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candycandy00 · 1 year ago

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The Doll House - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic Part 3

Despite your crippling fear of men, your family sells you to the Doll House. Luckily, you end up with the handsome, gentlemanly Nanami as your trainer, and he’s about to show you how great a man can be.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Nanami’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m keeping the same tag list as Geto’s part. If you’d like to be removed, please let me know!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

The book series the characters are discussing is The Stormlight Archive by Brandon Sanderson. Jasnah and Shallan are both from it. Everyone please go read it because it’s amazing (and fall in love with Kaladin just like everyone else, in universe and out).

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Daddy kink. Hair pulling. Oral sex. Fingering. Spanking (with hand). Divider by @benkeibear!

Four weeks into your training, you and Nanami are both sitting in your chairs, reading. You adore these quiet moments between you two, where you’re both doing something you love, together. Nanami always seems so relaxed and comfortable sitting there, a heavy book in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. You’re happy he can feel that way in your presence.

The feelings you’re starting to have for him… they’re dangerous. He’s explained to you already that you should avoid developing an attachment to him, because he’s not going to be your long term owner. You understand that. But while you are a little less scared of men in general (you can talk to most of the other trainers at dinner now without nearly having a panic attack), you’re still terrified of the idea of some strange man taking you away from here. Away from Nanami.

“You’ll meet the buyer a few times before you go,” Nanami has told you. “He won’t be a complete stranger to you.”

You were slightly relieved to hear that, but you still felt a knot in your stomach when Nanami casually spoke of another man taking ownership of you. Won’t he miss you? How does he keep training women and then sending them away without a care in the world?

Did the previous women feel this way about him? Did they get this close to him? These questions haunt you.

You close the book in your lap, finally finishing the second book in the series Nanami is lending you. At your pace, you should finish the third one before you have to leave. The books are massive though.

He looks up. “Finished?”

“Yes, just now.”

His eyes seem a little warmer as he asks, “What did you think of it?”

Outside the window you tried to crawl out of once upon a time, snow is falling silently. There’s already a blanket of the shimmering diamond dust on the ground outside, making the warmth of Nanami’s room all the more cozy.

You tuck your legs under yourself and say, “It was amazing! That climax was incredible!”

He smiles and nods. “I thought so too. Have you chosen a favorite character yet?”

You think for a moment. He asked you the same question when you finished the first book, but you wanted to read more before deciding. Now, you think you have your answer. “Jasnah. She kind of reminds me of you.”

Nanami looks surprised. “She does?”

“Yeah. She’s super smart, mature, collected, strong, beautiful…”

He raises an eyebrow at that last word.

“Uh, I mean… you’re… very handsome. But you know that already,” you say awkwardly.

“I appreciate the compliment,” he says. “I think my favorite is Shallan. She’s a bit of a mess, but she’s trying.”

You feel heat creeping into your cheeks. You saw so much of yourself in Shallan that you almost didn’t like her. But she’s Nanami’s favorite? Maybe he thinks more of you than you thought.

“I hope I can finish the third book by the time I leave,” you tell him.

“You will. And you can take my copy of the fourth with you. Think of it as a gift.”

You blink at him. “A gift? How did you know my birthday is tomorrow?”

His eyes widen slightly. “Tomorrow is your birthday? I didn’t know. The book was going to be a farewell present, so I’ll get you something else tomorrow.”

You quickly wave your hands in a dismissive motion. “Oh, no, you don’t have to get me anything!”

“Let’s see, how about a nice dinner?” he asks, ignoring your protests. “I’ll make reservations in the morning. And we’ll need to get you something appropriate to wear. The restaurant I have in mind is high end.”

High end? So he’s taking you some place fancy. You remember your aunt taking you to fancy restaurants a few times in your teenage years, but you had panic attacks when any men came near. You probably scared the poor waiters half to death. In the end, you had to leave before the food was even served. By the time you reached adulthood, your aunt stopped trying, which meant she also stopped buying you fancy dresses to wear.

The next morning, Nanami takes you to a boutique in town and instructs the stylist working there to help you find something suitable. He waits patiently while you try on several dresses, finally settling on a red, form fitting one with a high neckline to balance out the rather daring slit up to your hip. The stylist announces that the two of you have chosen a dress, and from the fitting room you hear Nanami’s voice ask, “Would you like to show it to me?”

“Not yet,” you call back through the curtain. “I want it to be a surprise tonight.”

After putting back on your regular clothes, you step out to find Nanami at the counter, paying the exorbitant price for the dress, as well as shoes and a long coat you’d picked out first. You told him you already had a good coat, but he insisted.

Back at the Doll House, Nanami politely stepped out so that you could get ready. He was wearing a fine suit that looked ridiculously expensive and his hair was neatly styled back from his face. He looked so handsome, you almost asked if you could spend the evening in bed with him.

One of the other dolls, the one being trained by Choso, worked in a salon before being a doll. You suppose that explains Choso’s constantly changing hairstyles, but you’re pleasantly surprised when she offers to do your hair and makeup for you. When she’s finished, and you’re wearing your new dress and shoes, you’re shocked by how fancy you look in the mirror. It’s been so long since you dressed up for anything, you’ve nearly forgotten how nice it feels.

You pull on your new coat, which is long enough to conceal much of the dress. It’s beautiful, with fur trim, and very warm. There’s also a pair of sleek leather gloves laid out for you to wear. You wonder why he wants you to dress so warmly. Maybe he wants to take a romantic stroll through town.

When you step into the welcome room, Nanami is waiting for you. He offers his arm to you in his typical gentlemanly fashion and the two of you step outside into the cold winter night.

You stop short as soon as you walk out the door. There in front of the entrance is a beautiful horse-drawn carriage. The entire thing is white with gold trim, even the horses are the color of snow. Now you know why Nanami wanted you to be warm.

He goes over to the carriage and opens the door. A step lowers down from the side and Nanami helps you up and into the seat, then sits beside you. There’s a heated blanket folded neatly on the seat across from you, and Nanami spreads it over both your laps. “Not too cold, are you?” he asks, sliding one warm arm around your shoulders.

“No,” you say, still a bit awe struck, “it feels nice.”

“I’ve noticed you like to watch the snow falling outside the window, so I assumed you like snow,” he says.

He’s been paying that much attention to you? The thought makes your heart flutter. “I love snow,” you tell him, looking up at the dark sky. The snow is falling softly but steadily, in a way that will only leave a thin coating on the ground. It’s breathtaking.

As the carriage moves to the road, you can’t help feeling like a Princess. The sound of the horses’ hooves clacking on the road is comforting, and you end up leaning your head on Nanami’s shoulder, savoring his heat.

*************

After the carriage stops in front of the exclusive French restaurant Nanami made reservations at, he stands up and climbs down, then helps his doll move down the steps provided. She seems breathless and excited, which is exactly what Nanami was hoping for. He knows being out in public, around men, makes her nervous. The plan was to make the trip there so unique, she wouldn’t have the chance to let her anxiety build. He also called ahead and requested a woman to be their server. He wants this to be a special night.

Once inside the warm, well lit restaurant, Nanami removes his outer coat and hands it off to an attendant. Then he steps behind his doll and gently removes hers. After handing it over and turning back to face her, he finally gets to see the dress she has chosen.

He nearly stops breathing. She’s so stunning in the long red dress, the slit on the side going almost scandalously high, that he’s not sure he’ll be able to remain a gentleman tonight. At the moment, he wants nothing more than to take her home immediately and fuck her into the mattress.

But tonight isn’t about what he wants. It’s about her, about celebrating the day she came into this world.

So he holds out his arm and she takes it, curling her elbow around his to interlock herself with him as they walk through the restaurant. Nanami reserved a secluded table next to a large window, so that she could have an excellent view of the town and the falling snow as she enjoyed her meal.

He pulls out her chair for her and then takes his own. She seems a little bit nervous, but relaxes when a woman comes to the table to ask what the couple would be having to drink this evening. Nanami orders champagne after confirming his doll likes it, and the two of them look over their menus as the server walks away.

Once dinner is brought out, Nanami is impressed with the doll’s table manners. She grew up in a wealthy family, so he supposes it shouldn’t be a surprise, but the way she gracefully eats her meal and sips her champagne seems at odds with the awkward woman who ran to the bathroom to scream a few weeks ago. He still chuckles to himself when he remembers it.

“Do you always take dolls to fancy restaurants like this?” she asks.

“No, this is the first time, actually,” he replies.

She seems surprised. “Really? So why me then?”

“It’s your birthday. And I haven’t been here in a very long time. I don’t enjoy eating here alone,” Nanami tells her.

“I see,” she says, and he wonders why she sounds just a little disappointed.

“That being said,” he adds, “if I’m going to bring someone here to eat with me, I’d prefer to bring a beautiful, intelligent woman like you.”

She blushes and looks back at her plate, making Nanami smile. They make pleasant conversation for the rest of the meal, then when his doll is finished eating, she suddenly touches her ear and says, “Oh no, I’ve lost an earring.”

There’s something strange about the way she says it, as if she’s not really worried, but she stands up from her chair and looks around on the floor.

Nanami’s eyes scan the floor around the table as well. “I can ask if someone can help look for it,” he says, starting to get up himself.

She holds up one hand to stop him. “No! It’s okay. I can find it!” Then she pulls the fabric of her dress up and to the side and gets down on her knees. Perplexed by this odd behavior, Nanami watches as she crawls beneath the table, disappearing behind the thick white tablecloth. A few seconds later, he feels her hands on his thighs, rubbing along the inner sides, then nudging them apart.

He freezes, the glass of champagne in his hand halfway to his lips. For a moment, he sits perfectly still, feeling her hands working at his belt, then opening his pants. Then he slowly sits the glass back down and subtly lifts the edge of the tablecloth. There she is, his beautiful, awkward, sexy, silly doll, pulling his rapidly hardening cock from his pants and wrapping her red lips around it.

He can feel her tongue gliding over him, coating him in saliva, her eyes staring up at his face. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, trying to maintain a stern tone but struggling to keep from moaning.

She pulls away, strings of fluid connecting her lips to his tip. “I’m still hungry, Daddy.”

His self control is being severely tested. He reaches down and grabs a handful of her prettily styled hair, pulling her face back down and effectively shoving his cock back into her mouth.

Fuck, she’s good at this. Her tongue never rests, her lips are tightly locked around him, and she’s making the hottest little “mmmm” sounds he’s ever heard. It’s a massive struggle to keep his composure.

His blood nearly freezes in his veins when the server approaches the table. He hopes the tablecloth hides his lap well enough as he smiles politely up at the woman. She smiles back and says, “Will you be having dessert this evening?”

“No, thank you,” he says.

“And what about your date?” the server asks, probably assuming his doll had went to the restroom.

His grip on her hair tightens and he pushes her head further down, stuffing her little throat beneath the table. “I believe she’s quite full,” he says smoothly to the server.

After a few more words and leaving the check behind on a silver tray, the server leaves. Nanami lifts the tablecloth again and looks down. The lovely face looking up at him nearly makes him cum on the spot. “You’re being very brazen tonight,” he says, keeping his voice even with great effort. “Such a bad girl. I hate to have to punish you on your birthday, but you leave me no choice.”

Excitement flashes in her eyes. He’s been with her long enough to know what thrills her, what turns her on. And nothing gets her wetter than a good “punishment”.

He can’t hold out any longer. He pushes her head down again and says, “Don’t make a mess. I don’t want to see a drop on your dress, or my pants.”

She doesn’t have a chance to respond before he cums directly into her tight, hot mouth. He can feel her tongue and throat working to swallow all of it, sucking the life out of him. He suppresses a groan and hopes no one in the restaurant saw the shudder that just rippled through him.

A minute later, his doll crawls out from under the table and he helps her to her feet. She takes a napkin and wipes her mouth daintily, as if she hasn’t just guzzled his cum. Then she holds up a dangly silver earring and says, “What luck! I found it!”

He can’t stop a grin from spreading over his face, or the massive hardon already building in his pants. There’s no way he can wait until they get home. He leaves a generous tip for the server and then takes his doll by the hand, leading her out of the dining area. He finds the “powder room”, which is structured like a restroom without the toilets. There’s a sink, a mirror, and a wide, padded bench. Apparently it’s a place for people (probably women) to freshen up.

Nanami confirms the room is empty, then locks the door. He sits down on the bench and then pulls his doll toward him by the arm. Using rough but fluid movements, he forces her to lie stomach-down across his lap. She gasps as he moves one hand under the slit in the dress, stroking her thigh, then pulls the fabric up, exposing her black lace panties. His hand moves over her ass, relishing the feel of the plump flesh, the way she’s already trembling beneath his touch.

He pulls off his black silk tie and uses it to bind her wrists together behind her back. Then he pulls her panties down to her knees and gives her bare ass a harsh smack with the palm of his hand.

She lets out a small cry, probably trying not to make too much noise. “I’m sorry, Daddy!” she says. She’s not sorry at all, judging from the lusty look in her eyes.

Smack!

“And what are you sorry for?” he asks.

Smack!

She whimpers and squirms in his lap. “F-for being brazen and shameless… and…”

Smack!

“And?” he says.

Smack!

“For risking us getting caught… and embarrassing you.”

He gives another smack, marveling at the reddened, heated skin where his hand hits. Then he slides his hand down between her thighs, feeling how wet she is, smearing her arousal all over her backside. When he pushes two fingers inside her, she moans and jerks in his lap. He pumps them in and out while she wiggles around, releasing little cries of “ahh ahhh!”

When she’s on the edge of cumming, he withdraws his fingers and gives her another smack, harder this time, and she jolts from the sting. That’s the limit of his self control. Nanami lifts her up and shifts them around so that she’s face down on the bench, her ass in the air, her beautiful red dress bunched up at her waist, her wrists still tied together behind her. And then he’s burying his cock in her dripping pussy while she cries out a little too loudly.

He gives her raw ass another smack as his thrusts get deeper, and she clenches so tightly around him that he sees stars. Three more smacks and she’s cumming on his cock, crying and quivering, her makeup ruined by her tears. Almost immediately after, he reaches his limit, shooting his cum into her core.

For the next few minutes, they sit side by side on the bench, just catching their breath. Then they quietly help each other clean up and his doll fixes her hair and makeup as best she can at the sink. She catches Nanami’s eye in the mirror and gives him a sweet, warm smile.

She’s incredible, he thinks. She’s incredible and she’s his. At least for now.

The thought of his time with her being temporary has been on his mind lately, and he can’t seem to stop thinking about it. He feels so comfortable with her, as if he’s truly home when she’s by his side. She stimulates him both physically and emotionally. Lately, he can’t seem to picture his life without her in it.

There is a way she could stay with him, and he’s given that a lot of thought these past few days. But what would she think of the idea?

On the way home, in the carriage, he watches the snowflakes collect on her hair and leans over to kiss her, his hand finding hers under the heated blanket.

The carriage drops them off back at the Doll House, and as they walk through the parking lot, still holding hands, Nanami broaches the topic to her.

“Are you aware that all trainers at the Doll House are allowed to keep exactly one doll they’ve trained?” he asks.

She looks at him, eyes wide. “No, I didn’t know that,” she says as they near the door.

He reaches out and opens it for her. “These past few weeks have been wonderful. If they’ve been the same for you… I was thinking of ‘keeping you’. How would you feel about that?”

She’s stepping through the open door when the words hit her. Just inside, she whirls around to face him as he follows her in. She opens her mouth. “I-“

“There you are!”

A feminine voice cuts off his doll’s reply. The two of them look up to find an older, classy looking woman standing in the lobby.

His doll looks shocked. “Aunt Rina?”

Aunt? So this is the woman who sold off her own terrified niece to the Doll House. Nanami instantly dislikes the woman, but he keeps his expression politely neutral.

Aunt Rina places one jewel-covered hand on her hip. “I’ve been waiting all evening,” she says to her bewildered looking niece.

Then…

“Pack your things. I’m here to take you home.”

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr

#nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami #nanami kento #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader #nanami kento x reader

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sherewrytes · 6 days ago

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𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 8

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours @sukunasstomachtongue @cosmic-lovr @imm0rtalbutterfly @kyo-kyo1

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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CHPATER 8 - AFTERSHOCKS

Yn pov

The cold night air felt like a slap to my face as I left Kenjaku’s place, my footsteps echoing hollowly down the quiet street. I tried to keep my mind blank, to drown out the lingering, haunting image of Sukuna—his dark, haunted eyes and the barely lit cigarette slipping from his fingers as he whispered for me to leave.

My chest felt tight, my heart pounding as I tried to make sense of the broken pieces he’d left scattered inside me. Every time I thought he’d reached his lowest point, he seemed to spiral deeper, as if he was determined to burn everything down to ashes.

I couldn’t ignore that I still cared. Seeing him like that—seeing him looking at me with that raw, bitter pain—I wanted to help him, to reach out, but I knew better now. I had spent months clinging to hope that maybe, just maybe, he would change for us, for himself, for the family that he still had.

But tonight, his words left no doubt. He wasn’t ready, not for me, not for anyone. And I had to face the reality that he might never be.

A few blocks down, I caught my reflection in the darkened glass of a closed café. I looked like someone I barely recognized—worn, tired, weighed down by a love that kept clawing back even when I tried to sever it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Utahime: “Hey, just checking in. Are you okay?”

The concern in her message softened the ache, even if just a little. I didn’t have to handle this alone; I didn’t have to keep it all bottled up inside. I knew she’d come over, let me talk or sit in silence—whatever I needed. And right now, maybe I needed someone to remind me I still mattered, even if Sukuna had all but forgotten that.

I texted her back, “Not really, but I’m heading home. Could use some company if you’re free.”

Within seconds, she responded, “On my way.”

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and took a deep breath, looking up at the night sky. I whispered, maybe to the stars or just to myself, “I’ll survive this. I’ll get over him.”

But as much as I wanted to believe it, the ache in my chest told me it wasn’t going to be that easy.

I knocked lightly on Utahime’s door, the sound muffled by the weight of my thoughts. As the door swung open, I was greeted by her warm smile, though I could see the concern in her eyes. Behind her, Shoko sat on the couch, a soft glass of wine in her hand, and Geto was casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed. My heart did a little flip in my chest as I processed the sight of them together—together, like a real couple.

