doe-eyes, small sniffles, and the way he caresses you give you a glimpse of how he’ll probably be starting now. He already looks at you with so much love and you can just imagine how much more affectionate he’d be with that little human growing inside you. He’ll be giving and showing love to two now; there’s something incredibly special about that. 

The low grumble of your stomach breaks the moment, however, but your joint laughter is welcomed, as he nuzzles your torso and kisses it in places before standing up to face you again.

“I know you said you just wanted fries but I got you that chicken and mozzarella sandwich you like and strawberry McFlurry, too,” he says, wiping away your tears. “I thought that if it was negative, you’d want to eat your sadness away, and if it was positive, you’d be so happy you’d want to eat more. It could also be that you’re just really hungry.”

“That’s a fair assessment,” you giggle. “But I had early dinner and I think the anxiety got to me. Thank you, honey. You already know what I need before I even say it.”

“I'm a certified dream husband and a dad-in-training,” he winks, making your heart soar. “But also… is it okay to feed our child… grease?”

You pinch his cheeks adoringly. “Just this once, I guess. And then it’s all healthy stuff for me starting tomorrow.”

“You mean for us,” he corrects. 

“For us,” you nod.

You both eat your unhealthy comfort food, with baby talk dominating throughout dinner, such as what you’ll name them, how you’ll tell your family and friends, and how the home setup is gonna be like. You both decide on waiting until this weekend for the announcement, wanting to go to the doctor first and just savoring this moment between the both of you. You’ll eventually transform Jungkook’s office space in your room to a nursery and contact Hoseok to look for houses that you’ll move into after you give birth. 

Jungkook asks you to have a shower with him, admitting that he feels quite clingy given the news. You don’t mind at all, especially when he hugs you from behind under the warm water and caresses your stomach again while he languidly kisses your lips.

He makes love to you once you’re in bed. 

It’s different from what you’d both done during your “baby-making week,” as he liked to call it, when he took you on different surfaces and on different angles all over your apartment. You’d even done it in the car in your building’s basement parking because he wanted to “cover all bases,” although you know he just wanted an excuse because that reckless part of him just liked the thrill of fucking you in a not-so-private space. You loved every bit of that week though, and even the days that followed, where despite his late nights, early mornings, and business trips, he made sure to express his love in different ways. 

But tonight, he takes it slow and simple, as he gently yet purposefully pushes into you while he looks into your eyes with so much adoration. He intertwines his fingers with yours, filling all your spaces, and cups your cheek while he whispers words of love and praise. 

It’s a gradual buildup and perhaps it’s why your orgasm is drawn out as well. It’s a different kind of pleasure, as you feel suspended in air while being pulled down before the acceleration comes when he sucks your breast, as if you’re orgasming again while coming down from it. But it’s Jungkook - some days he’s rough and teasing; sometimes he’s gentle and serious. 

Everyday it’s love though. Whatever form or pace it is, it’s the only love you want to know.

It’s tough keeping news as big as your pregnancy from your family and friends, but you and Jungkook wanted to consult with the doctor first so you can answer their questions because you know that there’ll be many of them, including when you’re due. It’s why you canceled dinner with the girls that Wednesday and why you passed up on lunch with your siblings that Friday. 

You made it to Saturday, where you and Jungkook offered to host your monthly hangouts with all your friends in your apartment and then casually said over dinner that you’re pregnant. It was silent for a good minute before they burst into screams. 

Nari and Jimin cried, which you didn’t expect. Taehyung burst into an opera-like song to express his emotions, Yeji was taking a video of the chaos, and Minhyuk was the only sane one who hugged you tightly and said that your child will be so lucky to have a set of crazy and loving uncles and aunties who will spoil them to no end.

It’s Sunday now, and it just so happens that your and Jungkook’s grandparents are in town to attend a gala this week. 

Enjoying your lunch in the indoor dining hall of your parents’ estate, the scene is a common one - lavish dishes on the table that Seokjin chows down while little  Seungjun sits on his lap, Soojin announcing that she scored 3 goals in their recent soccer game and that her twin brother Sunghoon placed first in their school’s poetry-writing contest, big boy Jihoon feeding his little sister, and the rest of the adults talking to each other from across the table, leaving the room abuzz with laughter and squeals. 

Your grandfather asks everyone to quiet down, wanting to hear how everyone’s doing, even if he’s really just looking at you and Jungkook.

“And how about both of you, my dear?” He asks. “How have things been since your visit to Busan?”

“We’ve been well,” you reply, immediately taking Jungkook’s hand. You don’t really have a plan of how you’ll tell everyone; just like how things have always been, you just want it simple. The news is a big deal, but you don’t want anything grand when it comes to announcing it. “We’re both busy with work but we’ve been making time for each other.”

“And your health?” Your grandmother asks. 

“Back to normal. The new medication has been good so I think I’m all clear,” you smile. 

“That’s wonderful,” your grandfather replies, pausing a bit, perhaps to let you continue should there be more you want to say.

You can tell he’s trying to control himself from asking something else; it’s not lost on you that your grandparents have been very vocal about their desire for you and Jungkook to have a child, considering that, in their words, they “don’t have much time left on earth.” You feel for them. This union was a dream and you hadn’t realized until the car ride this morning just how much a child would mean to them. 

Your grandfather turns to Seoyeon, ready to ask her this time but you get ahead of him.

“Actually, I’m not really back to normal,” you say, earning you worried looks from everyone. “I actually… Uh, you see. I… We—”

“We’re pregnant,” Jungkook finishes for you. You nudge him at the sudden announcement but he just chuckles. “You were rambling.”

“I…” You turn to look at your family who are all wide-eyed, perhaps still processing the words - except for the kids, of course, who are all still munching on their food, with Soojin asking why everyone is so quiet.

“Jungkook and I are expecting,” you say now, more calmly and more certain. “I’m due in the summer and we’re really excited. And nervous. But we can’t wait to meet our little one soon. And—”

The emotions overflow at this moment - both your parents and siblings are all teary-eyed, expressing their joy and excitement in so many ways. Your mother walks to you for a tight hug, and your father does the same to Jungkook until you’re hugging each member of both of your families - with your grandparents taking most of the time - including the kids who just follow what the adults are doing. 

Soojin squeals when you explain in kid language what’s happening, prompting her to hug your belly then remarking that you look the same.

“Your Auntie’s belly will grow big soon,” Jungkook says, rubbing your stomach. “Can I ask all of you to take care of her with me?” He asks the little ones now, kneeling in front of them and mirroring their adorable smiles. 

“Yes, Uncle Kookie!” They say in unison, prompting you to kneel alongside him and hugging each of the kids.

Their kisses are long and sweet. They’re much older now so they feel more responsibility when it comes to you and the baby, so they ask a lot of questions like how big they are right now, what they’re eating, and how they’ll come out of your belly. You answer each question, trying to explain as simply as you can with all the patience in the world.

Jungkook watches you, knowing that this - and all the times that you’re with them - is just a peek of how you’ll be as a mother. And he can’t wait to witness and experience all that with you. There’s so much to be excited about; he knows every moment now is precious and one you both will have to savor.

You return to your seat once everyone’s recovered, even if your mother is still crying and your grandparents still have glassy eyes.

“I know it took a while,” you say. “But Kook and I just wanted to make sure that we were having this child for our own reasons. And well, considering how we started, we wanted to enjoy ourselves first and not feel like we’re missing out on things.”

“And that’s alright, sweetheart,” Jungkook’s grandmother assures you. “We’re just glad that this happened on your own terms this time.”

“It did,” Jungkook answers. “We had a lot of growing up to do but uh, that won’t stop. I… I’ll still need help.”

“You have us,” Junghyun says now. “Min-jun, Seokjin, and I will do the big brother thing and guide you, Kook. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Seoyeon winks at you to say that you have her, Yeri, and Mina as well. You and Jungkook have such amazing people to guide you and that you look up to; you can’t wait to get to know yourself and each other in this aspect as well. 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with your parents and grandparents talking to you and Jungkook, expressing their joy and hope that everything will all be okay. Your siblings pull you both aside to talk about the next steps from parenting sessions, prenatal yoga, house hunting, and everything in between. They make it all exciting, knowing that the worries will come and go, and you appreciate them all for that. 

Later that night, you lay in bed while Jungkook stays by your side, propped up with one arm while his hand caresses your stomach once more, something he’s been doing every night before you both sleep. 

“Today was good,” you say, as you place your hand over his, caressing the fingers that wander around your bare skin. “It somehow reminded me of that lunch when they proposed this marriage and now look where we are. We’ve come such a long way, Kook. I’m glad we can finally share the joy with them.” 

Jungkook responds with a hum, his eyes glued to your stomach, traces of deep thoughts in them.

“What are you thinking about, honey?” You ask, cupping his cheek. He closes his eyes briefly to savor your touch.

“Just… everything, I guess,” he huffs. “Everyone said so many things. My brother even sent me a long text that I still have to respond to. But I was thinking about the kids. They’re still a rowdy bunch but they’re so good to each other, babe. They’re so good to people. And they have such affection towards their parents. I… I want that for our child. I want them to be good to others, to be loving to others. I want them to love us.”

“Honey, they will,” you smile, “because we’re raising them. You have such a big heart, Kook. I just know that’ll be enough to make them kind and loving people.”

“I just… I just want to be a good dad,” he admits, revealing another layer of his vulnerability. “I want them to have fun with me, to trust that I’ll protect them always. I want to be someone they’ll be proud of; I want them to be happy that I’m their father. I want to do right by them, by you.”

“I bet as they grow up, they’ll want to do the same with you. That’s how loved they’ll feel,” you say, turning to your side so you can face him and he can focus only on you. “You’re already doing amazing, honey. They’ll feel how much you love them by how much you love me. And you love me so beautifully. That makes all the difference.” 

“Thank you for making me so happy,” he responds after a beat of silence, his heartfelt words piercing through you. “I didn’t think I could feel more for you than I already do.”

“Me, too,” you smile, kissing him deeply. “We’re gonna be okay. Things will start to change but I want you to know that I’ll love you through it all, okay?”

“And I’ll love you through it all just the same,” he kisses your forehead now. 

With you cradled in Jungkook’s arms as you listen to his steadying heartbeat and soft snores, you know that however hard this journey is gonna be, he’ll hold you no matter what, and you’ll be strong for each other through it all.

Series Masterlist

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[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride! Jim & Spock? Can be in the Sybokverse or on their own eitherway is perfect!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

“I believe I have the right to face my accuser.”

Jim is going to tear this asshole apart.

There’s muttering throughout the crowd, the auditorium filled to the brim for one cadet’s academic dishonesty disciplinary hearing. These are always open to be attended by the accused’s peers, but usually no one bothers, having far better things to do on a Friday morning. Jim is flattered, honestly.

Admiral Archer nods and everyone turns as one of the instructors stands and walks stiffly to the other podium.

Jim is honestly taken aback. A Vulcan giving him shit over this? He squints, trying to place him, suddenly sure he’s seen him somewhere before. Possibly just in the halls, but the familiarity feels deeper than that. He’s met a lot of Vulcans, to be fair.

“Cadet,” he greets.

“Defend the logic of your accusation,” he says, falling into familiar vernacular and only barely keeping himself from saying it in formal Vulcan. This guy might appreciate it, but Archer won’t, and Chris had told him not to be too much of an asshole.

The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. “The purpose of the test is to assess your response to no win scenarios. Altering the parameters, while admittedly an impressive feat of programming, shows both your lack of understanding and your casual disregard for the institution of Starfleet.”

“I don’t believe in no win scenarios,” he says confidently, flashing a smile to the assembled admirals that, in different circumstances, tends to get him laid.

He stiffens. “Your belief in them does not change their existence. In an impossible situation, you must react to the circumstances given to you. Anything else is entertaining delusions.”

“Bullshit,” Jim says immediately and sees Chris pinch the bridge of his nose. Oops. This is a perfect time to go into the speech that he has prepared, about how if he was actually trying to cheat he would have been more subtle about it, about how cheating was his answer to the question presented by the test, and how that applies to how he would really react as a captain.

But then the Vulcan gives him the bitchiest look he’s seen in – well, about four days, but he’s suddenly so sure where he knows him from.

~

Spock doesn’t understand how someone with so little regard for both etiquette and moral standards has survived this long in the academy. He’s intimately familiar with the doors that having a famous father can open, but surely there must be limits.

James Kirk opens his mouth, presumably to continue his insulting and inappropriate defense of his actions, then his eyes narrow, widen, and he demands, “Spock? S'Chn T'Gai Spock? Son of Amanda Grayson and S'Chn T'Gai Sarek?”

For a moment, all he can do is stare. “Have we met?”

His syntax when first faced with him had made him think that James Kirk was familiar with Vulcan, as unlikely as that seemed, but now he’s sure. Not only because of the correct pronunciation of his family name, but in how he has addressed him. Vulcan society is matriarchal. It is correct to identify him first as his mother’s son, and also appropriate to leave off his father’s title as ambassador when identifying his family origin, as his father’s position is supposed to be secondary to his mother’s. His mother married into his father’s clan, but that doesn’t change formal conventions.

Even on Vulcan, he is rarely identified correctly.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” James Kirk says, then takes out his communicator and starts typing.

What.

“Cadet Kirk!” Admiral Archer barks. “Put that away and comport yourself as your position demands or we’ll be here for more than accusations of your cheating.”

“Apologies, Admiral,” James Kirk says, placing his hands behind his back and looking like he’s taking this seriously for the first time. “If you’ll just allow a couple minutes-”

Spock’s communicator goes off.

“Commander,” Admiral Archer says warningly.

“One moment, please,” he says, his stomach rolling as he takes out the communicator. He’s hoping that this is another of James Kirk’s tricks, because when he’s placed it on silent only his family can contact him, and his mother marks all of her correspondence as non urgent. There is no good reason for his father to contact him.

He opens it up and blinks twice, to be certain of what he’s seeing.

Sybok has sent him a text base message. His elder brother never sends him text based communication, as he believes that Spock will not respond timely or authentically, and so only video calls him. Usually at inopportune times.

stop being mean to jimmy :(

He is a genius. Several things suddenly make sense all at once.