I hadn't been prepared for that.

Shoko saw my hesitation, and before I could ask, she smiled and said, “Yeah, we’re dating. Long story.”

I nodded quietly, swallowing back the knot in my throat. I wasn't sure why the news hit me so hard, maybe because it was a reminder that things were changing—life was moving on for everyone, even if I felt stuck in place, trying to untangle the mess that was Sukuna.

Utahime saw my expression shift and gently ushered me inside. “Come on, sit. You look like you need to get out of your head for a while.”

I sank into the couch, a little too aware of the awkward silence hanging between us. Geto noticed and softened his posture, giving me a small, understanding nod.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low but filled with concern.

I forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like it might shatter at any moment. “Yeah, just been a long couple of days.”

I glanced at Shoko, who didn’t speak immediately but gave me that steady, unspoken support only she could. She, too, knew the weight of what I’d been going through. We’d all lived it in some way or another, the pain of love and loss.

Utahime sat beside me and handed me a glass of water. “You know you can talk about whatever’s going on, right? You’re not alone.”

But the weight of the night—the weight of Sukuna’s words—was still too much to carry. I didn’t want to bring up my problems, especially not with how well everything seemed to be falling into place for them. I didn’t want to ruin the rare moment of peace I had here with my friends by pouring out the chaos of my emotions. Not when I knew they already had enough of their own burdens.

“I just...” I trailed off, unsure of how to say what I was feeling. “It’s a lot to process. And I’m not sure where to go from here, you know?”

Shoko’s gaze softened as she placed her drink down, giving me her full attention. “You don’t have to have it figured out right now,” she said gently. “You just have to take it one step at a time.”

I let out a shaky breath, nodding as the tension in my chest eased a fraction. They were here. I wasn’t alone.

But even with their support, my mind kept drifting back to Sukuna, to his cold dismissal, to the rawness of his words.

“You made the right choice… don’t let guilt eat at you.”

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to push the thought away. That guilt... it would always be there, wouldn’t it? No matter how many times I told myself to let go.

But for tonight, at least, I could let the presence of my friends drown out the echoes of his voice, if only for a little while.

I watched as Geto leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Shoko’s lips, his actions almost casual but carrying the weight of a goodbye. Shoko held his arm, reluctant to let go, her fingers tightening around him, before she looked up at him, her expression a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Why?” she asked softly, her voice laced with worry.

Geto’s eyes briefly flicked over to me, and my stomach churned at the look he gave. It wasn’t pity, but it felt like something else—something more complicated. He gave her a small, almost apologetic smile, brushing a hand over her arm. “I’ll text you, Sho. Gotta check up on some people, you know how it is.”

Shoko didn’t respond immediately, but I could see the hesitation in her eyes. She wanted to argue, to keep him here, but she didn’t. Instead, she let out a small sigh and nodded, her fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve one last time before he stood up and turned toward the door.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she said to him, her voice small, almost fragile.

“I will,” Geto answered, offering her one last soft smile before leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake.

I didn’t know what to make of it. Their relationship wasn’t something I was used to yet—seeing them together, watching the small acts of affection that seemed so natural, yet felt so foreign to me.

Shoko exhaled slowly, her gaze turning to the space Geto had just vacated. It was clear she was processing something, her usual calm mask slipping just slightly. After a moment, she looked back at me, her eyes sharp with a quiet intensity.

“You doing alright?” she asked, her voice softer nowr as if the moment had made her more aware of the space between us.

I nodded, forcing a smile even though the ache in my chest was still there, gnawing at me, a reminder of everything I wasn’t ready to face. “Yeah. Just... a lot.”

Shoko studied me for a moment before leaning back against the couch, folding her arms across her chest. “You don’t have to talk about it now. But you know, you’re not alone in this, right?”

I met her eyes, and for a moment, I let myself believe her. Maybe this pain wasn’t mine to carry alone.

Maybe, for tonight, I didn’t have to keep pretending that I had it all figured out.

“Thanks,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling the weight in my chest ease just a little as I let myself believe in her words.

I took a deep breath, the tension in my shoulders still heavy as I recounted everything to Shoko and Utahime. The weight of the situation felt heavier now that I was speaking it out loud, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. They needed to know—especially after everything I’d just witnessed.

“Yuuji came by earlier today,” I started, my voice quieter than I intended, but steady enough to keep going. "He showed up at my apartment, completely out of the blue, looking... well, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. I could tell something was wrong the minute he walked in."

Shoko raised an eyebrow, shifting slightly in her seat, her expression curious but concerned. Utahime looked at me, her usual stern demeanor softened for a moment as she awaited the rest.

“What happened?” Shoko asked, her voice gentle but insistent.

I hesitated for a moment, my mind replaying the earlier events like a loop. "He was asking me if I’d seen Sukuna. He told me that Sukuna had been holed up in his apartment for days and that he was... acting strange, even for him. Yuuji didn’t want to deal with it alone, so he came to me. I knew something had to be off. Sukuna hasn’t been answering calls or texts, and when Yuuji said he couldn’t even get in contact with him, I just had this gut feeling. I knew exactly where he was."

I paused, swallowing the lump that formed in my throat. "Yuuji said Sukuna’s been shutting everyone out, and I don’t think anyone really knows the extent of it. I don’t know how Yuuji does it, but I could see the worry on his face. He’s scared, Shoko."

Utahime’s eyes narrowed slightly as she processed my words. "And then what? What did you do?"

“I told Yuuji to go back home. I gave him my spare key to my place, just in case Sukuna showed up again, but... something didn’t feel right. I didn’t want Yuuji to be on his own with this, but I couldn’t exactly go to Sukuna’s apartment. I didn’t know how to handle that. So, I called Kenjaku, asked if he knew where Sukuna was. He was quiet at first, but then he told me Sukuna was with him—said he wasn’t doing well.” I looked down at my hands, my fingers fidgeting nervously. “He said... Sukuna was completely off the rails, Yuuji’s not the only one trying to keep him together. He’s falling apart, guys. I’m not sure he even wants help anymore.”

Shoko’s gaze softened, a quiet understanding passing between us. Utahime leaned forward, her arms crossed as she listened closely. “He’s drowning, isn’t he?”

I nodded. "Yeah. I think he’s been drowning for a long time. I don’t think anyone’s been able to reach him, not really. And after everything with Jin... I don’t know if he’s even capable of letting anyone in anymore. It’s like he’s pushing everyone away, even the people who want to help."

Utahime let out a slow exhale, her brow furrowing as she processed the situation. "And you? How do you feel about all of this?"

The question hit me harder than I expected, the weight of it pressing against my chest. I paused, uncertain of how to answer. "I don’t know. I love him, I do. But I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep waiting for him to pull himself out of this mess he’s made. He has to want it, right? He has to fight for it."

I swallowed hard, blinking back the burning in my eyes. "But I can’t help him if he won’t let me. I don’t even know where to start anymore."

Shoko shifted in her seat, a small, knowing smile pulling at her lips. "Sometimes the hardest thing is realizing that you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. But that doesn’t mean you don’t care. It just means you have to put yourself first now. He’s got to figure this out on his own, Y/N."

Utahime nodded, her voice quieter now but no less firm. "And you’re not the one who has to carry the weight of his choices anymore. You’ve already done enough."

I let her words sink in, the truth of them slowly loosening the grip of guilt that had been squeezing my chest. Maybe they were right. Maybe Sukuna needed to want help before anyone could reach him. But part of me couldn’t shake the thought—was I giving up too soon? Could I have done more?

"I just want him to be okay," I murmured, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. "I just want him to find a way out of all this... for himself."

Shoko leaned forward, resting a hand gently on mine. “I know you do. But sometimes, the best way to help someone is by letting them figure things out on their own. He has to want to get better for himself, not for you, not for anyone else."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle into my bones. I wasn’t sure what the future held for me and Sukuna, but for now, I had to accept that I couldn’t save him. Not unless he was ready to save himself.

The conversation lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken words. Shoko’s hand remained on mine, grounding me as I processed everything. Utahime leaned back in her seat, her arms still crossed as she studied me.

“You did what you could,” Utahime said firmly. “Now it’s up to him. But don’t think for a second that it’s your responsibility to fix him, Y/N. You’ve been through enough.”

I nodded, though the ache in my chest didn’t lessen. “I know. It’s just… it’s hard to see him like that. To see someone you care about destroy themselves.”

Shoko gave me a small, reassuring smile. “It always is. But you have to remind yourself that you can’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm. You’re allowed to move on, Y/N. You’re allowed to heal.”

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of their words both comforting and suffocating. I wanted to believe them, to let go of the guilt and pain that had been eating away at me since I walked out of Sukuna’s apartment. But it wasn’t that simple. It never was.

Geto’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You know,” he started, his tone careful, “Sukuna’s not someone who’s easy to reach, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t leave a mark on him. Sometimes people need to hit rock bottom before they realize they need to climb back up. You might have been the first step for him, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the insight in his words. Geto had always been quiet, observing from the sidelines, but when he spoke, his words carried weight.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe you’re right, but it still feels like I failed him. Like I should’ve done more.”

“You didn’t fail him,” Shoko said firmly. “You loved him. That’s not failure. But love isn’t always enough to fix someone. And that’s not on you.”

Her words stung, but they were true. I nodded again, more to myself this time, and took a deep breath. “I just hope he finds his way out of this. For Yuuji, for Choso... for himself.”

Geto stood then, brushing his hands against his jeans. “You’ve done more for him than most people would’ve, Y/N. Now it’s his turn to step up. You’ve got your own life to live, and you deserve to live it without carrying the weight of his choices.”

He glanced at Shoko, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

Shoko frowned but nodded, clearly still unhappy about him leaving. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll try my best.”

I watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him, and felt a pang of envy at the ease between them. The love and understanding they shared were palpable, and it made the emptiness Sukuna left behind feel all the more stark.

Shoko turned back to me, her gaze soft but firm. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. And you don’t have to carry this alone.”

Utahime nodded in agreement. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

I offered them a small, grateful smile, though it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, I tried to focus on the present, but Sukuna’s broken expression lingered in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what the future held for him—or for me—but for now, I had to let go. For my own sake. For my own healing.

—Sukuna’s POV—

I stared at the cigarette between my fingers, watching the ash build and fall like tiny, useless fragments of my life. The apartment was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater struggling against the cold. Uraume was gone—finally giving up after one too many of my dismissive grunts. And Y/N… she was gone too.

That thought gnawed at me.

I flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and leaned back, letting the smoke curl lazily around me. My body ached in ways I couldn’t explain. Not just the aftermath of the hospital or the lingering burn of Kenjaku’s words. It was deeper than that, heavier. A dull, throbbing weight that seemed permanently lodged in my chest.

Her voice echoed in my head. The way she said my name—firm, concerned, and just a little broken. Like she still cared, even when I begged her to leave. Maybe especially because I begged her to leave.

I hated it. Hated how much I wanted her to stay. Hated how much I needed her and hated myself for needing her. She didn’t deserve this mess. Didn’t deserve me. I’d proven that a hundred times over.

The door creaked open, and I flinched, expecting Kenjaku to barge back in with another lecture. But it was Uraume, holding two bags of groceries. She glanced at me, rolled her eyes, and started unpacking like I wasn’t there.

“What now?” I muttered, dragging a hand down my face.

“Relax, I’m not here to lecture you,” Uraume said, their tone clipped. “I just thought you might want to eat something that isn’t stale chips or whatever’s left in that takeout box.”

I didn’t respond, turning my head to look at the ceiling instead. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. I could feel Uraume’s eyes on me, but I refused to meet their gaze.

Finally, they sighed, setting down a container of food on the coffee table. “Look, I don’t know what happened with Y/N, but if she came all the way here for you, maybe think about why that is.”

I barked out a laugh, bitter and sharp. “She came because she felt guilty. That’s it. She thinks she owes me something. Like she can fix me.”

“And what if she does care?” Uraume shot back, crossing their arms. “What if she actually gives a damn about what happens to you? Ever think about that?”

I sat up abruptly, the movement making my head spin. “It doesn’t matter, Uraume. Caring doesn’t change anything. Caring doesn’t bring Jin back. It doesn’t undo the shit I’ve done. And it sure as hell doesn’t make me any less of a screw-up.”

They didn’t say anything, just stood there with that same unreadable expression they always had. After a moment, they shrugged and turned away, heading to the kitchen. “Whatever you say, Sukuna. But maybe you should figure out what you actually want before you push everyone away for good.”

I dropped back onto the couch, my head pounding. What I wanted? That was easy.

I wanted Jin back. I wanted Grandpa back. I wanted my old life—the one where everything wasn’t broken and I wasn’t dragging the people I cared about down with me. But that life was gone, and wanting it back was as useless as the cigarette butts piling up in the ashtray.

Still, Uraume’s words stuck. Y/N’s face flashed in my mind—those tired eyes, the way her lips trembled when she spoke my name. The way she didn’t flinch, didn’t run when I lashed out.

What the hell did she see in me? Why did she even bother?

I reached for my phone on the table, hesitating for a moment before unlocking it. The screen lit up, the messages from Kenjaku and Toji staring back at me like a slap in the face. No missed calls. No texts from her.

Of course not. Why would there be?

I tossed the phone aside and leaned forward, burying my face in my hands. My mind replayed the conversation from earlier, every word, every look. The regret in her voice when she said my name. The way she fought back tears, trying to stay strong even when I broke her down.

I didn’t deserve her. I knew that. But damn it, I wanted her. I wanted her to pull me out of this pit, even if it was selfish. Even if I dragged her down with me.

But she was right to leave. She was right to walk away.

Because no matter how much I wanted to believe I could change, deep down, I wasn’t sure I even knew how.

I hear the door knock and Toji strolls in. im pissed off thinking how the fuck does he know where I am. He stared at me, then talked to Kenjaku. I saw them walking in my direction. Ken said again "I think you should go to rehab" I closed my eyes trying to drown him out again....I told him. I already told you no, now just stop

Toji leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his usual cocky smirk nowhere in sight. That alone told me he wasn’t here to bullshit around. I glared at him, the weight of their stares burning a hole through me.

Kenjaku crouched in front of me, his face level with mine. "Sukuna," he said calmly, almost like he was trying not to lose his temper. "This isn’t about what you want anymore. This is about what you need."

I scoffed, looking away. "What I need is for you all to get the fuck out of my face. You think rehab’s going to fix anything? You think a few weeks locked away is gonna magically make me less of a fuck-up?"

Toji pushed off the wall, stepping closer. "Maybe not," he said, his voice low but firm. "But sitting here wallowing in your own self-pity sure as hell isn’t doing you any favors either."

I felt my jaw tighten, my fists clenching at my sides. "You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about."

"Oh, don’t I?" Toji shot back, his voice rising. "You think you’re the only one who’s been through shit, Sukuna? The only one who’s lost people? Guess what, man, the world doesn’t stop spinning just because you’re hurting."

"Toji," Kenjaku said sharply, holding up a hand.

"No, let me finish," Toji snapped, his eyes locked on mine. "You wanna drown yourself in booze and pills? Fine. But don’t pretend you’re the only one who’s suffering. Yuuji’s a kid, for fuck’s sake, and he’s holding it together better than you are. What do you think he’s gonna do if you don’t make it out of this? You think he’ll just move on?"

The mention of Yuuji hit me like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t let it show. I wouldn’t give Toji the satisfaction.

Kenjaku leaned closer, his voice softer now but no less insistent. "Sukuna, you’ve got people who care about you. People who want to see you get better. But we can’t do it for you. You have to make the choice."

I closed my eyes, the weight of their words pressing down on me like a goddamn boulder. I didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to think about Yuuji, or Choso, or Y/N. It was easier to stay numb, to shut it all out.

"I already told you no," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Now just stop."

There was a heavy silence, the kind that made the air feel thick and suffocating. Then, Toji let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"You’re a real piece of work, you know that?" he said, shaking his head. "Fine. Stay here. Rot in your own misery if that’s what you want. But don’t expect anyone to keep picking up the pieces when you finally break for good."

He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Kenjaku stayed for a moment longer, his eyes searching mine like he was looking for some shred of hope, some sign that I wasn’t completely lost.

"I’ll give you some time," he said quietly. "But not forever, Sukuna. Think about what you’re throwing away."

And then he was gone too, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of my own damn thoughts

Toji paused on his way out, turning back to face me. His expression shifted, an edge of disgust crossing his features. “Didn’t you take Yuuji to live with you and Megumi?” I snapped, trying to push him away with my words. “He’s fine. And Choso’s a grown-ass man. Why don’t you save the lecture for someone who gives a damn?”

Toji stared at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “You really think that’s all there is to it?” he said slowly, his voice dangerously calm. “What about Y/N?”

I tensed, glaring at him. “What about her?”

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Didn’t you fuck her? What if she’s pregnant?”

The words hit me like a truck, but I shoved the thought aside.

She’s not pregnant. She can’t be. And even if she was, what does it matter? It’s not my problem.

“Who cares if she is?” I shot back, my voice venomous. “I don’t. She means nothing to me. I don’t know why you guys keep acting like she was ever anything more than a good time.”

Toji’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he stared me down. “You’re a goddamn liar,” he said finally, his voice cold and cutting.

I didn’t say anything, just clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms.

What the hell did he know? What the hell did any of them know?

Toji shook his head, the disappointment in his eyes cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “You wanna pretend like she didn’t mean something to you, fine. But don’t expect anyone else to buy into your bullshit. Especially not yourself.”

And with that, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

I slumped back onto the couch, my head spinning.

Who the fuck does he think he is, coming in here and saying that shit to me? Like he knows what I’m dealing with. Like he knows what I feel.

But the worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the memories of Y/N. Her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at me like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t the broken mess I am.

Stop it. She’s gone. She left. And good for her. She doesn’t need this shit.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the gnawing ache in my chest. The one that whispered she meant more than I wanted to admit. That she still did.

I wanted more drugs, maybe sleep. I wasn’t even sure anymore. My head was a mess, a tangled web of thoughts I couldn’t unravel.