He is of course aware of his older brother’s dear friend who he only refers to as Jimmy. In the tragedy of Tarsus IV, when all should have been lost and the corrupt governor threatened to kill half the colony and did kill a not insignificant amount of them, it was Jimmy and Sybok who worked together to create a sort of resistance and keep people alive long enough to for their jury-rigged signal to make it through.

Receiving that strange message from Sybok after years of silence had let him, and their father, know that something was wrong and alert Starfleet.

Jimmy, who had been a minor at the time, and so his identity had been kept from the public at his request, and who had visited Sybok on Vulcan but Spock had examinations at the time and had not been permitted to travel across planet to meet him.

James Kirk looks at him, a smile hovering around the corners of his lips.

James Kirk. Colloquially known as Jim. Jimmy.

Spock had designed the Kobayashi Maru with his brother’s experience at Tarsus IV in mind. He had been different after, just as prone to arguing with their father, more prone to arguing with everyone else, but he’d been sturdier too. As if that experience had at once confirmed and destroyed all of his worst expectations of people.

James Kirk does not believe in no win scenarios and he has demonstrated that more aptly than any simulation could.

“I rescind my accusation of academic dishonesty towards Cadet Kirk.”

[extremely-judgemental]

Cassian is ugly and his arc is messier. The more you look into his past and his chemistry/dynamic with other characters, his behaviour doesn’t corroborate with his words, and it becomes harder to see him as the goofy, sunshine guy SJM wants us to believe.

(response to this by @flat-neines. I agree with everything you pointed out and I didn’t want to hijack your post, so here we are. This has been in my drafts for months and I didn’t have the mental capacity to put them in a coherent order, and it’s a LOT (also because I didn’t want to dedicate another post to this mf, really). So, have an open mind and take it with a grain of salt. If anyone doesn’t want another long rant, you should read that one lol.)

Cassian is devoted to Rhysand.

For a bastard who’s constantly dismissed in his life, Rhysand is the first one to give him the validation he craves. Of all the boys, he was the chosen one and his life turned around when he was basically adopted (I’m not gonna repeat this again, you can read it here). Because of this, he is more loyal to Rhysand than his people, his title, his armies, or even his court.

Cassian doesn’t see Azriel as his equal.

He’s been enjoying this new life for a whole year and only befriends Rhysand after Azriel comes into the picture. They both are bastards. They both are underprivileged. Cassian’s unwarranted aggression towards an already abused boy, who doesn’t know how to fly or fight, outside their training can imply that he saw him as a threat to his status with Rhysand. So, he put him in his place.

There are two other instances where his sense of superiority comes through. First, in the dinner scene in MAF where he boasts about giving Azriel hell and he doesn’t hesitate to share about his captivity. There’s no emotional cue in the conversation that indicates he truly feels bad for either of those. Morrigan has to interrupt the guy who is supposedly emotionally so capable of reading the room that he gets Feyre’s trauma during their training better than anyone and ‘knows’ what Nesta needs to heal.

Second during Eris’s seduction in SF. Cassian is jealous only when Eris is dancing with Nesta. Azriel can keep up with her too, but he isn’t bothered by it. It’s dismissed because they are friends and he trusts his friend. But Cassian’s insecurity is that he’s a brute through and through and it’s why Nesta sees him as less than. And Azriel is well-mannered compared to him in every way. He’s polite, he sings and dances, and also he has a way with people which is noted in his interactions with the Archeron sisters and the priestesses. But his mannerisms don’t bring out these fears in Cassian. (Insecurities don’t understand if you’re their friend or foe.)

If, instead of being a bastard, Azriel had been a true son of a lord, their dynamic would’ve been so different. 

Cassian doesn’t love Morrigan.

Both are bastards, but Morrigan, the second woman he encounters in his life, is drawn to Azriel and not him. Cassian knows Azriel longer, he knows how much he’s been deprived of love, and he knows his reservations around people. He still chooses to hurt him and only realises his mistake when he sees the look on his face, but he already knew his brother is in love. The reason that makes sense is Morrigan validates him by sleeping with him, proves that he isn’t at the bottom of the pyramid, there’s someone else beneath him—Azriel. Once he got that, he moved on. It’s why he’s not bothered by her endless partners which clearly affects Azriel. Which is why he still flirts with her because he doesn’t regret it.

And now, he still doesn’t love Morrigan. He’s infatuated with the idea of the 17-year old big-eyed girl who saw him as a saviour. With the sexual element thrown in, she became the standard against which other women in his life are measured.

Cassian doesn’t want a mate.

His dream is to have children—not specifically a mate—so that he can be a better father. He only mentions ‘mate’ because he knows he has one. Mating bonds are rare and the one he witnesses is the worst of the ‘mating bond gone wrong’ cases with Rhysand’s parents. His desire for a mate is not as woven into his identity as it is for Azriel. He wants a woman to bear his children—like the other Illyrians, and for him, it’s convenient that she’s already chosen. Even without a mate, Cassian would have settled with any woman as long as he could parent someone. This also shows in the way he treats Nesta. If he yearned for such a bond, he wouldn’t disrespect it as much as he did and definitely wouldn’t prioritise Rhysand over it.

The second bond he witnesses is between Rhysand and Feyre. Since he doesn’t know what happened UtM, all he sees is Feyre knowing the ‘bad guy’ act and still falling in love with his best friend, Feyre supporting him and going along with his every decision. Given how Cassian idolises him, he wants to replicate their relationship even to the point of breaking Nesta to his will. He wants someone to be his Feyre.

His treatment of Nesta in SF is more than his loyalty to Rhysand. The first and only woman to nurture him is Rhysand’s mother. She took him in, fed him, clothed him, educated him. She cared for him in ways his mother should have and couldn’t. Cassian wants an amalgamation of Rhysand’s mother (the ideal mother for his children) and young Morrigan (his dream standard). But he’s stuck with Nesta who is neither ‘motherly’ to anyone nor does she admire him. When Cassian says ‘he’s shackled to her’, he means it. So, he moulds her into someone who is in awe of him, puts him on a pedestal, and makes him feel like a superior male.

Cassian’s arc is fake and forced.

The beginning of SF is quite strong with Cassian doubting himself. He is a War General and yet he struggles to earn the respect of his people because of his status. He’s thrust into the role of a courtier and he questions himself more and more as he’s not a high-born, nor is he trained to handle such diplomatic situations. 

Cassian is no Jon Snow.

His insecurities stem from the fact that he’s a bastard born to an unnamed father. It’s rooted in his core identity. However, Cassian’s situation is not so unique. Of course, he lost his mother because of his birth and that’s an incomparable trauma but it’s also common among his people who breed women. Every boy is thrown into the camps and trained, and only rightful ones are allowed in the Blood Rite. They don’t even live with their families and the only exception is Rhysand. Not to dismiss his trauma, but his insecurity falls flat and undermines the narrative when we factor in Illyrian culture.

All this could have been fixed if Cassian had tried to earn the respect of his people instead of the courtiers who were never going to anyway. Though he’s a War General, he doesn’t share camaraderie with his soldiers, he doesn’t live with them, and he has no respect for them. He does nothing to change his own beliefs or prove to others that he's more than a bastard. Instead, he uses a ‘you have no right to judge me’ attitude while constantly looking for approval everywhere.

Instead of addressing it where it counts, he’s comparing himself with Lucien and Eris, but not Vassa (a human queen) and Jurian (a renowned human War general). Why does an Illyrian who yearns for respect from his people compete with a select few who are only high fae and are of royal blood?

Nesta is his cure-all.

There’s one instance that truly marks Cassian’s supposed growth—where he sees his real ‘worth’—when Nesta admires him for his wits and apologises. In the same conversation, he admits his act was inspired by her. This is meant to be a ‘We make each other better’ moment but it fails miserably as Cassian spends the entire book tearing her down. He shows little to no concern for her wishes or needs. He assaults her in her room, stalks her, dismisses the bargain, and coerces her into an imbalanced relationship. For someone who cares so little about Nesta and her opinion of him, his fears being wiped out in a single conversation is laughable. For someone who doesn't believe he's smart, he sure seemed quite smug about outdoing an evil witch instead of it being pointed out by others and coming to the realisation being a bastard has nothing to do with being a hero.

(This could also be seen as his jealousy which leads him to fuel her self-loathing and fears so that Nesta never realises she deserves better than him. Which is quite similar to what he does with Azriel. The only ones he allows to surpass him are Rhysand, Feyre by extension, and Morrigan since he already got what he wanted from her.)

On the other hand, the one whose validation he truly seeks is Rhysand. Cassian's inner monologues clearly suggest his attempt at embodying him during the different meetings. Despite this imitation, he says the aforementioned to Nesta which can only be seen as a manipulation tactic.

I don’t even think this conflict was even in the OG Cassian character. SJM slapped it on him just for SF because it’s convenient and he needs an arc in his book. But she doesn’t want to fix Illyria or even give it a spotlight, so she stuck with Cassian trying to beat Eris. His insecurities aren’t even resolved. He still hasn’t come to terms with him being a bastard. His healing requires acceptance from himself first and also deep self-reflection. Nesta is only a supply for his ego and an emotional punching bag. Honestly, Cassian disgusts me more than Rhysand.

[felassan]

WBUR article: ''Dragon Age: The Veilguard' creators on their new vision for the fantasy series'

Rest of post under cut due to length and possible spoilers.

“Expectations are so high — whether from the fans of the franchise or the perspective of the company — there’s tremendous pressure.” says game director Corinne Busche. “One thing I’ll say about this team: They really rise to the occasion.” [...] “We sort of lost our way in a couple of previous titles, moving away from that character-focused storytelling that made ‘Mass Effect’ and ‘Dragon Age’ a success,” says John Epler, “Dragon Age” series creative director. “This project really coalesced when we consciously identified that central aspect of the experience: the characters.” “Veilguard” puts players in the shoes of an unlikely leader to a small band of rebels — think “Oceans 11” meets “The Fellowship of the Ring.” “It’s a deeply personal experience,” says Busche. “You’re creating your own character and that might be a representation of you, that might be reflective of the kinds of choices you'd like to make.” For the first time in BioWare history, that customizability allows player avatars to be transgender and access unique dialogue options around that identity. There’s also a prominent storyline about a party member coming out as nonbinary. “I'm an openly queer trans woman — I really believe that representation matters,” says Busche. “Everyone is welcome in ‘Dragon Age,’ and we want people to see themselves and feel like they can have a heroic place here.” [...]"

"4 questions for Corinne Busche and John Epler What makes “Dragon Age” stand apart from other fantasy games? Corinne Busche: “‘Dragon Age’ is a franchise that’s fundamentally always been about this really authentic team of companions that come together to take on insurmountable challenges. It's about people. It touches on some pretty deep themes as well. Injustices. The burdens of leadership. It really is about establishing this sense of found family to take on these challenges that lay ahead.” What feels different from previous iterations? John Epler: “I'd say this version of the game is much bigger in its storytelling, in its scope. We really wanted to put you in every one of the big story moments. So as an example, it's the difference between watching the Battle of Minis Tirith versus being someone who's fighting in the middle of it. You're much more participatory in it. We wanted you to feel like you were part of these big world-changing events. You were right in the thick of it and really focusing on making the story that is so big and epic feel personal just by how you interact with it.” What sort of hero is the player character, Rook?  Epler: “One thing we wanted to steer away from very consciously was the sense of them being a chosen one because that's something we've done previously. They are the right person in the right place at the right time. But there is always a core personality to them. They are always going to be someone who needs to pull together this small but somewhat dysfunctional group and really lead them in a way that makes sense for that team.” Busche: “And it's one of the interesting aspects of each new game having a different protagonist. We do have a true blank slate, some say in ‘Dragon Age: Origins.’ I would put the Inquisitor in that category. Whereas Hawke in ‘Dragon Age 2’ has a very bespoke identity. So we kind of strike a balance between that. One of the defining properties of Rook, who they are as a character, is this idea of someone who's very competent, but as a leader, they're learning how to shoulder this responsibility.” You’ve put a lot of blood and sweat into this game. It’s nearly out. Have people already been telling you stories about how they connect with it? Busche: “Absolutely. One of the reasons that I felt so honored, so privileged to be able to join this team and work on this franchise is so rarely have I seen a game or a piece of media, for that matter, that connects with people so deeply. There's a real sense of ownership and an affinity for the franchise. It's a rare thing.” Epler: “I'll share a very personal anecdote about this game and people connecting. So I wrote the follower Bellara. Early on while we were making this game, I got a diagnosis of ADHD. So I'm writing this character who has a lot of the same mannerisms, a lot of the same views of the world, in a very specific way. And hearing people online, connecting to this character in the way she speaks and the way she interacts, they were able to point to and say, ‘That's me, that's how I deal with the world.’ And it's just such a cool feeling to have someone connect with a character you create and be able to say, ‘I felt seen in a way that I've never felt seen in a game before.’”"

[source]

[istharoth]

In love with a 2-D Character?! Hotarubi Edition!

Blurb: In which you are a character in a popular game the Tokyo debunker boys are coincidentally in love with.

↪ Subaru Kagami

Another one on the list "does not play games".

But he does! This game in particular catches his eye because everyone has been playing it.

He does not have the idea of choosing a character at the beginning, it's too stressful and what if he likes some other characters?

He's going into this knowing it's an otome game (it's not but characters have the power to ignore it. *cough Haku cough*) and poor guy is just worried if he'll lose a route if he chooses a character.

If he's starting the story + if it has routes, he needs to see all the routes.

Chooses you because you're so...he can't put it into words. You're suspicious but you're also very comforting in a way.

Is financially responsible. Does not feel the need to gamble.

"Oh no, I didn't get the character." *2 seconds later* "It's okay, I'll get them on their rerun."

F2P throughout!!!

Apologizes when his character apologizes too, he feels so bad for them but then him and his favourite character are seen together so little, it's kind of sad :(

He wants to see more of you! But the game said no so he turns to the next best thing.

Fanfiction. Writes only for your character alone, has done numerous character studies, directed your personality, even going as far as to find tidbits your voice actors may have left for you

He's a chill player, does not worry much but does very a lot in the story if he's about to die.