Y/N… pregnant? No. Hell no. I shook the thought out of my head, like swatting away a fly.

There’s no way. And even if she was, it doesn’t matter.

I pushed myself off the couch, the weight of my own body feeling heavier than it should. My legs felt like jelly, the room spinning slightly as I stood up. I barely took a step before my knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard.

“Fuck,” I hissed, clutching my head as a sharp pain shot through it. My palms pressed against the cold floor as I tried to steady my breathing.

I need to chill. I just need to breathe.

But it wasn’t just the withdrawal or the physical exhaustion. It was everything else swirling in my head. Y/N’s face flashing in my mind, Toji’s words digging into my chest, Kenjaku’s voice still ringing in my ears about rehab.

I leaned my forehead against the floor, my fists clenching.

Why can’t I just shut it all off? Just for a little while?

The idea of her being pregnant—it was absurd. It had to be. But the thought wouldn’t stop gnawing at me. What if? What if she was? What if she wasn’t?

And what if I wasn’t even around to find out?

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the empty room. “She’s better off without me,” I muttered under my breath.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave. It lingered, festering like an open wound, making my chest tighten.

I forced myself to sit up, leaning against the couch as I rubbed my hands over my face. I could feel my body screaming for another hit, another drink, anything to numb the storm in my head.

But deep down, I knew nothing would make it stop. Not really.

Kenjaku strolled over and pulled me up off the floor, his grip firm, almost too tight. I hadn't even realized I was still on the ground until he yanked me upright.

"You need help," he said, his voice low and steady, but his eyes burned with something harsher—disappointment, maybe, or frustration.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "No," I muttered, my voice cracking slightly. "I don’t need help. I need it to stop."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me like he was waiting for more.

“The noise, the thoughts... I just need it all to stop,” I continued, my hands trembling as I tried to steady myself against the couch. "Maybe a Xanax... something to take the edge off."

Kenjaku’s lips curled into a bitter scoff, and before I could react, he shoved me back down onto the floor. The impact jarred me, knocking the air out of my lungs for a second.

“You’re unbelievable,” he snapped, standing over me like I was some kind of pathetic, broken thing. “You think another pill is going to fix this? That it’ll fix you?”

I glared up at him, my hands braced against the floor. “Why the fuck do you care, huh? You’re not my family. You’re not my fucking anything!”

Kenjaku crossed his arms, his expression cold, almost calculating. "Maybe not, but someone has to give a damn about you since you clearly don’t."

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I turned my face away, staring at the cigarette butt smoldering in the ashtray on the table. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning down slightly.

“To live with this... this constant noise,” I said, tapping my temple. "The memories, the guilt, the fucking pressure. You don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning every single second of the day and to know no one can pull you out."

Kenjaku crouched down, his face level with mine. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever dealt with shit? You think you're special because you're in pain? Grow up, Sukuna.”

I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. “Fuck you.”

“No,” he said, standing back up. “Fuck you for thinking this is how it has to be. You’re better than this, but you’re too much of a coward to try.”

I looked away, swallowing hard. His words cut deep, but I didn’t want to show it. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll tell you what,” Kenjaku continued, his tone softening just slightly. “You want the noise to stop? You want to get out of this pit you’ve thrown yourself into? Fine. But it’s going to take more than a fucking Xanax.”

I didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. But somewhere, deep down, a small, flickering thought took root.

What if he was right?

Kenjaku’s eyes narrowed, and his voice dripped with disdain as he went in on me.

“When was the last time you even looked at yourself, man? You’re withering away. Skin and bones. Walking around like a ghost of who you used to be,” he said, pacing in front of me like he was building up momentum. “Is this what you want? To fade into nothing?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to meet his gaze. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I?” he shot back, stopping abruptly to stare me down. “When was the last time you did anything that wasn’t about numbing yourself? Did you even sign up for the new school year? Or is that just another thing you’ve let rot?”

I bristled at his tone, my fists tightening at my sides. “I took time off. You know that.”

“Yeah, when Jin died,” he replied, his voice softening for a split second before hardening again. “And I understood. Everyone did. But you said one year, Sukuna. One year. Now look at you. What the hell are you even doing?”

“I’m dropping out,” I said flatly, my voice low but steady.

Kenjaku stopped pacing, blinking like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Then he laughed.

A sharp, bitter laugh that cut through the room like a knife.

“Dropping out?” he repeated, his eyebrows raising in mock surprise. “That’s your big plan? Just throw it all away? Jesus Christ, Sukuna. Do you even hear yourself?”

“I don’t care about school, Ken,” I snapped, finally looking up at him. “It doesn’t matter. None of it fucking matters.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course, it doesn’t matter to you. Nothing does anymore, does it? Not school, not your family, not even yourself.”

“Don’t bring my family into this,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous.

“Oh, I’m bringing them into this,” Kenjaku fired back. “Because while you’re busy spiraling, they’re the ones who have to deal with the fallout. Yuuji. Choso. Hell, even Toji. They’re all trying to hold it together while you—”

“SHUT UP!” I shouted, cutting him off. My voice echoed in the room, and for a moment, everything went silent.

I could feel my chest heaving, my fists trembling. Kenjaku didn’t flinch. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

“You’re better than this, Sukuna,” he said quietly, his tone lacking the usual sharpness. “Or at least, you used to be. But if you want to throw it all away, fine. Just don’t pretend like it’s anyone’s fault but yours.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. The weight of his words pressed down on me, suffocating, but undeniable.

I glanced around the room, my gaze flickering over the scattered bottles, the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, and the faces staring at me—Kenjaku’s, Uraume’s. It felt like they were all closing in, suffocating me.

They don’t get it. None of them do.

The words echoed in my head, growing louder and louder until they slipped past my lips before I even realized it.

“I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

The room froze. The air felt heavy, and for a moment, I thought maybe I hadn’t said it out loud. But then Uraume’s voice broke the silence, soft but trembling.

“You don’t mean that,” they said, stepping closer. Their eyes searched mine, desperate for something—anything—that would prove I wasn’t serious.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Kenjaku’s jaw tightened, his sharp gaze cutting through me like a blade. “Sukuna,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Don’t say shit like that unless you’re ready to have a real conversation about it.”

“I’m not having a fucking conversation,” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended. “It’s not a cry for help, okay? It’s just the truth.”

“You’re lying to yourself,” Uraume said, their voice stronger now, almost angry. “You’re drowning, Sukuna, and instead of reaching for help, you’re just letting yourself sink. But don’t drag us down with you.”

I flinched at their words, my body tensing.

“Sink or swim, huh?” I muttered bitterly, shaking my head. “That’s what everyone keeps saying. Like it’s that fucking simple.”

“It’s not simple,” Kenjaku cut in, his tone sharper now. “But you don’t get to just give up and act like you’ve got no choices. You’re still here, Sukuna. That means something.”

I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that made Uraume flinch. “You’re all so sure it does. But if I’m just gonna keep fucking everything up, what’s the point? Jin’s gone because of me. Grandpa’s gone. Everyone would’ve been better off if I wasn’t—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Uraume snapped, their voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t you dare.”

I looked up at them, my vision blurring. Their face was a mix of anger and pain, their fists clenched tightly at their sides.

“Do you really believe that?” Kenjaku asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “That the people who love you would be better off without you? Think about Yuuji. Choso. Hell, even Y/N. You really think they’d be better without you?”

My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, the lump refusing to go away.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. The words felt like glass, sharp and jagged as they left my mouth. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

Uraume stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Then let us help you figure it out,” they said softly. “But you have to let us in, Sukuna. You can’t keep shutting everyone out.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The weight of their words pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Part of me wanted to believe them.

But the other part—the louder part—kept screaming that it didn’t matter. That nothing mattered.

I looked away, unable to meet their eyes.

I was tired. Tired of the fighting, the guilt, the endless cycle of fucking up and trying to fix it.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered finally, the words feeling empty even as I said them.

Kenjaku didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “That’s a start,” he said. “But thinking isn’t enough, Sukuna. Eventually, you’re gonna have to do something.”

Eventually.

I needed to go back home. back to work. I need to stifle myself a bit. I got up to leave. then I hit the floor.

FUCK!

#jjk x black reader #sukuna x black reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x female reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #black tumblr #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sherewrytes

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alleycatchitchat · 1 year ago

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TROLLS BAND TOGETHER SPOILERS

SO I WATCHED TROLLS BAND TOGETHER!!! MANY FEELINGSS! INCOHERENT!!!

I have SO much to say and think about this movie (positive) buuut I need a few days, or maybe weeks, to process... but I made some notes while watching just to chronicle the emotional journey I was experiencing, and wanted to share! There are SPOILERS here, please PLEASE do not read if you don't want to see spoilers!!

Ready? Ok:

"Let's play some rummy! But I won't let you win, because I play for the money" i think im in love

BRIDGET WEDDING JUMPSUIT FUCK YEAH 😭😭

"I can't remember all my suitors, Grissie" yes you go girl. you're powerful and amazing and people love you, don't ever forget it

apparently poppy casually refers to branch as her boyfriend and that's normal now. i'm (choke) gonna need (sob) gonna need a minute here guys

love that floyd signs his letters "the sensitive one" like yeah babe pretty sure your brother knows who you are no need to specify

sweet dreams IS featured in this movie!! omg im so happy you have no idea. i saw somewhere that velvet and veneer performed that song and it's my favorite ever and i was SO freaking excited to see it featured in one of my favorite franchises but i couldn't find it when the soundtrack came out so i thought it was fake but its not im so happy

peppy how many more dark secrets are you hiding?? he was so straightforward in the first movie but now it looks like he's just gonna keep pulling bigger and weirder hidden drama out of his sleeve as the franchise progresses. not necessarily a complaint just something i noticed

floyd is branch's favorite brother CONFIRMED

floyd! the sass!! ok he's DEFINITELY related to branch and also i think i love him

FLOYD SWEETHEART BABYGIRL DONT BE SAD I CANT HANDLE THAT

“Branch? One word. KEEPER”

Wait but how can floyd be my favorite brozone member when bruce is also so wonderful

I can also totally see the family resemblance between branch and bruce when they simp over their girls

I KNEW peppy was gonna be talking to mr dinkles i knew it i knew it

Also just so happy to see them acknowledge the events of the original movie. Don’t think bridget and gristle were even in TWT?? And the trolls’ history with the bergens in HUGE, and something that they shouldn’t have just written out of the story like that

They’re going to FLUSH floyd?????

Yes clay grandma got eaten try to keep up

Floyd and branch hugging THROUGH the glass is everything i ever wanted and also killing me slowly and painfully

I mean i guess its diamond not glass but you get the idea

“Its fine. we’re not gonna press charges”

Anna is unfrozen with the power of sisterly love but short, male, and blue

Do i like veneer now? What’s happening?

Wow. branch has come a long way since the first troll movie, and i didn’t know how to feel abut that because i was so nostalgic, but seeing him happy and confident like this makes me feel so at peace. yess i know he’s a fictional children’s character what of it

#trolls branch #trolls poppy #dreamworks trolls #trolls dreamworks #trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bridget #trolls king gristle #bergens #trolls veneer #trolls brozone #spoilers #trolls 3 spoilers #trolls band together spoilers #trolls spoilers

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jobean12-blog · 1 year ago

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Temptations

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Word Count: 1,854

Summary: Javi's always busy with work and despite his warnings you can't stay away...you miss him too much.

Author's Note: This is for my Kinktober and one of my favorite kinks- choking...the focus is mostly on the absolute sexiness of this man and his hands in general because clearly I can't stop myself! This is also my first time writing for Javi and I want to thank my sweet love @flordeamatista ❤️❤️for checking it over and making sure I stayed true to the character. Thank you all so much for reading, much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: sassy and flirty reader, Javi is a bit d-om-ish and pos-sess-iv-e, o-ra-l, f-in-g-er-in-g, ma-s-tu-r-ba-tio-n, softness too, a c-u-rs-e or three, light c-ho-k-in-g, c-o-c-k w-ar-m-in-g

Kinktober Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist (Pedro)

“Javi.”

He looks up from his drink, continuing to twirl the small glass between his fingers.

“Someone here to see you,” Steve says, giving nothing away.

“Who?” Javi asks, his eyes narrowing.

Steve just raises his eyebrows and cocks his head before walking off, leaving Javi’s office door open.

Javi mutters a curse under his breath before he lifts the drink to his lips and finishes it in one quick sip. He almost chokes on it a second later when you push the door open and saunter in.

“Surprised to see me?” you ask demurely as you slowly shut the door and lock it.

“Angel,” he growls out in warning. “What are you doing here?”

You feign a pout and toy with the tie of your jacket. “Aren’t you happy?”

He abruptly stands from his desk, his chair flying backward and banging into the wall.

You barely have time to react before he’s standing over you, one long finger pointed in your face and his eyes dark.

“I thought I told you not to come here.”

You stand your ground, raising your chin ever so slightly and meeting his gaze. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

You meant it to come out more powerfully, a strong statement, but instead it’s whiny and petulant.

“It’s not safe,” Javi says as he steps closer. “You know what I’m dealing with.”

You reach up to grab the ends of his loose tie, teasingly pulling on the fabric to bring him even closer.

“I made sure no one saw me,” you explain. “Even parked the car far away.”

He stares at you, unmoving, and you close the distance between you, pressing your body to his.

“What do you want?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips even as they twitch to touch you.

“You.”

“Angel.”

You hold his stare in challenge but he doesn’t relent and steps back to put some distance between you.

“Fine,” you huff. “I’ll leave.”

You turn on your heel and start for the door but before you grab the doorknob he has you in his arms, pressed back to the door with his knee between your legs.

A smile starts to curl your lips and he takes your chin between his fingers.

“You never listen, do you.”

It’s not a question, just a simple statement of the truth and your smile grows.

“And you work too hard,” you state, batting your lashes.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk as he dips his head, brushing his nose along your throat.

“Since you’re here…” he murmurs.

He drags himself away, leaving you panting against the door.

“Take your coat off. Get comfortable.”

With that he turns toward his desk and falls back into the chair.

You stay plastered to the door, carefully sliding the ties of your coat between your fingers.

“Javi,” you sing. “I didn’t come here to watch you work.”

He looks up just as you pull the ties free, the sides of the coat falling open to reveal your mostly bare skin.

“Fuck,” he growls, letting his eyes sweep over you. “You’ve been walking around the office like that this whole time?”

You wave a dismissive hand and shrug the jacket from your shoulders, casually throwing it over the file cabinet.

“Fuck,” he repeats as he gets an unobstructed view of your lingerie set.

“You said that already,” you tease, not moving from the door.

With a wide spread of his legs he leans back in the chair and crooks his finger at you.

Each step you take is slow and calculated, the sway of your hips enticing in every way. You can already see the tightness in his pants and when you reach him and sit on the edge of the desk, you let your eyes drop between his legs.

The pen in his hand creaks under the pressure of his grip as you wait, dragging your gaze up his chest to meet his eyes.

He leans forward, invading your space and reaches up to trace his fingers over the fluttering pulse in your neck. You tilt your head, granting him better access and he smooths his fingers lower, tracing your collarbone.

Goosebumps rise against his touch and you let out a soft sigh.

His hands slide lower, along the swell of your breasts, then he grabs your legs, forcing them to spread open, knees laid back against the edge of his desk.

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” he says as he stands, slowly sliding his loose tie from his neck.

Your breath hitches but you remain still.

With careful movements he takes each of your wrists in his hand and pulls your arms behind your back, settling your hands just above your ass. You feel him wrap his tie around your wrists and secure it tightly.

When he meets your eyes again he raises a questioning brow. You know he’s checking to make sure you’re comfortable but you can’t resist sassing him anyway.

“Sure you don’t want to use your cuffs?”

He sits back onto the chair with a muttered curse then leans in, inhaling against the skin of your thigh before nuzzling his nose along the silk between your legs.

“This pretty pussy of yours is all I want…to eat, to fuck, to own.”

You moan out his name and your hips roll.

“And when I tell you to do something…,” he whispers, knowing you’re desperate for his mouth, “I expect you to listen.”

He runs his thumb over the flimsy fabric, relishing in the slickness as your panties grow wetter.

“Javi,” you whine. “Stop teasing.”

“You think I should give you what you want?” he asks, his soft kisses along your inner thighs making them shake.

“You just said my pussy is all you want…”

Your cheekiness makes his eyes flash with intense heat and he rips your panties down your legs, leaving them hanging off one heeled foot. He kisses his way back up your leg, nibbling your thigh and drawing a groan of impatience from your throat.

His hot breath blows over your pussy and you rock your hips in a desperate attempt for more.

He teases you still, his feather light kisses just out of reach.

“Please,” you cry out, even as your expression is one of pained frustration.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

“Please Javi,” you moan.

His tongue licks a long line through your folds and he immediately closes his lips around your clit, fluttering his tongue over and over.

“Yes Javi, just like that,” you say with a breathy exhale.

He savors all he can before sliding two fingers inside you and watching as you take them, the evidence of how much you love it glistening on his skin.

“So perfect Angel.”

You beg for more and he slides his free hand up to cup the base of your neck, putting enough pressure to let you know you’re his in every way. Your eyes squeeze shut and you choke out his name.

As his tongue works over your clit and he applies just the right amount of pressure to your throat, your walls start to swell and clench around his fingers.

He pulls away and presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing gently until you open your eyes to look at him.

“Tell me Angel. Who do you belong to? Tell me as you come all over my fingers.”

You whisper, your voice nearly raw from your pleading cries. “You…I belong to you Javi.”

He presses his lips to your clit once more and your back arches hard, your breath catching as shudders take over your muscles and your pussy tightens around his fingers.

With softening strokes and lazy kisses he draws out your pleasure and tenderly squeezes your throat.

“Then you better not forget it.”

Stay just like that,” he commands as he withdraws his fingers and stands.

He starts to unbuckle his belt, the leather hanging open as he begins to work on his pants. When his cock is free he swipes his fingers through your soaked pussy, gathering your orgasm and rubbing the sticky slickness along his length.

His free hand finds your throat again and he holds you in place, forced to watch and nothing more.