No, he's not used to almost dying in every chapter.

↪ Haku Kusanagi

Where do I begin...?

THIS MAN FLIRTS WITH YOU

you're a character on his screen, he's a human who flirts with you after you say your automated line.

Is a bit nsfw but he means well

Commissions? Art commissions?

He's the king of yume.

Has his own fanpage dedicated to you but no one knows it's him because yeah, how will they know?

You know those "Timely Character" accounts? Yeah, he has that.

+ another one to defend you from any haters.

SPEAKING OF SELF-SHIPPING/YUME, he has likely commissioned every artist he knows + likes the art of to draw him (not his OC) and you together.

Will also get into drawing because 1) he wants to make fanart for Subaru's fics. 2) he wants to draw you.

Merch? Babe he's the creator of merch.

You know that one Hatsume Miku deodorant being sold at a Comicon? Yeah, he's going to do that but with you instead.

Jewellery inspired after you? oh absolutely. Body pillow of you? No. Plushie he made after you? Oh hell yes.

He's a keeper, but he pulls on every character. Has insane luck + cracked builds.

Claims he doesn't know how to build anyone except you (but he does)

↪ Zenji Kotodama

Can he hold a phone...? Does it go through him or isahukvas anyways!

First and foremost, he writes bloody good flowery fanfiction.

He chooses not you, but his brother's favourite character! Eventually meets you in Chapter 5?

BAWLS HIS EYES OUT AFTER KNOWING YOUR FATE

you were so young :( how could the clash cut your life short?

Is your biggest fan ever, only pulls on your banners and if he doesn't get you, he's discreetly using Darkwick's money to pull on your banner.

Don't ask me how he got the card details, he's a ghost, he can get places.

You're on his home screen and because he doesn't need sleep, he's constantly hearing your voice lines in game

Eventually, the biwa in Hotarubi was accompanied by the voice of a character.

LIKE, KEYCHAINS!!! Biggest fan of Keychains, will hold them around everywhere displaying them to the world. He's your biggest fan!!

and if someone else claims that title, he's fine with it! More people love you right!! That's all he cares for.

Prev [Sinostra] Next: [Obscuary]

[glearyyyne]

intro (end of the world)

Synopsis: It has been 11 years since you came to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. As you and Satoru grew closer to your job at being co-workers, you've been planning to confess but you didn't expect to confess to Satoru while under the influence of alcohol.

Word Count: 4,807 Words

Warning: tiny angst at the end(?), shibuya incident (AGAIN), drinking alcohol. unhealthy amount of drinking boba tea after training (drink water instead of sugary drink! >:( )

Note: another eternal sunshine title! I promise it doesn't hurt that much since it kind of resembles to imperfect for you fic. Will post some bad news tomorrow :( but I hope you enjoy this!

_____________________________________________________________

Knock knock

"Come in," you heard that deep voice, indicative of someone engrossed in a task before you even opened the door. Satoru's eyes, concealed behind his round glasses, met yours with curiosity as you addressed him as your co-worker.

"I brought you some sweets after my mission.” You spoke with a happy tone, you revealed the crepe box hidden behind your back.

That's the moment you wanted to capture when the tired look that Satoru had changed into his usual goofy face.

“I must be so handsome that you had to bring me some sweets,” Satoru joked as you giggled before placing the crepe on his desk.

But you are handsome…

Was something you wanted to say but then proceed not to as you don't want to strain the close friendship you both have.

It has been 11 years since you came to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. You joined in the third year, but at first, you were confused because there was only one teacher and two students, making you wonder if it was really a school.

**

"These are your classmates," Yaga announced upon opening the door. Expecting a crowd, you were surprised to find only two students: a white-haired boy and a brunette girl.

"Satoru, Shoko, this is [Reader’s name]. They'll be your classmates this year," Yaga introduced. "It's nice to meet you," you greeted them, receiving a response only from Shoko as Satoru stared blankly.

Feeling nervous and confused about his behavior, Shoko nudged Satoru and whispered something, prompting him to sigh.

"I'm Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer," he declared, his ego evident. 

Weeks and months passed and you became close with Satoru but you always felt like Satoru was putting up a wall to prevent you from coming in.

**

“Sensei?” You flinched as you turned around to see Megumi standing at the doorway of the storage room. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Well, I’m just getting a weapon to use in training” You answered. "Shouldn't you be with Itadori right now?" you asked Megumi, curious about his whereabouts.

With an annoyed sigh, Megumi replied, "That idiot is busy feeding Gojo sensei's ego."

You couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words, finding humor in the situation.

As you rummaged through the storage room, Megumi's voice broke the silence. "Hey, um... do you think you could teach me during our training sessions?" he asked tentatively.

You paused, surprised by his request, then turned to face him. "Teach you?" you echoed, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Yeah," Megumi replied, looking somewhat uncomfortable or maybe shy?

 "I've been observing your techniques, and I think I could learn a lot from you." He added.

Before agreeing, you couldn't resist teasing Megumi for his sudden shyness. "Wow, Megumi, I never took you for the shy type, needing someone to hold your hand through training," you quipped, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

Megumi's cheeks flushed slightly, but he managed a small smile. "It's not like that," he protested, though his tone betrayed his embarrassment.

You chuckled, enjoying the rare opportunity to see Megumi flustered. "Alright, alright, I'll teach you," you relented, realizing he was genuinely seeking to improve his skills.

After finally choosing the right weapon, you and Megumi headed to the training room to begin your session. Hours passed in intense practice, sweat pouring down your faces as you focused on perfecting your techniques.

Eventually, you both decided to take a break, panting heavily from exertion. Collapsing onto nearby benches, you wiped the sweat from your brow and took deep breaths, feeling the fatigue setting in.

"That was intense," you remarked between gasps, glancing over at Megumi, who nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, but it's worth it," he replied, a determined glint in his eyes.

As you prepared to resume training, Megumi's unexpected question caught you off guard. "What did you see in Gojo sensei?" he asked, his tone curious.

You blinked in confusion. "Come again?" you replied, taken aback by the sudden inquiry.

"It's obvious you have something going on with Gojo sensei," Megumi persisted, his gaze steady as he waited for your response.

You sighed, realizing that Megumi was more observant than you had thought. "Am I that obvious?" you asked, feeling a hint of embarrassment.

Megumi nodded solemnly. "Everyone knows it, but Gojo sensei was too naive or oblivious to notice it," he remarked matter-of-factly, leaving you momentarily speechless at his blunt assessment.

As you thought back on the countless gestures Satoru had made exclusively for you, you couldn't help but sigh. "I don't know," you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "One day, I just felt those feelings bloom when I looked at him. I guess you can't really explain why you love someone."

Before you knew it, Satoru and Itadori approached from behind as you finished speaking.

"Who is this 'him'?" he inquired, catching you off guard. Startled, you flinched at the sound of Satoru's voice.

"I-I..." you stammered, trying to explain that there was no one else, but Satoru didn't seem convinced. Before you could say anything further, he raised his hand, holding a boba tea, leaving you dumbfounded.

"I know you were training, so I brought you this," Satoru said, his toothy grin melting away any tension in the air. As you accepted the boba tea, you felt those familiar butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"You should have got her water, not boba tea," Megumi interjected, glaring at Satoru with a hint of disapproval in his voice.

Satoru just shrugged off Megumi's comment. "Boba tea is tastier than those tasteless waters," he retorted, seemingly unfazed by Megumi's concern.

"Water makes you hydrated, while boba tea makes you dehydrated," Megumi countered, growing annoyed at how Satoru's sweet tooth seemed to cloud his understanding of the importance of water.

Meanwhile, you stared at the boba tea in your hand, a smile spreading across your face as you took a sip, savoring the sweetness of the drink and the thoughtfulness behind Satoru's gesture.

It makes you fall even more

**

A week later, after completing another mission, you found yourself sitting in Shoko's clinic, getting your wounds treated. As Shoko tended to your injuries, your phone chimed with a notification from Satoru, asking if you had finished the mission and suggesting going for a drink afterward. Unconsciously, a smile crept onto your face, catching Shoko's attention.

"You're smiling again," she observed, her tone playful as she noticed the subtle change in your expression.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as you fumbled with your phone, attempting to shut off the notification. "Y-you didn't see anything!" You stuttered out, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Shoko sighed knowingly. "Does he know?" she asked, sensing the underlying tension.

You sighed, avoiding Shoko's gaze as you stared at the ground. "No," You admitted softly, feeling a bit sad at keeping your feelings hidden from Satoru.

"He'll never know if you won't confess," Shoko urged gently, her voice filled with empathy.

Frustrated, you let out a sigh. "So what if I confess? I'll just add to his burden of having to protect me when he's already tasked with protecting the world from the stupid curses roaming around," you replied, your frustration evident in your tone.

After finishing cleaning and healing your wound, Shoko took off her gloves and offered you some insightful advice. "You always think about the bad side. Why not consider the good side? Wouldn't it be better to go on dates with him, to have him follow you around because he missed you?" she suggested, her words laced with wisdom.

She then reached for a cigarette, lighting it up before taking a puff. As you sighed, her words lingered in your mind, prompting you to imagine what it would be like to be in a relationship with Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer.

"I-I would love that," you confessed, your face flushing at the mere thought of such a scenario.

"As much as you think of those bad sides, all I'm saying to you is that Satoru will never make you feel like you're a burden to him," Shoko reassured you, her voice firm and reassuring.

Before you could respond, Shoko shushed you and hurriedly ushered you towards the door, practically pushing you out of the clinic, leaving you dumbfounded by her abruptness.

Checking the time on your phone, you realized it was still early, so you decided to head back to your dorm and change clothes to at least look presentable for whatever the rest of the day might hold.

A few hours later, after you had changed into more presentable clothes, you mustered up the courage to message Satoru, asking where to meet. He replied promptly, instructing you to meet him at his apartment and providing directions.

Curiosity piqued, and you found yourself standing outside his apartment building, hands sweating and heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door and waited anxiously for Satoru to answer.

As you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing a shirtless Satoru, his white hair still damp as he dried it with a towel. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you felt your cheeks flush crimson. Quickly, you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

"You should have warned me that you were shirtless!" you exclaimed, your voice betraying your embarrassment.

Satoru looked unfazed by your reaction. "Oh, my phone was charging in the other room, so I forgot," he replied casually, seemingly unconcerned about your blushing state.

Satoru let you inside as you hurriedly headed to his living room and sat on the couch. You finished taking a deep breath and calmed yourself before you looked around to observe his place, after all, it was your first time here.

Satoru came to the living room wearing already a shirt and alcohol in his hand that looked like an imported one.

He placed the shot glass and alcohol on his coffee table before he sat in the other chair beside you. “That looks like a strong drink. Where did you buy it?” You asked. “In America when I was on a business trip a couple of months ago, I had been planning to drink that but I didn't like to drink it alone so I tagged you along” he explained. His hands held onto the alcohol, opening the cap before he poured it into the shot glass. 

“Lady’s first?” He teased, “Well if you insist,” you told him with a smile, taking the shot glass out of his hand as you quickly drank.

“Slow down, you’ll get drunk sooner than you expected,” Satoru said with a light-hearted chuckle. 

He was right, you suddenly felt burning in your heart but you can't shake off the thought of Satoru being shirtless earlier.

You poured alcohol into the glass and offered it to him. “It's your turn now dummy,” You told him while feeling slightly light-headed.

Satoru only grinned, taking the glass out of your hand, and drank the alcohol with no problem. 

“It seems like your apartment doesn't have that much furniture” You spoke, sparking a conversation between you two.

“Oh that, I rarely come here” Satoru simply replied.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I’m more used to sleeping at the dorms in the school.” He poured another, passing the glass to you. “You're more used to sleeping there than in this apartment that has like amazing view from the city at night?” You asked again.

“I don't like how lonely it is to be here alone, I’d rather sleep in the dorm knowing everyone I know is there.” 

Is that so…

You thought, hand quickly grabbing the glass and gulping it.

“But why did you invite me here instead of the dorm? We could have just drank there instead” You wiped your mouth as you looked at him with that curious look.

“I don't know,” Satoru teasingly said, his legs spread wide with a smirk plastered on his face.

He finds your question amusing.

Your conversation with Satoru went on as the passing of the glass containing alcohol continued until you threw your head back, hand quickly massaging your forehead.

“Feeling drunk already?” He asked, you nodded lightly. 

“I feel like I can't face what will happen in Shibuya next month” You suddenly spoke about the mission next month.

Satoru froze in his seat, concern etched into his features. "Why do you think so?" he asked carefully, his tone gentle.

"Maybe because this is more dangerous than the usual mission? To the point that all the sorcerers are alerted to be there," you explained, your voice tinged with unease.

"Are you scared?" he inquired softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress.

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Yes, yes I'm scared that I might lose you there," you confessed, a hiccup escaping your lips as tears threatened to spill.

"Why do you think you might lose me?" Satoru asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his concern visible.

"I don't know," you replied softly, shaking your head. "I just feel it.”

As Satoru was about to respond to your confession, you glanced at the clock and realized with a start that it was already 1 am. Panic surged through you, and you scrambled to get up from the couch, frantically rambling about how late it was and how you needed to head back to the dorm.

However, the alcohol in your system made you unsteady on your feet, and you nearly stumbled and fell. Just in time, Satoru reached out and caught you, steadying you with a firm grip.

"Whoa there, take it easy," he said calmly, his voice cutting through your panicked ramblings. "You're in no condition to go anywhere right now."

You tried to protest, but Satoru gently scooped you up into his arms, effortlessly carrying you in a bridal carry. Despite your feeble protests, he walked upstairs to his room, his steps steady and sure.

You felt a mix of embarrassment and gratitude as he carried you, your heart pounding with each step. Reluctantly, you settled against his chest, realizing that you were in no condition to argue.

As he laid you down on his bed, you couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and comfort wash over you, despite the chaotic whirlwind of emotions swirling inside your head.

As Satoru made to leave you alone in his room, you reached out and grabbed onto his wrist, your words slurred from the effects of the alcohol. "D-don't leave," you stuttered out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru turned back to you, his expression softening as he looked down at you. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he sat down at the edge of the bed, his gaze warm and reassuring.