You struggle against the binds on your wrists, needing to be free as your eyes track his every move.

“Javi. Please. Let me touch you.”

His large hand moves up and down his cock in smooth strokes, pumping hard and fast, the tip bumping your clit and edging you toward overstimulation. Every time you flinch from the touch his smirk grows and his grip on your neck tightens.

“No touching. Not yet,” he rasps.

His thighs shake, tight with impending release. “I’m going to mark you Angel.”

“That’s so hot,” you whimper. “Come on me Javi.”

Your teeth are digging so hard into your bottom lip it’s painful and with three more strokes he grunts, his cum splashing across your pussy and lower stomach.

Spent, he releases your neck as he folds over you, kissing your lips and freeing your wrists. He looks between your bodies, taking in the sight of you covered in his release.

“Fuck Angel, you look perfect.”

Keeping your eyes on him, you dip your finger into the puddle then lift it to your lips, sliding it into your mouth and moaning at the flavor. His cock spasms at the sight before he meets your gaze, his expression sated but still full of burning heat.

Taking some tissues he quickly cleans you up before he sits back in his chair and pats his thigh. You slide off the desk into his arms.

“Aren’t you happy I came to visit?” you whisper into his neck.

He gives you a satisfied hum and wraps you up, gently running his fingers along your throat before his lips find yours again. His kiss is delicate and slow and your hands brush along his chest until you find the open collar of his shirt, dipping your fingers inside to touch his warm skin.

Your hands move higher, over his shoulders to caress his neck and face and you brush the hair from his sweaty forehead before scraping your fingers over his scalp. He murmurs your name, kissing you harder when you shift in his lap and straddle his waist.

“Angel,” he growls as he starts to harden beneath you. “Are you planning on distracting me from work for the rest of the day?”

You smile against his mouth with a roll of your hips, placing soft kisses along his jaw and down his neck, teasing any inch of his skin you can find.

And without an answer you reach between your bodies and take him in your hand, guiding him slowly inside you.

“FUCK,” he hisses, pulsing and throbbing and stretching you out so good.

His fingers dig into your skin before his hands wander over your body, caressing every curve.

“I won’t stop you from working Javi,” you hum as you get comfortable and lay your head along his shoulder, kissing just below his ear. “Go right ahead.”

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @lorilane33 @pedritosdarling

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #Javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #javier pena narcos #javier pena imagine #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos

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seventhcallisto · 1 year ago

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Chapter ⅰ. "loved by."

— His Cologne.

An/Cw; innocent forehead and neck kisses. Touching. Some arguing. Briefest mentions of domestic violence and scars(other characters). Lots and lots and LOTS of world building. Read prologue, or you'll be v confused. Idk how to word count on here or know how corporate people talk goodbye. (Also I don't have favorites, i love all my men equally)

Wonwoo had another toss and turn night. He's gotten less and less sleep these past weeks than he's ever had in his entire life. His mind can't stop wondering. He's plagued by nightmares of their missing soulmate. The one who begged as she pulled away. Cried like she was being tortured. It transfers into his dreams. Haunted him when he woke up grasping the sheets. Gasping for air every time. Only to realize she wasn't there next to him.

"Hey." Mingyu side steps wonwoo, having just woken up himself, the house was fairly empty, many of the guys were doing their shoots, filming, and/or out. Because of that, wonwoo and mingyu have the house to themselves. The only sound of birds chirping could be heard through cracks in the windows. Gyu pulls a bowl and a bag of cereal, pouring himself some. He glances at wonwoo, occasionally watching him stir breakfast in a large pan. After pouring some milk, he leans against the kitchen counter. Eyeing wonwoos quiet behavior.

"What's wrong?" Yes. He already knows the answer. He can feel something has been awry with wonwoo since.. well. A while. "Nothing.." he lies with a sigh, looking over his glasses at mingyu. Gyu slurps the cereal off his spoon. "Bullsh1t," he mumbles through a mouthful, wonwoo grimaces. "You've been off for weeks, don't tell cheol I'm saying this, but.. You're not telling us either. Not even i know what's wrong.." mingyu looks up through his lashes, stirring his cereal half hazerdly.

Before wonwoo replies, mingyu is chewing through another bite. Wonwoo sighs. His eyes are cast back down to his wrist. The golden goldfish taunts him. "I met another.. one of us, the fourteenth one." it's so casually said. Gyu chokes on his bite. Coughing and sputtering into the sink. "What? Like.." he points to the spot right under his own ear. There's a mark there, small, barely noticeable. It's uncompleted and messy. Saturn, surrounded by its rings.

Wonwoo nods.

You're gonna get fired, but maybe it's what you deserve. Your boss was somewhat upset you left without saying goodbye. Eunha has always been a kind soul to you. You've spent all your time sucking up to her for weeks. Anything to distract you. You mindlessly play with your ear. Caressing your own soul mark. Everyone is born with their own soul mark. It isn't until later their soulmates' mark comes through. You were born with saturn behind your right earlobe, tiny specks of the galaxy shining behind it, the colors vibrant against your skin tone.

You're taking a walk after work. Already dressed to visit some places you had on your bucket list. Not to toot your own horn, but you're feeling better. There's nothing wrong with pampering yourself every once in a while.

"Thank you," you tell the cashier as she checks you out. Bags upon bags lay on your arms when you step out back into the street. Shops line back to back, you glance at each. Taking your time. Spring is almost in full bloom. You find yourself wanting to go out more to enjoy the things you haven't taken the time to before. Your eyes scan every sign, every decoration you enjoy or find adorable. You slow to a stop in front of a bus stop. You glance at the advertisements and help wanted posters.

'Soul mark removal session - book by appointment,' the paper reads. 'Lee Hyun,' the soul doctor in the paper smiles brightly. You want to look away, to pretend you didn't see it for some reason. Yet you reach out and pull off a piece of paper with a number. Turning it over and then shoving it in your pocket.

Not even the next hour you're calling the number, your fingers tap against your marble counter as you wait for the dial tone on speaker. You're on hold for ten minutes. The price of morals is high on your mind. "Hello, this Jane with Soul Surge. How may I help you today?" Your conversation with the desk lady is quick, yet you're still tapping your fingers in anticipation as you continue booking your appointment. "And you will be billed two days after your first appointment. How would you like to pay? Alright.." her keyboard clicks.

"Alright, I have scheduled an appointment for you with Dr. Lee, would you like a reminder? " Before you know it, you're done talking and hanging up. An appointment next week. You sigh, the burden on your shoulder still feels heavy. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

The next week comes sooner than later. You're lacking with work because you're so distracted. You bite your lip and toss before sleep the day before. You stare at yourself in a mirror. The first time you've worn clothes that show the majority of your soul marks. Your face grows ever redder at what people will think. For such a young girl to have so many marks on her? It feels scandalous. You pull a jacket over. Although the weather reads warmer than it has all week.

You're called into Dr. Lees office. You're sat across his pristine white desk. "What can I do for you today?" He starts off, a kind smile on his aged lips. You sigh "well I have thirteen soul marks. And I would like to get them removed. " You emphase with your hands, eyebrows furrowed. "That certainly is a number, I admit I do not think I've had a customer with that many, but that shouldn't be a problem. May I take a look?"

You show him all the ones you can reach on your own. If he's surprised, you can't tell. He throws away his gloves, sliding back into his chair. "I'm able to remove only a few of your soulmates' marks on you at a time, but if I can remove your own mark fully, then with time, the others should dissappear." You nod. There is a solution, after all. "And, sorry but- I've heard that after the mark is removed, the person who removed them feels..lonely?"

He laughs lightly, "No, no, that is a complete urban legend." You let out the air you're holding. It's too good to be true. And you're right. "But the other people involved, the other soulmate or soulmates will go through major discomfort, uhm, it will go away in less than a year, permanently. If you are to get it removed, you will never be able to make a connection with your soulmate." his tone is somewhat cheerful. Yet the dread in your stomach builds as he goes on.

"Oh," you don't have a response to his words. He notices your face dropping. "But, like I mentioned. the discomfort feeling should go away within a year-long period." He uses his hands to emphase his words. "And these - the discomfort feeling. How does it feel for the soulmates involved exactly?" You press, pulling your bag onto your lap to hug it. Comforting yourself.

"Well. The effect should take place directly after the removal process. They'll feel a slight burning, like an ant bite sensation. Eventually, after a few days, it'll turn into an urge to itch the spot. The spot will swell and redden within a couple of weeks, and soon enough, week by week, pieces of it will be absorbed through the skin. The symptoms may vary depending on the person. Nowadays, there are creams to help with the symptoms and process."

You bid the Dr goodbye.

Before your treck home, you decide to visit some more attraction spots while you're in the city. You're happy you can afford the luxuries, but you've already overgone your budget this month. You watch street performers, and occasionally, you'll grab a treat to take home to eat as you walk. One snack won't hurt. Your hands are in your jacket. Enjoying the afternoon breeze. In the back of your mind, you're thinking about the decision you want to make.

"Oh, excuse me!" A lady not much older than you apologizes as she bumps into you, her stomach is wide with pregnancy, two kids sit in a double stroller, no older than a year. She has her hands full. "Oh no, that's my fault," you wave her off politely, looking at the stairs behind her. "Would you like some help?" You offer, she smiles gratefully. "If it isn't too much to ask.." she laughs lightly. You're holding the end of the stroller as you slowly decend the stairs.

Once you reach the end of the stairs, she's bowing her head, thankfully. "Thanks, uhm.." You tell her your name. "What a lovely name, surely to bring good luck, I'm Kim Jiung," you smile. "Are you a shaman, perhaps?" She smiles back, pushing the stroller forward. You follow with a short pace. Stepping side by side. "My husband is," she continues, "when i was your age, he was the most desired shaman on the block." she laughs as she reminisces. "I met my husband asking for advice." she stops the stroller and lifts her long sleeved floral navy blue dress all the way up to her elbow. Scars litter most of her arm.

On the inner curve of her elbow is a crown placed on a perfectly red pillow, the diamonds in the crown shift as she turns it towards you. "That's when I found my soulmate," she cheerily smiles, pushing the stroller once again. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, yet it's a sweet story. "Because of the law placed for soulmates, i was able to divorce my husband at the time." A sad look crosses her face. "He was a women hitter. And a drunk. It got worse when I told him about my current husband, youngwin. The process took a year to complete." She smiles to herself at the end. "I wouldn't change the hurt for anything," her hand goes to caress her belly.

"Weren't you scared he'd reject you.. because you were married?" You ask suddenly. She's not taken aback in the slightest. "Never," she sighs peacefully. The sun sets to your left, and the sidewalk is void of many people. "He was the most understanding person in the world," she turns to look at you. "My parents never approved of my relationships. They didn't help me when my ex-husband got violent." She smiles sadly. "But my youngwin did," she turns to begin pushing the stroller again.

You stutter to a stop, watching as she takes a few steps ahead. She looks back to see where you are. Then she sits on a bench. She swings the stroller around to look at her babies, wiping her hand against one of their faces softly. "Healing takes a while on your own, but when you have support, it's much easier to get through the days," she coos at the kids softly. You feel sluggish as you walk over and sit next to her, the settling silence nips you.

You watch the children grasp onto their toys and laugh joyously at their mothers' tickles. Her soothing words bring out coos from the twins that make you smile. "How soon are you due?" You ask, turning to face her. She pats her stomach. "Only four and a half more months," she makes a motion, crossing her fingers. You laugh. "A summer baby, thankfully, I can not do any more winter due dates. i already have plenty of winter siblings," she finishes off, pulling out a snack for the twins. You hum quietly.

"I was an only child to three parents, even that was too much for them," you snicker. Leaning back on the bench, you watch the twins messily smack their food around. She turns to look at you.

"Sometimes children can make or break a couple." You know she doesn't mean anything by it. She's just feeding conversation. You're still reminded of that fateful June night. She takes notice of your silence and your distant expression. "I get it,.. it can be hard, but if you're willing to.. you know - talk to each other. That's always the first step to getting better." She smiles reassuringly. Squeezing the hand on your leg. "When my husband and I finalized our soul bond. I was scared of him not liking me - not my past. But me. It was hard for us to communicate." She sighs. Squeezing your hand again. Her eyes fall to your soul marks. Both on your wrists.

"But we got through it because he stayed, and he cared. And I wanted to get better for him, with him." she pats your hand. "Whatever it is, I'm genuinely sure it will work out for you." her gaze is soft and kind like a mother's. You find yourself giving a small smile back.

The week you met jiung your head swirled with unease, she takes some of it away with her advice. She's updated you on her life almost every day. You've become close friends, possibly even best friends in the span of the week. Although older than you she is definitely the more lively and extroverted one in your friendship. You don't mind though, her positivity is a breath of fresh air. Pictures of her twins, Jino and Jina fill your messages. You can't help but adore their chubby faces, their petite pregnant mom holds them up for one photo smiling gleefully, you assume her husband took the photo. 'They're getting bigger than me!' The text after announces.

Your appointment for your soul mark removal is soon. You're not nervous if you don't think about it every second. The man- soulmate you bumped into seemed well off, right? His clothing was designer. His glasses, too. He- and his other soulmates will be able to afford the solution cream.. right? Whenever you think about him too much, your heart flitters. You try to focus on the small things in your life. And not the way he stared at you. The way his name echos in your head every so often. The way your soul mark yearns to be connected with his. What it'll feel like to be connected with the others as well, how they feel, what they're like. Your mind betrays your wishes not to have those thoughts.

In the midst of night, you're cursed with dreams, Tangled into sheets, laughing with him. More than one person is there, every so often the bed sinks in and you can fel yourself pressed against another person. Skin meets skin in soft, innocent touches, just wishing to be close to each other. The sun beats through the sheets, creating an angelic like glow. You can never make out the murmurs and whispers. When he steps out of the blanket, you miss his touch. You feel empty without him. And then, you wake up, usually groaning at your mind for creating such a tantalizing dream. One you can't forget the next day.

Mingyu is no stranger to the looks his members give him. "What do you know?" Seungkwan is the first to ask, jutting his head at the older guy sitting in the makeup chair. He pushes on mingyu's shoulder, biting into an apple slice. "No, it's a secret. I promised Woo," gyu mumbles, crossing his arms. Across the room, wonwoo sleeps in his chair while the makeup artists finish. He's catching up on missed – well deserved – sleep.

"We're tied, remember? I have a right to know. We don't keep secrets," Seungkwan pouts, chewing the rest of his apple slice down. Gyu also pouts, a reactive thing he copies. Seungcheols chin falls on top of mingyu's head, eavesdropping the entire time. An urging look is in his eyes, encouraging mingyu to go on. He almost gives in. "No. I can't, it's something you have to ask wonwoo about." He sighs and turns away from his members.

Seungcheol and seungkwan share a look over mingyu's makeup chair.

The drive back to the house is long, and wonwoo attempts to catch some more zzz's on the drive. The city lights bounce off the glass, it's well past 9 o'clock. Wonwoo gets the farthest window seat in the back. Hoshi and seungcheol are sat next to him. Arms thrown over each other to share warmth, cheol' head falls on hosh's shoulder, the absence of his snores is a tall tell sign he's not really asleep. Hoshi is pressed up against the other window. He's on his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his timeline. Joshua, Dino, and Vernon take the middle seats, each one of them passing their phones around. They laugh quietly. Mingyu sits in the passenger, his eyes relaxed but not yet asleep.

Usually, a drive home like this would make wonwoo feel content. His soulmates being close by is enough to satisfy the need to be curled under a pile of them. He's lost in thought when the van comes to a stop at their building. Everyone begins to shuffle out. Wonwoo and mingyu are the last two to leave the van. Mingyu shoots a look at wonwoo when he steps out, watching his other member rub behind his ear, where the fourteenth soul mark is. Both of them - followed by their manager - walk into the building.

Everyone's already relaxed when they all get settled down. Movie night consists of seats being switched around here and there. Some don't even bother watching. Just lingering around on their phones or laptops, content to just listen in. Everybody needs some soul bonding. Lately, their energy is drained faster, even Jihoon can feel it. He sits on a single armchair, his laptop propped on his lap. His hoodie is rolled up his arm, while the rest of him drapes comfortably in the chair.

Jihoon mindlessly rubs his soul mark, the planet behind his ear. It stings every so often, like it would when he's been away from his soulmates for too long. He sees wonwoo most days doing the same rubbing motion on his ear. No matter how he tries to avoid asking wonwoo what's been going on, he can't help but feel he won't get an answer out of him even if he did. Wonwoo can definitely be secretive and stubborn sometimes. Jihoon glances to wonwoo and mingyu, talking quietly in the kitchen just around the corner. Only he can see them stare at each other, a heated discussion beginning to rise.

He tries to listen in, but it's too loud with the movie. The rest of the members are wrapped around each other on the couch, work clothing and blankets string about here and there, and they haven't had much time to clean up recently. Jihoon slips out of the living room quietly, leaving his closed laptop in his spot. Only cheol blinks an eye for a split second, watching jihoon go.

Jihoon quietly walks into the kitchen, which is dim except for the microwave light that pops popcorn every second or so. Wonwoo stands with his head hung low, defeated. Gyu turns to the sounds of shuffling, glancing between jihoon and wonwoo. Jihoon stares back, a questionable look on his face when he glances between the two quiet men.

"We need to talk," wonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes only meet halfway with Jihoons.

Your favorite place on earth was your bed, minus the crumbs. You had spent your first paycheck on it, and you don't regret it at all. It's a king size on the floor. You're perfectly content with it. You can lie and say you're always perfectly content. Today is a lie day.

Your face is squished against your sheets, and your phone is propped up on a pillow. Your appointment isn't until 12. You can feel every one of your soul marks pulse every once in a while. A hearty rhythm you've gotten used to, but you're highly opposed to. A pulling urge to get out of bed and wander the streets til you find who you're looking for. You rub your tired eyes. It was a strange night. Series of dreams plaguing your mind when they're still fresh.

You stand on the sidewalk, golden hues paint every corner. Jiung is no longer pregnant, and her kids aren't currently with her. Surely an image of her your dream made up. She talks mindlessly as you walk. Your eyes never stray from her. "You'll know what to do. The timing will be perfect. Everything will fall into place." She repeats every so often. You're in the most expensive outfit you've ever bought, one you used for clubbing when you turned 21, and you never wore again. Every shiney piece of it sparkles like diamonds caught on flash. In the next moment, you lift your head up to photographers and cameras flashing in your face. You go to shield your face, but you're already being pulled away by your shoulder. You blink your eyes, and you're in an airport now. Faceless strangers shove their phones in your face. A hand tugs on your own, pulling you along, another guides your waist. Both help ease the twisted feeling arising. You're crowded between people escorting you. As soon as you begin feeling claustrophobic, you fall into a weightless state. Floating mindlessly before drifting down into a bed. Your bed. Sheets are neatly tucked in, but blankets strew all of the area. As you continue to look, the bed seems to grow. You can hear the distant sound of clattering in your kitchen, yet you can't see anything pass the bed. Quiet talking and whispers, they're purposeful as if they're trying not to wake you.

You're falling back in, head laid on a broad chest. You can hear their heartbeat through their shirt. Strong and steady. Content. Their voice rumbles a melody, humming soft. Behind you is another chest pressed to your back. Their hand is tucked under your neck, soothing strokes to the base of your hair. Warm lips pressed to your forehead. Another pair falls on your soul mark.

When you wake up. You can't determine your own feelings at the reality of it. No one is pressed by your sides stroking your face and head like you wish. No one is pressing soft, delicate kisses to your forehead and neck. No one is humming to you. After you stretch and yawn, you're doing your morning routine. Humming the melody to yourself.

You crack eggs for breakfast. You tune turning more quiet as you focus on what you're doing. By the time you're done cooking it's 10. You don't have the appetite anymore, but you're obligated to eat something before your appointment. You eat what you can and get ready.

You're taking your time now. When you pull your socks on your finger strokes the infinity mark on your ankle, then each of your hands gently touch the shooting star and goldfish on your wrists. When you pull your clothes up past your thighs, you watch the branch get hidden, you watch It meet just over your hips. Fingerprints, the beautiful figure beneath your belly button, and the moon hide away. Then you pull your shirt over your shoulder. You eye the rose, glancing down at the blackhole on your collarbone. You cant see it but you can feel the pulse of the butterfly and the tiger on your back. You reach up to touch the back of your neck. The dragon shifts when you glide your finger over it. All of these intricate marks will be gone. Including your own. Your soulmates will feel the pain of loosing one of their own. You'll never meet them. Never talk to them. Never know the details about them.

What's gotten into you? Since when did you care?

Why do you care?

You're picking up your phone before you know it, you're breathing hard. Why are you breathing so hard? You take a few slow breaths. Your hands grip the phone tightly while you dial Soul Surge.

"I'd like to cancel my appointment."

The news hits the boys like a train. Wonwoo had not just single handedly refused to tell his soulmates about the woman, but mingyu had hid it too. Their other soulmate. "Why didn't you tell us this?" Seungkwan sighs. "Wait." Dokyeom interjected standing from the couch. "So that light was you two?" Dokyeom grabs wonwoos shoulders, shaking him. "I was right there! How does gyu know before I do?" Wonwoos face shows displeasure, many of the boys are about to intervene. Seungcheol pushes dokyeom back gently from wonwoos space. Kyeom can tell cheol is serious when he doesn't bat an eye at his outburst. He takes his seat next to Dino.

"Well," joshua buts in, he tucks a hand under his chin, his arm propped up on the counter. "Maybe she had her reasons to run." he can buy it himself. It's very possible. The room returns to silence. Cheol shifts from his feet, deep in thought. He stops short, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You two did connect, right?" Seungkwan asks before cheol can, and Wonwoo nods. woozi speaks up. "Then that means she and you will find your way to each other"

Letting the universe and soul connect doing its thing takes too long in mingyus opinion. Everyone decided so anyway. Mingyu was oddly the only one to object. At night, he thinks about it. What'd it be like to finally meet her. What kind of personality would she have? What her likes are. Does she like music? Does she know who they are? Is she a carat? His mind fogs at the number of questions. She's been running around his mind ever since wonwoo told him.

He finds himself restlessly trying to convince his members to step up so they can find her quicker. Maybe he's looking for someone to back him up. Mingyu can be personally driven. And maybe this is something he shouldn't be doing. He's out doing his own thing that day. He doesn't have any filming to do. So his hand reaches for his phone, turning his neck to the side and throwing up peace between his fingers. The fourteenth soul mark is on display. His phone audio shutters when he takes the photo.

Only five slides of him. A tight black tee with a low collar, he's perched on a ledge. One in a black tank in the gym, one of him drinking some type of drink. Mingyu. His name is in Hangul, on the side of the flimsy paper cup. His peace photo. Lastly, it is just a picture of the back of his neck. His head is turned. In every photo, the planet is in clear view. The majority of the time, he can't post pictures with the fourteenth soul mark. The company decided against it.

'It'll cause controversy to the public'

This time, he decides to break some company rules. " 🪐 " is the only thing in the caption.

It's the same day jiung drags you into town. "Girls trip!" She laughs so heartily, clinging to your arm at your front door. On her form is a yellow spring dress. And you're in a drop shoulder oversized tee, a pair of loose pants. She takes you to the most popular jewelry store on the strip, waiting in line. "Why are we here?" You ask, she doesn't tell you. "You'll know soon enough!'" She pouts playfully. And maybe she uses her pregnancy to get your spot in the store faster. You don't point it out.

A young lady tightens a metal of your choice to your right ankle, and the accents blend perfectly. Jiung gets a rose gold color on hers, baby blue accents that look perfect against her tan skin, and lastly, a single seashell pendant to match with her own soul mark. "You don't have to get the pendant," she tells you with a smile shuffling on her one foot as they tighten the bracelet to her. She knows you don't particularly take fond of your soul mark.

"No, I'll get the pendant," you smile back to reassure yourself. You watch now as the younger lady fastens the bracelet to your ankle. Zapping it into place. A permanent ankle bracelet is now tied to you. You're not upset at the decision.

"Thanks for coming with me, I didn't think you'd want to get one, though," jiung smiles, her eyes on her own ankle bracelet as she walks in her flip-flops. "Their designs were too pretty to pass up," you say, you both stop in front of another store on the strip. This one has a couple of cut-out boards on the outside. You don't recognize any of them except for j-hope of bts. It's chained down. You stare in surprise.

"People really steal those?" Jiung laughs like what you said is the funniest thing in the world. "I took the d.o one they had out a year ago," she reminisces. You stare in shock, jaw-dropping. "Jiung!" You scold, she pulls you into the store before you have anything else to say. Once you get over the initial shock of the store decorations, you're wandering around. A couple of albums catch your eyes. Your hand scans over the records.

Here and there are a few people. But it isn't crowded. A couple of young girls, no younger than high schoolers, scroll on their phones, taking pictures of the album section, the laugh boisterously. They switch off to take photos of each other with their newly bought albums. You make sure to stay out of their shots. Not far away, you're at the plush section with jiung. She talks to herself about which plush she wants. "Dwaekki or Quokka.." You zone out when the loud girls squeal.

"Oh! Mingyu just posted!" A confused 'huh?' Follows. Okay. Maybe you're curious yourself. You secretly eavesdrop into their quiet conversation, squeezing a plush you got from the shelf, its a wolf with only a shirt on, a content expression on its face. A notification peaks jiungs interest. It's a jingle pop. Her phone is in her right hand while the plush is in her left. She gasps. Your head whips around towards her, glancing over her shoulder at her screen.

There in bold reads; "SEVENTEEN 14TH SOUL MARK REVEALED!" followed by a collage of zoomed in photos of a guy, his hair is short but on the base of his neck is the planet.

Your planet. Your saturn. Glittered with galaxies behind him. When you go to double look, you can feel your neck crick in protest. Jiung calls your name. Shock on her face. She stares at your neck. Gosh. The one day you decide not to wear something that'll cover your neck AND you forgot your jacket. You slap your palm over your neck.

Your name is called again. Jiung has taken the plush from your hand, putting it back on the shelf. "Let's go," She says, so casually glancing behind you. You continue to stare, nothing coming from your throat. You follow her gaze. The two girls' heads shoot back down to one of the phones. "Doesn't it look like hers?" They whisper. Just your luck. "Ji, I-" she grabs your arm and marches to the front of the store, your head is downturned. This can't be real. How could all of this happen? How does-

The girls stop you. "It's you, isn't it!?" Their tone borderlines obsessive fangirls. "No, please move," jiung speaks for you, her arms hold you defensively by your shoulders. You're starting to regain your senses. The girls push your shoulder, acting playful "gosh I didn't know someone so ordinary would be one of their soulmates." The other girl pouts, "She doesn't look good enough for mingyu." her tongue clicks, both of them shove their hands over their arms.

Jiung goes to defend you. "Hey! Why are you two bothering customers?! This is the third time this month!" An older lady yells, she comes over with a book in hand. The girls look shocked, they bow their heads, and Apologize. Sneaking looks at you two that are heated. It's pretty forced. "ajumeoni! We're just talking!" "ajumeoni! Have you restocked the txt albums?" Their voices get high pitched. Shoulders bumping yours and jiung as they pass.

"Let's get you outta here," jiung sighs. She pulls you out the door.

You're in a state of shock.

Jiungs apartment is homely, fit for a family. Boxes pile upon each other. "Sorry it's messy, we're moving soon," she sulks, pushing a box with her foot. She takes a seat on her couch. Patting the spot next to her. You move from the hallway and sit. "Girl talk?" She suggests. "Or we can watch a movie. The twins are with youngwins' mothers. So I have until tomorrow off. " she shifts with her feet under her.

You don't think about it. "Girl talk," you sigh, staring into her dark eyes. When you explain everything. No, really. Everything to her. She takes it upon herself to rub your arm in a soothing gesture. "And.. then I canceled the appointment." You finished. She shifts to get closer to you. "Oh honey" she pats your hand.

"You are such a sad fool," she sighs. You pull your head up, looking at her. "Excuse me?" She stutters. "t-that came out wrong. What I meant was you're not giving it a chance to work out; I mean. I understand not being ready. I do. I don't know what you went through to have done all of that. And there's not a way to change the past. So you'll have to pull yourself out of this mess." She pats your hand again. "I recommend finding a way to talk to your soulmates, talk about it" you nod at her advice.

You exchange a few more sentences, and jiung is right in all cases and scenarios. "Everything will work out"

News spreads quickly in Seoul. You can't go outside much, and when you do, you always feel like someone is about to find out who you are. You usually grab your groceries as fast as you can. Always pulling at your shirt collar.

"Who are these guys again?" You ask on the phone, on your laptop, you're on naver searching up images. Jiungs kids can be heard giggling and fussing in the background. "They're seventeen. They're a 13 member boy group. You've heard of K-pop, right?" You say a simple 'uh-huh' "you know that song. Aju nice? It was pretty popular a few years back." "Nu-uh, nope," she sighs. "I was in America then," you respond casually. "America? Are you American?"

A notification pops up on your open browser. "BIGHIT Entertainment and PLEDIS Entertainment speak up about SEVENTEENS' 14th soul mark." Jiung speaks up for you. "Bighit and pledis are looking for their 14th soulmate," she mumbles through the speaker. "This could be your chance to talk to the company," she speaks your thoughts. You read the site briefly. "I think I'll email them." You nod like she can see it. Throughout the rest of your night, you fill out a detailed email, it takes you hours to come up with the right thing to say.

Everyone has given mingyu a piece of their mind and the silent treatment. But seungcheol? God. He's the quietest of them all. Mingyu is backstage, and many of the members stand around talking and / or getting their makeup retouched. He's not focused on anything particular, though. A frustrated sigh leaves his throat. He excuses himself from the makeup artist and walks over to cheol. Cheol stands tall, talking with jeonghan. His biceps flex against the stage outfit.

"Hyung" mingyu stops just shy of the two members. Jeonghan shoots a look at mingyu. One he knows says he's still upset at him. I mean, the whole reason they're not on strike right now is because this was pre-planned. Immediately, mingyus post was taken down by the company. His account is temporarily taken away. It's been more than a week. And now they're seeing if the public will let it slide under the rug.

Cheol parts from jeonghan who goes the other way. He stands face to face with mingyu. "I'm sorry," mingyu starts. he pauses. "That's it?" Cheol asks, folding his arms. "Mingyu, have you thought about what's going on?" Cheols' frustrated voice makes mingyu drop his head. "Yeah -" "You don't, though, Gyu. our soulmate is out there, and you know what wonwoo said. She ran away from him. It's possible she's not ready to see us. But we dont know unless she comes to us first." cheols voice turns more melancholic at the end.

Mingyus heart hurts, seeing him upset. He wants to reach out and hide away at the same time. "I'm sorry," he repeats himself. "I wasn't thinking," his voice grows quiet, the quietest he's ever been. Cheol can't help it when he reaches out and rubs his thumb on mingyus cheek. "I wanna see her too," he smiles sadly. Mingyu tilts his head into cheols palm. Wrapping his arms around him tightly. Cheol wraps his arm around him back. Ruffling his hair.

A man stands at your doorstep. Cloaked in normal everyday clothes, you would see on any stranger walking the street. "Hello?" He says your full name to your doorbell camera, leaning in too close. "Hello, this is she. Who are you?" You reply from your phone. You're at work at the moment. Your shift ends in less than 20 minutes. "Hello, I'm Song Jaeho with bighit and pledis entertainment. I have a few questions to ask you if that's alright. Do you happen to be home?"

Bighit-pledis ent..? You slap a hand over your mouth. Who told!? It wasn't jiung! Right!? No... she'd never. She respects your boundaries. Oh.. the girls. The two from that store! Oh wait. You sent an email.

Are you even ready for this?

"I.." You look at the time. 15 minutes. Screw it. "I'm not currently home, but I'm just about to get off work. It'll take less than five minutes," the man claps his hands, pulling back from the camera. "Great, I can wait in the lobby then"

"Eunha! I'm off. My parents had a medical emergency and need me to drive them," you clock out, praying no one notices your blatant lie. "Oh yeah, you go on! Tell them I said hello. " she's never met your parents. But is so kind anyway.

By the time you make it to your apartment lobby, you're just under 4 minutes. Mr. Song stands up and greets you. You bow your head back. "Hello," you smile politely. "Song jaeho." He shakes your hand. "I'm assuming you know why I am here," the hybe employee says. Crossing his hands together. "Is this possibly about my.." You point to the back of your ear. "Soul mark? Yes. Actually, it'd be much easier to talk somewhere more privately. Would you mind accompanying me for coffee?" You look around, and he's right. Many people come in and out of the building, and work for a good number of people is over.

The coffee shop is crowded for the afternoon. A good thing in your opinion, maybe you should have thought before following some strange man to a cafe you hardly know. You're lucky he caught you on a half day. You take the only available seats by the exit. The space is fairly far from the next person, so you'll be able to converse openly.

Once you order, jaeho gets down to business. He slides his card between you and folds his arms. "I am specifically the legal advisor for idols who are soulmates with non idols. I work for bighit and their departments. Now, to start off, I would like to first see your soul mark. It's a precaution, so we know you're -" You stop him there. Pushing your hair away and turning your head, you show him your soul mark. He sits up a bit to lean over, eyebrows furrowed. You scrub at it to prove your point. It doesn't flake or move. "It's genuine," you mumble. He sits back. "It seems so," he says skeptically.

"May I?" He points to your wrists. You sigh and lean your wrists out to him. "Go ahead, have at it," he turns and inspects the soul marks on your wrists closely. You watch the top of his thick hair while his glasses hang off the bridge of his flat nose. It's like he's trying to see if you're a real diamond.

"I apologize for the precautions. You can never be too safe." he lays the folder between you. Legal documents laid out perfectly. "What's this?" Song jaeho crosses his hands together, placing them on the table. He points to each sentence as he says them. "I'm assuming you know of the boys' status. They are celebrities, and we, as the company they are signed under, must take the proper precautions to prevent any harm coming to them. It's nothing personal. Strictly business." He smiles. It's not genuine.

"And you want me to sign this?" You stare. "Yes, I will guide you through all of what you'll be signing," he smiles again. Pulling each paper towards him. As he continues to explain. You get the feeling this is just an nda. You read whatever you can on your own, trying to catch any funny business if you can.

"Once I sign these, what will happen?" He pulls away and closes his folder. "Once you sign the paperwork, we'll be in contact shortly. If everything goes well, you should be able to meet all of them. There is no guarantee or specific date set in stone, though." You hum at that. Looking down at the stamped papers in your hands, you flip through each.

All that's stopping you is some paperwork. Yes, it's not as easy as you wish it was. But you can't run away again. And now, probably, is your last chance of meeting them.

"Could I use your pen?"

You're wringing your hands as you sit in a spacious room. It's been atleast two months since you've see song jaeho, you almost thought you had been scammed until he called and scheduled a meet up. You feel foolish when you say that. 'Meet up'. It's like this moment doesn't determine your future. Set in stone. You couldn't even pick what to wear. Should you have gone in your favorite outfit? Something modest? Sophisticated? Sexy? God, you're going crazy.

You place your head down on the arm of the couch. Sighing into it. Your nerves are shocked. You've got to get a hold of yourself. You take a few deep breaths. You smooth out your clothing, making sure it's pristine. You're lifting your head up to scan the room, it's a giant comfortable room, almost like a living room. It seems homely, it must be a place where the boys rest before makeup. You've caught up on the lore of kpop, thanks to jiung, and figured the rest out yourself, possibly through a series of videos.

Truly, you're trying not to run away. But song jaeho already knows where you live, and you need to get meeting them over with. What's your plan? What are you even doing here?

The door opens abruptly. For some reason, you shoot up. Three men step in first. You only recognize Jaeho. You can hear the footsteps echoing down the hallway. It's a wide amount of them.

You feel your heart thump in beat. It rings loudly in your ears. You want to hide. To run from the center of the room. Anything to get every eye off you. Your lips purse. You lick them gently. Suddenly feeling your mouth dry.