"Okay," he replied softly, his voice tender. 

"I will not leave." He added.

As Satoru sat at the edge of the bed, you couldn't help but notice how his sapphire eyes shone against the darkness of his room. That's when you realize he wasn't wearing anything to protect them since earlier when he opened the door for you, not even his blindfold or sunglasses. His eyes, usually hidden behind some form of protection, were now fully exposed, radiating a mesmerizing brilliance.

"W-wouldn't your eyes hurt?" you asked softly, your words slurred from the alcohol.

Satoru hummed in confusion at your question. "Since you're not wearing your blindfold or the glasses," you clarified, gesturing to his bare eyes with a shaky hand.

Satoru chuckled softly, touched by your concern even in your intoxicated state. His hand moved to gently hold your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. 

"It's fine, it doesn't hurt that much," he reassured you, his voice gentle as he looked into your eyes with a soft smile. 

You felt a wave of relief wash over you at his words, grateful for his reassurance and the warmth of his touch. Despite the haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence.

Satoru pulled his hand back gently, suggesting that it was time for you to go to sleep. However, you suddenly spoke up, your words slurred from the alcohol. "11 years ago... was when I first met you," you said, followed by a hiccup.

Satoru looked at you with curiosity, but he allowed you to continue.

"I always thought you were that arrogant, nuisance bastard who only cared to feed his ego, but I was wrong," you confessed, your words surprisingly coherent despite your intoxicated state.

Satoru's amusement flickered across his features as he listened intently.

"I was wrong because the first time I saw you alone at the training area, I saw how you never had that usual arrogant face, but instead something that shocked me," you continued, your voice growing softer as memories flooded back to you.

Satoru listened intently as you spoke, his expression softening with each word.

"What shocked you?" he asked gently, his curiosity evident.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before responding, your voice filled with sincerity. "You had those unexplainable expressions that I couldn't understand—soft? Or maybe tired," you explained, recalling the glimpses of vulnerability you had seen in him over the years. "Shoko once told me how your clan always put pressure on you because you inherited the techniques..."

You paused, then reached out to take Satoru's hand in yours, the warmth of his touch comforting. "That's when I knew I wanted to comfort you, and I want to let you know that you can always open up to me," you added earnestly. "I hate it when you just cope with them on your own.”

Satoru felt his heart skip a beat as he processed your words. 

"I know, you're drunk right now and I want you to take a sleep now, we can talk about this another time-”

"I love you," you declared, your words filled with raw emotion. "I don't care if I'm drunk or not, but I fucking love you that I can't help but smile like a fool whenever you're in my sight."

Satoru's mind raced as he struggled to find the right words to respond to your confession. He felt a surge of warmth and affection for you, but he also knew the weight of your words and the vulnerability they carried.

Taking a deep breath, Satoru reached out and gently brushed a tear from your cheek. "Thank you for being so honest with me," he replied softly, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "I need some time to process this, but I promise we'll talk about it when you're sober. For now, let's focus on getting you some rest.”

He leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, his heart heavy with emotions as he contemplated the depth of your feelings for him.

You looked up at Satoru with a pleading gaze after he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You promised?" You asked, voice filled with vulnerability, your eyes resembling those of a puppy seeking reassurance.

Satoru chuckled softly at the sight, nodding in response. "I promise," he affirmed, his heart swelling with affection for the vulnerable yet determined person before him. "Now, get some sleep."

Not long after, you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, your breaths evening out into light snores. As Satoru adjusted the blanket, his eyes darkened when he noticed the bandages wrapped around your wrist and stomach. 

It was clear that you had sought treatment for your injuries from Shoko before coming to his apartment, a realization that filled him with a mixture of concern and admiration for their resilience.

Satoru stood up from the edge of the bed and made his way to the door, pausing for a moment to glance back at you one last time. 

Instead of addressing your drunken confession directly, he decided to give you space and time to process it on your own. 

With a soft sigh, he resolved to wait for you to realize and make the move to talk with him when you were ready. With a final, lingering look, he closed the door behind him, leaving you to rest peacefully in the dimly lit room.

**

As the week passed, the memory of the drunken night with Satoru faded into a haze for you. All you could recall was waking up alone in a bed that you assumed belonged to him, feeling a pang of embarrassment for getting drunk and you felt you were unable to face him as you rushed to get out of his apartment.

Despite your worries, Satoru continued to be his usual self, his goofy and teasing nature shining through as he interacted with his students. Surprisingly, he didn't ignore you or act any differently towards you, as if the events of that night had never happened.

It left you feeling relieved yet puzzled, wondering if you had somehow managed to keep your embarrassing feelings hidden or if Satoru knew about them but simply chose to overlook them for the sake of maintaining your friendship. Either way, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his continued presence in your life.

With the big mission in Shibuya drawing near, you and Maki found yourselves at the training area, immersed in a rigorous combat battle. 

As the stakes heightened in anticipation of the mission, every moment spent sharpening your skills alongside Maki, known for her formidable combat prowess, became invaluable.

After engaging in intense sparring, you found yourself on the ground, Maki's stick pointed at your neck with a victorious smirk on her face. "I win," she declared triumphantly. Sighing in defeat, you accepted her help to rise back to your feet, grateful for the opportunity to learn from her expertise.

As you both headed to take a well-deserved break, Maki's keen eyes caught sight of a boba tea beside a sticky note with your name on it, sparking curiosity and intrigue in both of you. 

What's this?" she asked when she took the note and holding up for you to see. You took it from her and read the message, feeling a flutter of surprise and warmth in your chest as you recognized Satoru's handwriting.

"It's from Satoru," you explained, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Looks like he brought me a boba tea.”

For the past week, you had been experiencing a curious phenomenon: after every training session, you would find a mysterious boba tea waiting for you, accompanied by a note from Satoru. 

Despite Megumi or Kugisaki's admonitions about drinking sugary beverages after training instead of water, you couldn't resist the temptation of the sweet treat.

Despite their scoldings, you ignored their concerns and indulged in the boba tea with a smile plastered on your face. 

There was something comforting about the gesture from Satoru, and the sugary drink seemed to lift your spirits after the long torture of training.

Despite the passing days filled with interactions with Satoru, training sessions, and teaching the students, you couldn't shake off the lingering sense of dread as October 31st drew nearer. 

The closer it got, the more familiar feelings of fear and uneasiness crept back into your mind.

Before you knew it, October 31st had arrived, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the day ahead. 

Despite your attempts to push aside your fears, the date seemed to loom ominously, reminding you of the looming danger that awaited the Shibuya mission.

As the last of the sorcerers left the meeting room, you waited anxiously until only Satoru remained. Summoning all your courage, you stepped forward and stopped him just as he was about to leave.

"Satoru," you called out, your voice tinged with anxiety. He turned his head towards you, responding with a nonchalant hum.

"Can we talk first?" you asked tentatively, your heart pounding in your chest. Satoru glanced around briefly before nodding in agreement, taking a step back to close the door of the meeting room behind him.

Satoru took a seat at the top of the desk, his arms crossed as he watched you intently. You stood in front of him, fiddling with your fingers nervously, struggling to find the right words to say. The weight of the impending conversation hung heavy in the air, tension crackling between you as you gathered your thoughts.