The shoes echos as they stop just outside the open door. You can make out some harsh whispering. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Maybe they're just as nervous as you are. The thought makes your lip quirk. "Get in there!" A louder whisper cuts through. Your lip quirks into a smile. What were you getting yourself into?

One by one, models pass through the door. Why are there mod- it's like your heart leaps. You laugh internally. These guys.. these guys are Seventeen.

You can distinguish every one of them. Features you're fond of, already memorized. There's something so familiar about them. You can't put your finger on it.

Your hands squeeze by your side. Glancing from each guy to the four older men in suits. Each of the suited men talk to each other. "Take a seat, please," one of them breaks off from the secretive circle they had formed.

You plop yourself back down onto the couch, almost falling over from the cushioning. You smile to hide your embarrassment. There's only one other couch, and each guy attempts to fit on it. The shortest of them all takes the single armchair, smiling smugly as a much taller one complains about not having room. "I got here first," he says.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, and you bite your laugh down. The taller guy looks to you, a challenged smile on his face. You stare back with a small, a knowing look that definitely says 'yeah i laughed. What're you gonna do about it?'. He takes his place next to you. Plopping his full weight down. You almost fly forward into him. He grins from ear to ear. When you pull away and he scoots to the edge of the couch to give you some space, you find yourself smiling inwardly.

It's no surprise that all of the guys didn't fit on the couch. Two of them noticed this guy taking a seat next to you, yet playfully rush to take the spot on your left. The guy with hamster like features beats the much taller, otter looking one.

He smiles in victory, and you watch the guy pout and walk away. For a split second, your eyes catch each other, you smile, face scrunching. A tiny laugh erupts from you. He grins from ear to ear. He's not so upset he didn't win the spot anymore. He stands behind the adjacent couch with his arms resting on the top of it.

A shoulder bumps yours. It's from the hamster looking guy. He pouts, and you smile, bumping your shoulder back at his. His pout lifts despite him trying not to. His lips curve upwards.

Finally, once everyone is settled down into their spots. Two of the men in suits step forward.

"On behalf of Bighit and Pledis Entertainment, I will be representing seventeen." The other one speaks up. "And I will be representing Ms -" he says your full name.

You sigh, more legal work?

"If this is about more legal signing, I have already signed everything with Mr. Song Jaeho" You gesture to jaeho, who stands off to your left. The men in suits looked puzzled. Jaeho nods. "If that's the case, we can just begin introductions." The fourth guy says, clapping his hands together.

One by one, you learn the names of each guy. You make sure to memorize it perfectly. Some of them are even foreigners, you really wonder how they all met. They seem to have the closest bond, apparently they've known each other for years.

You've got a lot to catch up on.

Soonyoung and Mingyu are the two that sit with you. Soonyoung on your left and Mingyu on your right. The one who took the chair is Jihoon. From left to right, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, and Vernon take the couch across from you. Sitting on the arms are Seokmin and Wonwoo. leaning against the back of the couch is Seungkwan, Junhui, Minghao, and lastly, Chan. The one who lost the race.

"Tomorrow, we're shooting for a video," seungcheol speaks up over the growing silence. "You could come if you want," he nods. Everyone waits with bated breaths.

"I'd love to," you grin.

222 notes · View notes

milfsloverblog · 2 years ago

Text

Stood Up (Part 3) (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: This took me so long to write, I reaaaally wanted to write the angst (beware) but then got stuck at the smutty part (which is why it isn’t as detailed). I hope you’ll enjoy reading this chapter as much as the previous ones! Lil reminder that my requests are open and I’ll happily write for any of Gwen’s characters <3

~1,8k

Saying you had fallen for Larissa would be an understatement. In a couple of weeks the tall woman had insidiously made her way inside your brain and inside your heart. She was usually your first thought in the morning when your eyes fluttered open, and your very last at night when you went to bed and moaned her name, your hand buried between your thighs under the bedsheets.

You hadn’t dared use her phone number yet. She’d said to use it wisely and you weren’t sure that calling or texting her every time you wanted to would make her very happy. You knew she was a busy woman, probably working until late at night only to wake up early in the mornings, and the last thing you wanted was to bother her.

A couple of times you had thought about sending her flowers, you even had the perfect bouquet in mind. Some black pearl amaryllis paired with baby’s breath and eucalyptus. Love and passion, new beginnings, protection. The perfect bouquet. But you had no idea which school to send it to and even if you had, you still weren’t sure that sending flowers to a woman you were having casual sex with was a good idea.

————

You sighed as you flipped the sign on your shop window, staring at the word “closed” written in bold letters while you locked the door. Thursdays were always slow and you had only made a few sales that day. You hated Thursdays more than Mondays, but at least you had Fridays to look forward to. Even more now that you knew Larissa.

“Lydia!” You called as you walked past Ellen’s and noticed your friend taking her cigarette break outside the restaurant.

The girl stubbed out her cigarette and waved as you approached her, pushing an awkward smile.

“Are you alright ?” You asked with a soft chuckle, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“No, no I’m fine! It’s just…It’s so rare to see you on Thursdays!” Lydia laughed uncomfortably and rubbed the back of her neck.

You were about to answer when you noticed it, the silver hair through the restaurant window. You couldn’t believe your luck.

“Larissa!” You whispered, watching the woman for a few seconds before moving to walk inside the restaurant.

“No, no wait-“ Lydia tried to hold you back but it was too late, you had already pushed the door open and taken a few steps towards Larissa’s table.

That’s when you finally realised that another woman was sitting across from Larissa. A redhead with big glasses who looked around Larissa’s age.

The tall woman leaned in a little, telling her companion something that made her laugh loudly. Larissa smiled, looking proud of herself and you watched as the redhead put her hand on the blonde’s one on the table.

Oh. Oh. It suddenly dawned on you that you were witnessing a date.

You took a step back and accidentally bumped into Lydia who dropped the empty plates that she had been carrying. Immediately the whole restaurant turned to look at the two of you, including Larissa and her companion.

You kneeled at the same time as Lydia did to pick up the broken pieces of glass, your back turned to Larissa.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Lydia whispered, glancing at the tall woman still sitting down in her booth. “I tried to tell you, I…I’ll spit in their food if that makes you feel better.”

You looked at your friend, eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill, and shook your head.

“That won’t be necessary.” You managed to say, “We’re not together. She’s free to see whoever she wishes to see.”

With that you got back on your feet and took a deep breath, turning around to look at Larissa who immediately pulled her hand away from the redhead’s. She opened her mouth to speak but you didn’t care enough to listen, instead choosing to get out of the restaurant as quickly as you could.

As soon as the building was out of sight you burst into loud sobs, letting the tears run freely down your cheeks. And it was silly, you knew that. Larissa didn’t owe you anything, she wasn’t yours and you weren’t hers. You weren’t even mad at her, you were mad at yourself for allowing this to happen.

Of course, she would want to date someone more like her. Someone her age, someone who did more in life than owning a flower shop. You knew that you were different from Larissa in almost every aspect but somehow you had hoped that maybe…

Fuck, it hurt. Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you realised that you had fallen in love with a woman who probably saw you as a mere distraction. And you could never be mad at her, because it was all your fault.

——————

The next few days were hell. Every time you closed your eyes you’d see images of Larissa and that redhead woman and it made you sick to your stomach. So much so that you skipped dining at Ellen’s that Friday.

You resented every single person that came into your shop to buy flowers for their partner, your teeth grinding each time someone mentioned their loved one.

“Your partner is lucky, I bet they get showered in flowers a lot.” The tall man standing on the other side of your counter said.

You looked up at him and his beige coat, and then back down at the bouquet of stargazer lilies he had bought. He had been here twice this week already. Yesterday he had gotten a dozen of white tulips and you couldn’t help but wonder if the man knew what these flowers meant.

I’m sorry, the tulips said. I miss you, the lilies added.

“I don’t have a partner.” You simply answered as politely as you could. “I’ll be back in a second, I need to get some organza.”

You walked to the back of your shop, shuffling through your organza rolls to find one that would match the bouquet.

“Ha!” You smiled victoriously and made your way back to the front of the shop, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw Larissa standing where the man had been just a couple of minutes earlier.

Your eyes quickly scanned around the shop, the man was gone. It made no sense, because if he had left and Larissa had walked in, the bell over the door would have rung twice, and it didn’t ring at all.

“I waited for you on Friday night,” Larissa’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, “But you never came.”

You bit back a snarky remark and walked to the counter where the lilies were still waiting to be wrapped.

“I didn’t feel like going to Ellen’s.” You answered, keeping your eyes down as you cut the organza.

“You haven’t called, or texted.” She said, making you shake your head a little.

“Yes, well, I know you’re a busy woman. Didn’t want to bother you.” You shrugged, still not looking at her.

“You’re right, I am a busy woman. But I would have made time for you.” Larissa took a step closer and you put the scissors down, taking a deep breath before looking up at her face.

“I don’t think we should see each other again.” You said as straightforwardly as you could, watching how Larissa’s mouth dropped slightly open as she processed your words.

“Why?” It came out of the older woman’s mouth as a whisper.

Because I’m in love with you but you aren’t in love with me, you wanted to say.

“Because it wouldn’t be right to that redhead woman I saw you with last week.” You shrugged and went back to wrapping the bouquet.

There was a moment of silence before Larissa suddenly started laughing, and it made the anger bubble in your body.

“Yeah, it’s so funny, isn’t it? So, so funny.” You said through gritted teeth. “I really hope it made you feel good about yourself, me fucking you and you fucking me. I know I’m not good enough to be with someone like you, hell you probably wouldn’t even look at me if I walked past you down the street. But, fuck, it hurts. It hurts to know that if I had been a little more like that redhead, maybe you would have wanted me. Really wanted me, like I want you.”

Larissa had stopped laughing then, her blue eyes wide as she listened to your rant. She frowned because she thought she’d understood what you were implying but it couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly be in love with her.

“Marilyn, the redhead, is my employee.” She eventually said after a few seconds. “And she is the closest thing I have to a friend. I don’t know what you think you saw that night at Ellen’s, but it wasn’t a date. We do like and respect each other, but it’s nothing like that.”

You just stood there quietly, realising you had been even more stupid than you’d thought. You wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“You fell in love with me…” Larissa said barely audibly and you shrugged, fidgeting with the lilies in your hands.

The cat was out of the bag now, it would be useless to deny your feelings after your clear display of jealousy.

“Yes, I did. Can you really blame me though? You’re everything anyone could wish for.” You eventually said, daring to look up at the tall woman.

Larissa leaned on the counter, her face stopping only a few inches from yours.

“Tell me again how we shouldn’t be seeing each other.” She whispered, her eyes dropping to your lips.

What happened next happened so quickly, you barely had time to register it. You closed the gap between Larissa’s lips and yours, her hand immediately grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer.

She walked around the counter and lifted you as if you weighed no more than a feather, only to take you to the back of the shop and lay you down on the workbench where you prepped the flowers each morning.

You could smell the roses and carnations that surrounded you when Larissa kneeled between your now naked legs, a couple of thorns dug into your back but you could not have cared less.

“Have me, please!” You begged, aching to feel the woman’s touch on your skin again.

How special it was, you thought as you looked down into Larissa’s eyes and she looked up into yours, to have a goddess kneeled between her worshiper’s thighs, her mouth and chin slicked with their arousal.

You knew you wouldn’t last long when the coil in your tummy tightened dangerously, threatening to snap at any second.

When you came moaning Larissa’s name, the woman’s heart swelled in her chest. You loved her. Someone loved her. She was loved, finally.

“I love you too.” Larissa whispered in your ear as you came down from your high, placing a soft kiss on your panting lips.

She loved you.

Thank god. Thank god for the imbecile who had stood her up.

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa x reader #no beta we die like larissa #principal weems

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weebswrites · 2 years ago

Note

Hmm so how professional do you think om characters would address a wound ?

Let's imagine mc accidentally cut themselves and they're bleeding , who'd be the fastest and who'd be the most skilled and like so ? I personally think beel would be the most skilled one in tending to wounds but barbatos might be the fastest.

The Demon Bros & Undatables: Addressing a Wound

tw: mentions of blood, cuts, minor injuries (paper cut, small scrape from kitchen knife, broken glass). most of them are vague injuries, and are located on the hand or arm, but please be mindful of reading below!

Lucifer

- Definitely knows what he's doing, so you're surprised to see his hands tremble as he wraps the cut on your arm. You don't mention it, half because you doubt his pride would allow him to acknowledge it, and half because you don't want to disrupt his working

- To your surprise, he outright tells you, breaking the silence as he works. He pauses for just a moment to look into your eyes, his way of confirming you'd noticed what he was trying to ignore

- "Seeing you hurt...it effected me more than I thought. I'm just glad you're okay, and that I was here to help. How is it feeling now, love?"

Mammon

- Panics for a moment (or two), but when you start to pull out your DDD to ask one of his brothers for help, he snaps into realty

- Rushes you to the bathroom, and orders you to put as much pressure over the wound as you could while running it under cold water. He grabbed the few medical supplies he had around, and then began assessing the damage

- "Gee, MC, yah gotta be careful! I hate seeing yah hurt like this...but don't worry! The Great Mammon is here to help!"

Leviathan

- He isn't the biggest fan of blood, but has gotten used to the squeamish feeling he gets seeing it through watching anime. This, however, didn't prepare him for when you hurt yourself handing out with him

- It was only a paper cut, but the way you winced and tried to hide the line of blood trickling from your finger almost had him fainted. But the last thing he wanted was you going through any amount of pain alone, so he swallowed his nerves, and took your bloody finger in his hand

- "MC, wh-what can I do. How do we stop this? Tell me and I'll get it, or do it, or whatever is necessary to heal you!"

Satan (see end for notes)

- As the torturer of souls, he hardly bats an eye when you mutter "ouch, fuck!". But then he remembers you're human, his human, and jumps from the chair to your side

- You'd been cutting yourself a snack, and grazed the side of your finger. Your fist was wrapped tightly around it as you reached for a towel, but as you moved your hand to apply it, Satan placed his firmly around the injury

- "I'll put some pressure on it, you rinse off your hand and then we'll walk to the bathroom and get you cleaned up, okay?"

Asmodeus

- You try to casually tell Asmo you'd hurt yourself, but he nearly explodes when he sees the blood. He races to get supplies, so you move to the sink he'd designated as yours and begin to wash yourself off

- He returns with what you recognize as Lucifer's emergency kit, and starts ruffling through it to find what he needs. His strategy is a little messy, but you're tended to before you know it, and very thankful for his quick help

- "MC, of course! I can't have my beautiful human being hurt, now can I? And we'll use my healing serum in a few days, too, to avoid any scarring"

Beelzebub

- For a demon who spends most of his time eating, he's incredibly efficient at addressing your wound. Your brain has hardly recognized it when he's applying pressure with one hand, other grabbing towels to absorb any blood

- Asks questions about how deep you think it went, and how clean the knife was, using the information to determine that you'd be okay (something you figured, but thanked him for reassuring you of anyways)

- "You'll be alright, MC. We'll go get a band aid for you, and in a few days you'll be nearly good as new. Now, let's get you something for the pain, too. A scrape like that has got to sting"

Belphegor

- You're glad he's awake when you accidentally hurt yourself, and even gladder that he rushes to your side and takes your hand in his before you can see any blood begin to fall

- Walks you down the stairs to the main bathroom, where he carefully washes and wraps your wound. The pain almost immediately subsides, and you're impressed at the thoroughness Belphie practiced

- "It just seemed like the right things to do. I treated you the same way I'd have treated myself. That's only fair, right?"

Diavolo

- Helping Diavolo decorate for a party seemed simple enough, until he kept giving you increasingly difficult tasks. After just a few hours, you found yourself at the top of a very tall ladder, replacing light bulbs in a chandelier

- They were old, dusty, and most of them had burnt out. Devildom technology was advanced enough that their light bulbs lasted decades, and all needed changing around the same time. This was nice, but after decades of use, the glass was weak, so you weren't totally surprised when one shattered in your hand

- "MC, fall down, I'll catch you!" for some reason, you listen, falling an incredible height, but he does catch you. "I'm taking you to the bathroom, I know Barbatos has lots of medical equipment stored around. We'll wash and get any glass out of your hand before bandaging it nicely. Don't worry, I've got you"

Barbatos

- You were spending some quality MC time in the castle when you accidentally hurt yourself. You clutched your arm tightly and found Barbatos, who you knew would have the tools and intelligence to help

- And he did. You quickly went to his office, where he pulled out a large bag of human, angel, and demon first aid tools. He knew which ones were for humans, and quickly applied them to your wound after disinfecting it

- "I'm glad you came to me, MC. Besides my extensive supply of tools, it makes me happy you came to me over anyone else when you were hurt. I hope I can help you next time, too"

Simeon

- He was showing you a book Michael recommended him when you turned one of the pages and got a paper cut. You only winced a bit at the pain, but Simeon instantly took your finger and kissed it gently

- Somehow, the pain seemed to go away, and he took a nearby band aid and loosely wrapped it around the cut. He worked fast, and you basically forgot about the small injury altogether within a few minutes

- "I get paper cuts all the time, I don't know how Satan doesn't too with the amount he reads. I'm sad that you got one from one of my books, so I hope my care helps your healing"

Solomon

- You were helping him prepare dinner when your fingers got too close to the knife, and you accidentally took a layer or two of skin off with the carrot slice. You stood in shock for a moment before grabbing a towel and squeezing it around your finger

- Realizing what had happened, Solomon quickly got the first aid kit from your bathroom, and you met him by the sink. After cleaning off your wound and applying ointment and a small wrap, he held your hand in his, a clear guilt taking hold over him

- "I'm so sorry, MC. If you didn't have to monitor my cooking so closely you wouldn't have gotten hurt. I just hope it isn't too painful, and that you get better soon" (you promise him it wasn't his fault, but he only half believes you)

Satan note) Something I kept thinking about with Satan is that as he tortures to kill, not heal, he wouldn't know how to address a wound. BUT I think he learns how through reading, and also he definitely does research as the two of you grow closer. So he's ready for situations like that ^

A/N: I hope you enjoy! I'm sorry if the Undatables are a bit OOC, I don't write for them often, but I tried to stay as in character as possible!

Also don't mind that Lucifer is the only one who calls MC a pet name, that's my Lucifer stan ass HCing that he calls me love (as well as other things too)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me brothers #obey me hc #obey me undatables

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nonhumanresources · 2 months ago

Text

First Day On The Job

Another commission story incoming! This one was commissioned by @actualhorseprincess. This one was quite fun, since I got to bring in one of my own characters, Rum. Luna's a very chill horse-wolf hybrid, everyone go tell her she's the best princess.

Also, in case you're wondering about the seeming incongruity of the setting, it's on purpose I swear. Picture a modern day city with an alchemist slotted in there and you're on the right track. Also, happy TF Tuesday.

Summary: Luna lands a hotly-contested job with the town's alchemist, Rum, and arrives on her first day for a tour of the lab, entirely unaware of the far more exciting plans Rum has in store for her. Turns out the alchemist has a reputation for a reason, and Luna should have read her NDA more carefully.

What to expect: Dragon TF, some oversized assets (Luna likes it big!), an irresponsible amount of teasing, lots of clothes dismantling, post-TF sensitivity, accent TF to such a cartoonish degree it is frankly unreasonable, and idle mentions of eggs.

Length: 4.2k words.

If you'd rather read this with somewhat easier formatting, here's a link to the same story on Google Drive!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...and here is where you’ll work.” Rum tapped the clipboard she was holding against a hard backed chair, sitting in the corner of a cramped room. It was stuffed to the brim with tables and shelves, dusty instruments lining the walls and bins of glassware sitting unattended. There was barely enough room for the golden dragon’s tail to sway without knocking into something. “I apologize for the mess; I’ve yet to find time to properly clean in here, but everything you need to perform your duties should be present.”

Luna nodded frantically, trying to take the whole room in. She wanted to make a good first impression, so, wisely, during the majority of the tour, she’d left her mouth shut to avoid asking any silly questions. She was dressed to the nines: a leather bodice, laced tight on top of a blue top, sturdy pants, leather boots over her hooves and matching gloves, gleaming hair pulled back into a ponytail. Atop all this she wore a dark blue coat. It was a striking look, she’d thought to herself that morning—something befitting of an alchemist’s apprentice. The look emphasized her unique body, purple fur and wolfish up top with large, pointed ears, a horse’s tail and charcoal-colored hooves down below. Of course, when she’d shown up, Rum was wearing simple pants, a plain shirt, and a lab coat, which made Luna think that perhaps dressing like a 19th century countess was not her brightest idea, so she was doing her best to make up for it. The woman wasn’t even wearing shoes, for crying out loud.

As always the rest of the story is under the read more. I love comments and questions so don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

Luna really, really wanted this job. Rum, local scientist, alchemist, literal golden dragon and one-woman powerhouse, had recently posted a listing for an apprentice. Luna didn’t know much about alchemy, but she’d thrown her hat into the ring anyway and figured that her 11th grade chemistry could probably carry her through the first week until she got some proper training. After that, it would be smooth sailing—a stable job, fascinating work, and solid pay. With flexible hours, too! The fact that Rum was widely considered one of the most attractive dragons in town and one of the most generous were just two more benefits to add to the pile. Now, after three nail-biting weeks of interviews and waiting, she was finally here, in what was apparently her own office. Sure, the outfit was ridiculous in hindsight, but the sheer amount of anxiety lifted from her shoulders and the excitement of her first day kept her from caring too much.

“Any questions?” Rum nudged her glasses upwards, then rested her paw on her hip. She positively exuded a casual air; thus far, Luna had never seen her not look at ease.

“Nope!” Luna responded, shaking her head again. A strand of her dark-blue hair escaped the ponytail, and she tucked it behind her ear, smiling sheepishly.

Rum raised a brow, looking skeptically over her glasses. “None at all? I can’t have explained it all that thoroughly.”

Luna’s mind raced. “Oh! U-uh, I mean, there was the, the…” she stammered, thinking back through the hour-long explanation of Rum’s lab and trying to pull anything she could to ask about.

Fortunately, she was spared as Rum laughed, brushing past her, the edge of her scaly wing brushing against Luna’s feathery ones. “I’m kidding, darling. I could tell you were listening quite intently. I’m sure you’ll have many questions over the next few weeks, and I expect to have an answer for all of them. If not, we’ll have to discover that answer together! For now, though, I have a question for you: would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” Luna sighed, rubbing the back of her wrist with her other hand. Rum picked up a tray that Luna had barely noticed in the clutter, offering her a small glass filled with a transparent purple liquid. She took it and gulped it down gracelessly as Rum picked up the other, sipping at it. How does she manage to sound so professional even when she’s joking? Luna wondered, quietly clicking her tongue. The drink was delicious; probably some kind of sweetened grape juice, she surmised.

“I’ve got work elsewhere,” Rum pronounced, setting her glass down with a clink against the tray. “You should get right to it! Familiarize yourself with the new workspace, and all that. If you find yourself looking for something to do, I suggest sorting through some of that glassware and pulling out any that are cracked so I can replace them.” Rum’s wing gestured towards one of the cardboard boxes brimming with various beakers and flasks.

“Got it. And if I finish that?” Luna asked, careful not to sound like she was begging for instruction. The last thing she wanted to do was make Rum think she was some kind of lapdog.

“Oh, I don’t expect to be too long,” Rum reassured, pushing open the door on the opposite side from where they’d entered, leading out into a balcony that led down to ground level. “Feel free to relax if I take too long!” With that, she turned, lab coat drifting in the breeze as the door clicked shut just behind her tail.

Luna let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Impress the boss: check. Mostly, she thought, glancing down at her overzealous attempt at a uniform. Still, she’d survived the tour and was more than ready to dig her paws into the work.

Taking Rum’s advice, Luna spent a few minutes wandering the room. It really was small, only about five paces across in either direction. Tables against three walls held scientific instruments that ranged from weight scales to burners to frightening looking things with pincers and knobs; one cabinet held labelled chemicals, and shelves were covered in random bits and bobs. The fourth wall had a fume hood, which as Rum explained it was basically a bench to work on where any gaseous chemicals would be drawn outside instead of breathed in. Useful. The rest of the room contained more tables covered in what was obviously Rum’s assorted storage. The overall aesthetic was not unlike an unkempt garage.

Still, it was exciting. Luna pictured how it might look in a few weeks: clean tables, bubbling beakers and test tubes, her with lab goggles weighing out pharmaceutical grade chemicals and learning the secrets of alchemy. Sure, the cleaning would suck, but Rum would probably help. Maybe.

She seemed nice enough to, at least… Luna mused, dragging the box of glassware Rum had indicated over to the one clean desk with her chair. She swept the dust off with a quick swipe of her tail, leaving a small trail of glitter in the air behind, and plunked it down. There was a suspicious crunch from the bottom of the box that made Luna wince. Best to be careful in there, then. She opted not to sit so she’d be able to reach the whole desk and got started.

The sorting turned out to be quite relaxing. There were two main types of glass in the box—beakers, large cylinders that came in a variety of sizes all marked in milliliters, and flasks, which had more of a triangular shape with a skinny neck. She sorted these by volume; the rest, assorted pieces with odd forms whose purpose she didn’t fully glean, were instead placed at one end of the table and sorted by shape. Anything cracked or chipped went beside those.

All in all, it was easy, light work. Yet, Luna still felt a crick in her neck that only grew worse as she sorted. Nearly at the bottom of the box, she stepped back, rubbing at it. She must have been leaning too far over the table or something. That was something she’d have to be careful of, if she was gonna be working on these short desks for many hours. Perhaps she should have sat down for this. She idly rolled her neck, trying to work out the kinks she’d inadvertently created.

With a strange pop-pop-pop like someone drawing a fingernail up a washboard, Luna’s neck suddenly stretched outwards. She yelped, stumbling backwards and grabbing onto a table, eyes rolling as she felt at herself with her other paw. While she rolled it, her neck had somehow loosened up and stretched. Her paw traced its way up the side to where she thought her chin should have been—then up, up, up until it finally connected. There was at least another… ten, twelve inches of neck there, and what’s more, it had an odd, smooth texture.

Luna tried to keep herself calm. Thirty minutes on the job and she was… doing whatever this was. She couldn’t afford to lose it because her neck decided it wasn’t content with its length, but she also couldn’t afford to panic. She stared down at the ground, and it felt disorienting, the height change making her feel like she was on stilts. It made her already roiling stomach toss even more.

Help. She should get help, right? Right. That seemed… logical. Maybe she could even fix this before Rum came back and no one would be the wiser. It’s not like whatever was happening was her own fault; maybe she’d picked up stray fumes from one of Rum’s alchemical projects, but it’s not like she’d done it on purpose. The only thing Luna had touched was old glassware! She tried taking a deep breath, but her leather bodice felt extra tight, and so she settled on a shallower one, slowly unlocking her vice grip on the table. She’d grab a piece of glassware and head to the doctor just in case, then return. Easy.

She didn’t even make it one step from the table. As soon as Luna’s foot connected with the ground, her rounded hoof-boot’s sole was launched off to the side as it was entirely torn from the body of the shoe. Instead of hoof, an enormous purple paw greeted her, white claws bright against the dark surface. Watching this happen proved ill advised; with her new neck at that angle and the paw’s appearance, Luna lost her balance and tumbled forwards. One thought blazed through her panicked mind: protect the glass.

She hit the table with a thunk as her other leg explosively removed its boot, leaving her with two enormous claws. Fortunately, she was able to fall just so; despite a frightening rattle of glass on wood, she had landed directly in between the flasks and beakers, twisted sideways and wings held in tight. One flask fell over and rolled into another with a quiet tink, but that was all. Crisis averted. Luna sighed with relief.

Of course, she was immediately punished once again for her premature relief as the tightness in her bodice doubled. She gasped, and the sharp intake of air popped the lacing. Her shirt let out a loud, long shrrrriiiiip! as her chest quadrupled in size, bursting forwards in an incredibly uncouth display and utterly ruining her top, barely covering the drastically swollen surface and keeping her semi-decent. It let out an audible glrsh as it bounded forth, shoving her entire carefully-sorted collection of beakers to the floor. It gleamed in the light, and she could see it was covered in scales the same lavender as the rest of her underbelly. Luna winced as every single beaker shattered against the stone. The movement drew her attention to her face. Her normally fluffy, canid snout was shifting, nose hardening into a beak-like structure, light flashing off of it as she twisted. Her unicorn horn seemed to bend backwards, a feeling like mechanical thrumming in her head as it split in two and pulled back over each ear like a more traditional pair of curved horns. The whole experience left her face tingling and sensitive, just like her chest and new paws.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to enjoy it. The table beneath her cracked, crunched, and gave out, sending her to the floor with the rest of the glassware. Amid the smashing, shattering, clattering din, Luna let out a quiet oof as her chest hit the floor. On the bright side, it turned out to be immensely soft, and the scales it was now covered in were quite durable, any stray shards on the ground that were caught underneath simply pressing into her rack. However, as she slammed down onto her oversized chest, she felt an intense heat shock down her spine like someone had pressed a hand into a deeply pleasurable point (or two, in this case) during a massage. With her paws still planted, that shock slammed into the base of her spine and blossomed there, her pants going the way of her boots and shredding themselves along the seams. She flushed a deep maroon as she felt a breeze flow across her rear end—and that deepend to a plum shade as she realized just how much rear end she suddenly had. It was easily twice the size of her cartoonishly plump chest, and it was up in the air and exposed for all the world to see, the moon mark on her hips stretched across far more real estate than it was supposed to.

The heat didn’t end there. It pushed into her tail, and the hairs twisted together, nerves growing out from her rump in a line, forming a thick, scaled tail. The glowing blue and silver-studded mane became small, rounded spikes that trailed down her tail and crawled up her spine, between her wings, which had also consolidated into membranes instead of feathers. She did her best to try and do a self assessment, but feeling at her chest and rear only made the scales flash up her arms, turning them sleek and reptilian like the rest of her.

In only moments, Luna had become a dragon. Not only that, she’d become a dragon of such awesome proportions that she rivalled the biggest women she’d ever seen. Plus she’d just ruined the project her new boss had just asked her to do and an entire piece of furniture in the process. She let out a quiet whine, covering her face with her paws. Her day had been going so well, too.

Just to top it all off, she felt her stomach groan, going the way of her chest and rear end and swelling outwards. She grunted, cupping a paw against it, and was shocked at what felt like a few large rocks knocking against each other somewhere deep inside. Was that… oh god, she was filling up with eggs, wasn’t she? Would she have to lay them? What if she turned back? How many was she gonna get? Were they—

A voice interrupted her thoughts. “I’d ask how long you plan on moping for, but frankly, I’m enjoying the view. So, take your time!”

Luna froze. No. There’s no way. She couldn’t have… “Rum?!”

“That would be me.” The voice came from somewhere behind Luna, where the outside door was. She instinctively tucked her tail downwards, trying to hide at least something of the wide rear end, and that move elicited a laugh. Rum’s voice had the same calm, clear tone, but it was mixed with obvious amusement. Luna’s face burned.

“I, ah, didn’t realize you’d returned…” she mumbled. Her voice felt strange in her muzzle. It came out like she was speaking through porcelain, each vowel bouncing out sharply rather than smoothed together like usual. She wrinkled her nose at the sound.

“Frankly, if you had, I’d be more worried at your current posture,” Rum remarked.

Luna scrambled to her feet. This took quite a bit more effort than usual; she had to plant her paws much farther apart than usual to accomodate for the wide bust, and her legs were entirely different sizes. Not to mention the balance issues caused by having a huge rear end combined with a large dragon tail. Though it was embarrassing, she was glad for the rack and the swollen gut, since it actually balanced her out somewhat. Taking a deep breath, face still colored something like a deep bruise, she turned around to face what she assumed was her soon to be ex-boss.

Rum sat atop a table, smiling slyly. She spun a glass bottle in one paw, legs crossed. Even now, she seemed so natural. It made Luna’s fumbling about feel all the more obvious. She crossed her arms over her chest, shamefully avoiding Rum’s gaze.

“Rum, I—”

“Ah.” Rum held up a finger, tapping the bottle she was toying with against the table. Luna snapped her jaw shut. “I don’t want to hear any apologies.”

Luna nodded, stomach sinking. “I’ll… gather my things, then?” Her voice had some kind of lilt to it, her a’s sounding longer, drawn out. This had to be the record for worst job performance in the history of ever.

Rum, strangely, shook her head. “Now now. I didn’t say leave, did I?”

“No,” Luna gulped, a small spark of hope daring to rekindle itself deep in her chest.

“Exactly. Now, what is the first rule of alchemy, Luna?” Rum slid herself off the table gracefully, picking her way across the floor towards the other dragon. Luna had grown up to match Rum’s height.

“Uh.” That wasn’t the question she’d expected. “Every… action has an equal and opposite reaction?” Yeah, something was definitely wrong with her voice. It was like she’d spontaneously developed an entirely different vocal pattern.

“Not quite. Actually, the first rule of alchemy is this. Don’t,” Rum smirked, reaching out and pulling Luna’s jaw open slightly, pressing her clawed thumb against Luna’s tongue, “put anything in your mouth if you don’t know exactly where it came from.” She drew her claw out, leaving Luna’s forked tongue poking out dumbly, waltzing past her into the wreckage. She moved Luna to the side with a light touch to her hip, and Luna instantly understood why people referred to particularly wide hips as shelves.

Rum settled into Luna’s chair, Luna spinning to face her. She surveyed the mess around her, grinning. “Quite the show, you know.”

“You’re not… disappointed?” Luna probed, wary. Rum waved a paw.

“Please. Dear, this is my junk room. Nearly everything in here was going to get thrown away anyway. Frankly, I’m sad you didn’t destroy more things; I’d pay to watch you use those hips on a few more of my tables.” Rum’s eye glinted, and her nearly predatory grin brought to mind the other thing Luna had heard of the dragon: she was an absolute flirt.

“W-well! I shan’t say I will!” Luna cleared her throat. “I mean, I shan’t… bah. I’ll not be resting on any others.” Why in the world did she sound like that? It was like listening to a fancy butler talk. What part of turning into a dragon made you British?

Rum only snorted. “Shame. I think we both know you’ve been taught your lesson quite thoroughly, though. Why don’t you pick up your mess and we can call it a day?”

“You don’t plan on punishing me?” Luna asked, still confused.

“Of course not, dear. You’re far too cute for that.” Rum leaned the chair back, propping her paws up on the edge of the broken table. Those paws, Luna found, were nearly the exact size and shape of her own new pair. That ignited an emotion deep in her gut that she was afraid to explore. It made her stomach grumble, and she let out a small burp of multicolored flames, much to Rum’s amusement.

“Ah. O-okay.” Luna cringed at her lame response, but it was all she could manage through the haze of emotions.

Rum waved a paw at the ground. “Your first real job is cleaning up all this. Soon as you’re done, you can head out for the day. Deal?”

“Um. Deal.”

“Great. Broom’s over there, dear.” Rum gestured once more, then placed her arms behind her head, staring. Luna did the only thing she could do: she got to work.

As it turned out, the job really wasn’t too bad, if she ignored her boss’s piercing gaze. Luna swept the glass into piles, using a dustpan on a long handle to pick it up and dump it into a designated waste container she hadn’t noticed before but was obviously placed there intentionally, looking back. She’d knocked over a few other instruments with her tail; those she righted and rearranged slightly. As she swept, she tried a few times to mumble to herself; each and every time, she found that she unconsciously stretched her vowels, ended her words in clipped tones, and it took real effort to say a bit instead of a tad. It was like her whole demeanor had shifted and she was talking like the London elite. At least she’d have time to explore further later.

Even as she cleaned, Luna grew more used to the excessive sizes. Encumbering at first, she found that she could work around the large chest, albeit with low visibility. She didn’t even mind bumping her hips into tables, though it happened nearly every time she turned. She got better as she moved, though each brush against her enlarged assets still brought significant heat to her scales. In just a few minutes, the only thing left was the table.

As she leaned over to grab one side of the splintered mess, Rum stood. “I think that’s enough cleaning for now, Luna, dear.”