"Uhmm," you began tentatively, feeling the weight of the words on the tip of your tongue. Satoru could sense where the conversation was heading, and he let out a sigh before speaking.

"Don't be scared, it's just me," he reassured you with a light-hearted chuckle, hoping to ease your nerves.

You smiled in return, grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood, and continued, "I know if I said this, our friendship might go to waste but uhm..." Your voice trailed off, the gravity of the moment sinking in as you prepared to finally voice your feelings. 

As you gathered your courage to continue, Satoru's expression softened, and he spoke before you could. "I think I know what you're about to say," he said gently, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of understanding.

 Before you could respond, he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "I've been feeling the same way," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity.

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. "How did you know I have feelings for you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart racing with anticipation.

Satoru flashed you a playful grin, his usual goofiness returning. "Magic," he replied with a chuckle, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his response, feeling a mix of annoyance and embarrassment. 

Pulling your hand back, you lightly slapped him on the shoulder, pretending to be irritated. Satoru let out a playful whine, exaggerating the pain as he rubbed his shoulder.

But beneath your playful exchange, your face burned red with embarrassment at the thought of Satoru possibly knowing about your feelings since the time you two drank together.

As Satoru noticed your face glowing red with embarrassment, he gently took your wrist and pulled you into a warm embrace. 

"You think it was just you having those feelings? Well, surprise surprise, I have too since 11 years ago," he admitted, his voice soft and sincere.

You were taken aback by his confession, your heart skipping a beat at the revelation. Quickly composing yourself, you placed your hands on his chest, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. "11 years ago? But you weren't even talking to me when I was introduced to you and Shoko," you pointed out, puzzled by his revelation.

Satoru grinned mischievously as he spoke, "Well, maybe I was just one of those angsty teens who couldn't express their feelings?" The way he said it earned a laugh from you, and soon he joined in, the tension of the moment melting away into shared laughter.

The realization that both of you had harbored feelings for each other for so long filled the air with a sense of warmth and understanding, strengthening the bond between you. 

In that moment, any worries or uncertainties about confessing your feelings faded into the background, replaced by a newfound sense of joy and connection.

As the moment of happiness began to fade, Satoru's reminder of the impending Shibuya mission brought back a wave of fear and uncertainty. "We need to go," he said, his voice tinged with a solemn tone.

Unable to contain your fears any longer, you confessed, "I don't know why, but I really feel like I'm going to lose you." The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of your anxiety palpable.

Satoru sighed, his hands cupping your cheeks gently as he looked into your eyes with unwavering determination. "You won't," he assured you, his voice filled with conviction. 

"Before you know it, I'll come back with that victory grin and, of course, with kisses. I promise." With that, he planted a tender kiss on your forehead, his gesture offering comfort and reassurance in the face of uncertainty.

You smiled a little but still felt scared inside. Satoru got up and went to the door. You followed him, but that was a mistake.

Before you knew it, things escalated real quick…

**

“Nanamin, are you there!!” You turned around after patrolling the place, your eyes lightened up when hearing Itadori’s voice, and were about to head to where he was when the next thing he said made you stop.

“Gojo-sensei… was sealed!” Your eyes widened and you felt like the world stopped. Your hands went numb making you drop your weapon.

fuck no…

You turned around and quickly ran to find Satoru.

Fuck promises.

[yaksha-lover]

i’m obsessed with the thought of vil falling for someone who’s ugly. especially if it’s a forced proximity trope. triple points if it’s enemies to lovers!

there’s just something about a guy obsessed with beauty is shown that beauty doesn’t equal to value that melts me

omg i actually was obsessed with this concept a few months ago and i wrote a very short unfinished drabble (set in medieval au) about knight!vil falling for ‘ugly’ knight!reader but i didn’t think anyone would want to read about an ‘ugly’ reader 😭😭

i definitely agree tho the concept is so perfect for vil imo. like the idea of this guy who’s so fixated and obsessed with beauty (especially one who’s potentially been told that much of his worth lies in his looks) who ends up falling for someone very unconventional completely unintentionally. like theres’s a whole internal struggle in him that he doesn’t want to fall in love with this person. they’re an enemy, and unattractive at that.

but then he just can’t help but falling in love with their character; when they give hope to him and represent a goodness that he’d lost. someone who is called ugly and unwanted everyday by the world and manages to keep their head held high even if tears are pouring down their cheeks.

i think that’s a quality he’d admire a lot; kindness even when the world has been unkind. he wants to be good like that too. in a way, you’re like a mirror of the kind of goodness he wants to see in himself. you’re made fun of and put down at every turn and yet you do not let that stop you from being nice. whenever someone mocks vil, he can’t let it go, he can’t let himself be kind because it hurts and that’s the only protection he’s found.

also the idea of consciously thinking someone is unattractive but unconsciously starting to notice their eyes and lips and desire settling in- help-

unfinished drabble under the cut 👉👈 (also its fem reader bc i think medieval gender roles and the idea of ‘ugly’ woman x hot man couple is kind of important to the theme lol - aka this is just jaime x brienne rewritten but anyway-)

Vil truly believed you were ugly when he first met you. He almost never truly meant the term, but in this case, it was appropriate. Most everyone you encountered agreed. He could tell by how you’d stayed stone-faced at his cruel taunts, apparently used to it. Your features were just a bit too extreme, too out of place, too different. He’d used your appearance against you, scratching at every insecurity you’d thought of and probably some you hadn’t. Still, you hadn’t gotten angry as he’d hoped. You didn’t seek to harm him, even when he knew he’d struck a sore spot.

He persevered, but you’d never given in, despite his hopes that you would become blinded enough by anger and pain to give him a chance to escape. He admired you, in a way. It seemed as though life had beaten you down long before he’d come along, but a hardened rock had emerged from the erosion.

Sometimes his words would cut too deep for you to ignore. You never did anything rash, to his dismay, but he could tell they affected you. He didn’t feel bad; why should he? He was your hostage, and you his captor. Even if you were performing your duty, you were getting in the way of his own responsibilities, his life.

Vil was surprised to learn that you were a high-born like himself. Well, not exactly born to a family of his status and wealth, but a high-born nonetheless. He’d realized that he should’ve been addressing you with your Lady title, but you’d fought at soon as he’d tried.

No matter my origin, you know that no man sees me as a lady, Sir Vil.

-

They came, and they cut off his hair. One of them taunted him for being a beautiful husk. So they’d cut a deep gash across his face. Now your outside matches your inside, ‘Sir’, they’d mocked.

Vil had wished they’d cut off his head instead.

Later, after you’d managed to convince them to let you treat his wounds, he’d bemoaned to you.

Now we’re both grotesque, he’d said, a pair of freaks.

You’re not ugly, you just have a scar, you’d replied. You turned away from your task to face him. You’ll never know what it means to be ugly.

Even with his bitter remarks, you treated his wounds all the same. When he was too afraid to face himself in the reflection of the lake, you’d been the one to peel away his bandages and force him to look.

See, you’d said, not a monster, just a man.

He’d wondered if you were an angel at that moment, a saint. Or maybe you were a witch destined to lead him astray. He hadn’t really cared either way.