Luna looked up, bemused. “You asked me to clean, then tell me not to?” It was a far bolder statement then she should have made, but she was just about at her wit’s end at this point. Oddly, though, Rum seemed to approve of the push-back, wrapping an arm over Luna’s shoulders and walking her towards the doorway.

“As much as I’d enjoy watching you bend over, I wouldn’t ask a mother with an expecting brood to do such heavy labor!” Rum scoffed, sounding incredulous. Her tail snaked around Luna’s hips, the tip resting atop her belly that had burst straight through her poor ruined bodice.

“Th-that’s not my fault!” Luna squawked, pointedly shoving the tail away.

“Mine either!” Rum laughed. “I slipped you a simple draconic alteration potion, darling. The particulars are up to your own biology.”

“My own…” Luna looked at Rum, confused.

“Yes, dear, your genes are telling you that had you been born a dragon, you would have made an exceptionally potent broodmother. An oddly English one, at that.”

“That… that’s preposterous! I mean, I’m simply… simply not built like such a thing!” Luna argued.

Rum pointedly looked directly down into her exposed cleavage. “I think your body begs to differ.”

“Then change me back! I can’t work looking like some manner of… of dragon floozy!” Luna shrieked.

“Actually, if you’ll check the contract you signed, it stipulates quite clearly that I’d be hiring a dragon!” Rum shot back. “Whether or not that dragon is a floozy is optional, though goodness knows it would make her quite entertaining to watch. Yes, I fear you’ll be scaled for the duration of your employment with me.”

Luna’s mouth dropped open. There’s no way, that can’t be legal. Her mind raced, trying to think of an argument. Arriving at the door, Rum popped it open, then turned Luna towards herself.

“Listen, Luna. You made the cut here. Don’t blow your chance now; I’d hate to be down such a pretty assistant.” Before Luna could say anything, she reached under her lab coat, pulling out a slip of paper and a coin purse. She reached around Luna’s side and tucked the paper into her waistband, making her shudder from the tips of her membranous wings all the way down her tail. “That’s a to-do list for tonight. I expect it to be completed by morning. And this,” Rum said, hefting the coin bag, “is for you to go buy yourself a few new outfits. Consider it a signing bonus. You’re gonna need it if you want to get anything big enough to cover that dragon ass of yours.” Instead of handing it to Luna, she pulled the drawstring open and dumped the coins straight into her cleavage. The cold metal made her yelp, back arching and causing her shirt to tear even further, boobs threatening total devastation.

With that, Rum pushed Luna out the door and closed it behind her, calling out “Happy laying!” as she did. The door bumped against her butt as it snapped shut. The cool air made her heated chest steam. Luna stood there, wings flared, tail tip twitching. Never in a million years would she have expected her first day on the job to go like that. And yet, she actually found herself excited to go back. She was even mentally planning out a new outfit she could wear to work tomorrow. I must have given myself brain damage, she thought, astounded.

Luna was determined to make this job succeed. If that meant living as a cartoonishly busty British dragoness, well… maybe she could live with that. She’d decide after she laid her first clutch, maybe. God, I really am insane, she sighed, surreptitiously bouncing her chest with her paws. Yeah… yeah, she could get used to that. Riding that decision, Luna turned her attention to the nearby market, heading off to buy a new outfit. This was going to be a fun one to relate to her tailor.

#writing wyrms #tf #transformation #dragon tf #dragon transformation #my writing #my stuff #language alteration TF #rum #dragon alchemist #idk what else to put here. it really is as simple as “she turns into a dragon with big boobs” y'all #actualhorseprincess #TF tuesday

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the-fluff-piece · 2 years ago

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You are Law's blorbo

Short, sfw fem!reader x trafalgar law

You read that right! YOU look exactly like a character from Law's favourite comic. A character he is absolutely into.

Like this one? Check out my masterist

Law has travelled with the straw hats and you for a little while now, first from Punk Hazard to Dress Rosa, now to Zou. You were neither unnerving nor absolutely insane, so he was very content with ignoring you - until one afternoon, when you sat on deck, reading. Your hair was bound in a high ponytail and you had your glasses on, wearing a casual outfit consisting of a shirt and trousers.

When he saw you he was surprised, shocked - excited? He couldn't place this feeling. Like a long gone memory that was just out of reach. It made him mad, like an itch he couldn't scratch. He went to bed agitated that night, settling in for an unpleasant night full of confusing dreams. When he woke up the next morning, there were only fragments left in his mind. You, with your glasses and ponytail talking to...Sora? Warrior of the sea? Something clicked. He remembered.

There had been a reporter that wrote about Sora's great adventures. She was hot. Law's face was burning now. The reporter...he had stared at the panels containing her for hours. She was beautiful, smart and fierce. His fictional crush, that looked exactly like you.

Breakfast was...hard. He wasn't sure anymore how to act around you, involuntarily staring. His mind was taken over by the childish fantasies he had when he was a boy.

He waited until everyone had scattered, to catch you alone. Luckily, you chose to wander around deck alone. Behind the trees, he caught you. It was like in his fantasies. He was a bad pirate with a huge bounty, she was more of a scholar than a fighter. In his head, he would catch her, and while in his grasp, they would fall in love. Enemies to lovers.

His heart raced as he caught up and with a swift movement, blocked your way with his arm.

You

After breakfast, all you wanted was some piece and quiet, and you hoped you would find it in the shadow of the tangerines.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice anyone following you - until you heard steps. And incredibly fast, he moved in front of you, crashing his hand into the wood of the ship, stopping you dead in your tracks. Reflexively, you wanted to step back, but his other hand appeared just as quickly. You turned to face him. A wicked grin spread across his face.

"Finally, I caught you" you heard his deep voice whisper. "Has anyone ever told you how irresistible you are" he continued and licked his lips. He didn't leave time for you to answer - his hand pulled your chin up. Moving closer, he kissed you very softly and drew back with a happy sigh. You felt his hands on you, gliding over every curve, greedily staring. Holding you, cupping your ass, he kissed you again, kissed a trail down your neck and over your collarbone, moaning happily.

Eventually, his mouth moved back to your ear to whisper: "I have some things I want to do to you..."

I bet little Law has a lot of dirty fantasies for his blorbo 😏

Now that you've read the whole thing, let me know in comments and reblogs what you thought! I am always happy to read from you!

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #law x reader #law x y/n #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d. water law

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whore-era · 2 years ago

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1k event: interview with ellie williams

☁︎ HAPPY 1K LOVES!!! i got this idea from @collegecraze as she does 'interviews' with characters of her game on her patreon and i thought it'd be funny to do my own with our very own angry lesbian <3 she's canon-typical in this interview! ☁︎ tw: alcohol usage, some sexual discussion but nothing too explicit

ellie: hello...is this thing on?

you: please...ellie...we're live.

ellie: oh we are?? sorry..

you: it's no problem! anyways....intro track plays...welcome to frankie's podcast! where we interview YOUR favorite 2D video game characters! and i'm your host!

ellie: what do you mean by 2D vide-

you: tonight, we have our favorite angry, murdering lesbian, ellie williams!!

cue round of applause

ellie: yea, sup.

you: so, ellie, tell us a little bit about yourself.

ellie: uhh, i'm ellie. i'm 19. i'm a part of the small community in jackson— lover of weed and space.

you: so you don't live with dina and jj anymore?

ellie: nah- wait, how'd you know that?

you: not important. so...you're single?

ellie: yeah but, look, i'm not looking for anything serious.

you: okay, okay, how about something casual?

ellie: yeah, sure, whatever. why are you asking me these questions? you said you needed help finding your dog when you dragged me away.

you: ......look, i needed an excuse to get you to agree to my interview. anyways! ya heard it hear folks, ellie is looking for something casual. *wink*

ellie: ...okay...

you: okay, ellie! next topic. do you think you'd ever get over dina?

ellie: uh...well...— do i have to talk about this?

you: yes. think of this as a therapy session.

ellie: well, i'm not sure. we went through a lot together and..i thought we were gonna be together forever, you know? but she doesn't really understand why i had to leave.

you: i'm sorry. must've been tough, how are you holding up?

ellie: i'm pulling through. traveling by myself is weirdly..therapeutic.

you: right, and you're travelling to california to find...abby, correct?

ellie: *cringes* yeah.. her.

you: and how do you feel about abby anderson?

ellie: i mean, i didn't kill her. that says something, right? but i just— i just can't get over what she— what she— i'm sorry...excuse me.

you: okay, frankie, take us to commercial break please.

"i'm sorry, ellie. i think we started the show off with a sensitive topic," you say, rubbing her back soothingly.

"it's fine, it's fine. she's not something i wanna talk about right now, anyways. we can talk about other things," ellie murmurs. you take the initiative to wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a hug. you feel her tense in your arms, before she relaxes and wraps her arms around your waist.

"ready to continue?" you ask, and she nods, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"yeah."

you: welcome back to frankie's podcast! we're still here with our favorite sapphic!!

cue intro track

you: so, ellie, how would you feel answering some questions from our lovely viewers?

she shrugs.

ellie: i'm down.

you: perfect! our first question is....'what makes you truly happy? where is your happy place?

ellie: hmmm....i think i'd have to say the museum of science and history in wyoming. uh, i like thinking of the memories i had there, with joel.

ellie has a small smile upon her lips.

you: how sweet. i'm sure joel is up there, thinking of all the memories you guys had together.

ellie nods, but you couldn't help but notice the sad glimmer in her eyes.

you: okay! second question, let me read this one. oh! uh— are you a top or bottom?

ellie chokes on her water, the liquid dribbling down her chin.

ellie: huh? what??

you: it's what the people want to know.

ellie: uh— i prefer being on top.

you let out a nervous cough.

you: good to know.

you were about to ask the next question until you see the producer, frankie, walk over to you both with two shot glasses.

frankie: okay, cuties, here's a shot of tequila, specifically casamigos reposado. think you both should loosen up a little bit.

you: can i get a chaser?

frankie: yea, sure, how 'bout you, ellie?

ellie shakes her head.

ellie: nah, i'm good.

frankie: 'kay, tough guy.

frankie leaves and shortly comes back with a coke, handing it to you and retreating back to her post.

you pop open the can, holding it in one hand, with the shot glass in the other.

you: cheers?

ellie: cheers.

she clinks the glass against yours, then downing the shot in one gulp. you gulp yours in one swallow, chasing it with the soda right after.

you: whew, that was nice.

ellie: yea, sure takes the edge off.

you: okay, next question. what is your ideal partner?

ellie: hmm...let me think. maybe someone who's really funny and smart too— not like book smart, but just smart. someone who i can really get along with, like a best friend.

you: how sweet.

ellie: yeah, i am.

you: ..okay, moving on. ass or ti-

ellie: ass.

you: you sound confident about that answer.

ellie: 'cause i love ass.

ellie narrows her eyes at you, and you look away, clearing your throat.

you: next question. do you love lana del rey?

ellie: ....who's that?

you: according to google, she's this indie rock singer. we could listen to one of her songs from her new album?

ellie: yeah, lets do that.

frankie hits a track, and music begins to play throughout the studio.

the track stops as the song comes to an end.

you: so, what'd you think?

ellie: first of all, she's hot as fuck. second of all, i could get down to her songs, s'not usually what i listen to but 's a pretty song.

you: yup, the bad bitches listen to lana.

frankie: my good friend, kittie, loves lana, ellie! i should give her your number!!

ellie turned, not hearing what the producer was yelling.

ellie: huh?

you: MOVING ON. how do you feel about pillow princesses?

ellie: love 'em. they're cute as fuck.

you: they are indeed. how would you feel knowing about a 1/3 of your fanbase are pillow princesses?

ellie: seriously?

you nod.

ellie: ....shit.

ellie smirks and relaxes against the cushion of the chair, manspreading her legs, the chemicals of the alcohol she consumed before taking affect on her brain.

you swallow thickly, wiping a bead of sweat, and reading the next question on the page.

you: okay, next question. what's your workout regimen?

ellie: uhh. don't really have one. running for you life and fighting infected with the strength of a powerlifter certainly helps.

you: that's it?

ellie: what do you expect me to say? i lift six out of seven days of the week and drink raw egg yolks?

you: okay...don't need to be so sassy. jeez.

she looks at you, and laughs, shaking her head.

ellie: what a brat.

you: .....are you trying to flirt with me?

ellie: and so, what if i am?

you: feeling confident now, are we?

ellie: the alcohol helped a little bit.

frankie: kids! keep it professional!

you: right, right. ahem, ellie. how do you feel so far? being on the show?

ellie: definitely feel more comfortable. the alcohol and the pretty host interviewing me helped a bunch.

you: me? y-you think i'm pretty?

ellie: yea, of course.

you: you're not too bad yourself.

ellie: yeah? wanna get out of here after this? get another drink?

you: we can leave right now, if you want to.

ellie: hell, yeah.

the both of you get up from your chairs, retreating backstage.

frankie: hey! you guys! we have to finish!!

frankie sighs, knowing you both were already on your way to leave the studio.

frankie: i don't even think she can legally drink here!!! oh christ.

frankie picks up the mic.

frankie: well! that's all, folks! and i wanna say thank you for 1k! hopefully next time we'll have ellie again, accompanied by abby anderson!

ellie peeks out from the curtain.

ellie: WHAT?!

frankie: goodnight, everyone!

a/n: let me know how yall like this concept :P and how i can adjust! love u bbs

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #Spotify

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writingamongther0ses · 10 months ago

Text

Cooking for Jasper

Summary: Damien, despite his bickering with him, gets concerned when the bartender at his favorite pub starts acting weird.

A commission for @fayejing9251 starring their cool characters!

-_-

There were a lot of great reasons to play at the Rathole.

Despite its name, the place was a classy joint, with decent food and drinks. Kinda hipstery, but nothing Damien minded too much, especially with the crowds that came to Open Mic Night. There were a lot of people willing to play with him and people willing to ask for more. Damien was certain that he could start a band here.

Except for one thing.

"Hey, Basil," he said, swaggering up to the bar, heart still staggering from the feeling of being on stage, playing his heart out. The bartender glanced at him, raising a brow. Damien could admit that Basil was his type, with a calm but friendly smile and sparkling eyes, which was only helped by his nice outfit. However, his personality… "Mind if I get my usual?"

Basil's face scrunched up in immediate disgust. "Please, for the love of whatever God is out there, get something else."

Damien shook his head. "Absolutely not." Basil was a bit of a priss in his eyes, and nothing showed it more like this. He could not handle the idea of someone not wanting his fancy whiskey or cognac or even wine. "Moonshine. The strongest kind."

"I hope you drop dead this time," Basil said in a perfect deadpan as he turned, moving away to grab a small jug. He glanced at Damien, who cocked a brow before Basil groaned and pulled out the cork. "You should, from the smell alone. I know I want to."

The moonshine- classic bathroom swill from Prohibition that was nearly a century old, made by his grandfather, according to Basil- was strong enough to smell like jet fuel. He could practically hear people's nose hairs burn from the smell. He simply took in a deep breath and bit back a laugh at Basil's face.

Basil wasted no time in grabbing a glass and pouring barely enough moonshine in. There was routine by now. He pushed it to Damien, who nodded in thanks and grabbed the glass. Without a second for his hindbrain to reconsider, Damien threw back the glass, swallowing down a decent amount.

Basil shuddered. "That's disgusting."

Damien felt a chuckle come out as he set the glass down. "It's fun, stuck up." He held back the fact that Basil's reactions were part of the fun.

"Pig," Basil shot back before turning to another customer, his classy smile returning as he started to prepare a margarita. Damien chuckled as he continued to sip his moonshine.

Their routine was common by now. While Damien enjoyed all the reactions Basil gave to him and his general taste towards drinks, it could get annoying. Basil clearly had his nose in his air and didn't care about what others thought or even liked.

And Damien was content with that annoyance and driving him nuts with the moonshine.

Until the day he ran into him at the bookstore.

His boss had ordered some manuals about repairing some classic cars and had them dropped off at the store. Damien had been the grease monkey who drew the short straw to run down and get them. (He wasn't sure exactly why his boss needed the manuals; it wasn't like there were a lot of classic cars in town, but he liked his job too much to question it).

PLEASE DON'T LET THE DOOR SLAM, PEOPLE ARE READING!

Slam went the door. Damien walked on without a care for the glare of the cashier, heading down the hallway to the book pick-up. He barely noticed the blur that turned the corner until-

"What the-"

"OOF!"

Damien fell down on his butt, wincing at the strike of pain that shot up his spine. "Hey, watch where you're going- Basil?"

He almost didn't recognize the bartender without his classy bartender outfit. Instead, he was wearing a more casual but still classy cream sweater and nice jeans. Basil jolted at his voice, looking up and revealing those eyes. His face scrunched up without a moment to waste. "Oh, of course, you're here."

"Yeah, yeah, good to see you too." Damien knelt and reached for the papers that was now scattered across the floor. Sure, he was annoyed, but he wasn't a total jerk. However, he pulled his hands away at the stinging sensation. "Did... did you just slap my hand away?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Damien was tempted to just get up and leave Basil to it, but the bartender he knew didn't slap people's hands away. Basil was too well-behaved to slap hands away. Whatever got him like this, well, Damien was curious. "What are you getting-?"

"Leave it," Basil ordered, grabbing the paper he had attempted to grab. It wasn't fast enough to not notice what was on it.

"Are you looking up how to cook?"

"Leave it," Basil repeated in a tone that said his teeth were gritted. He scooped up the rest of the papers, holding them tight like Damien was going to try and make a grab for them.

"Can't you cook? Isn't that part of running the Rathole?"

Basil opened his mouth, closed it after a second or two, and his shoulders got even more tense somehow. "I'm a bartender, Damien," he gritted out. "Not a cook. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be." Without another word, Basil moved past him, not even looking back.

Damien felt a brow raise as he watched Basil march away. "That was weird," he said out loud. He had never seen Basil so on guard. Sure, he kept an eye out to ensure nobody roofied someone and keep creeps from bothering anyone, but he always seemed to be having fun too. (Excluding their whole moonshine routine.)

"Yeah, he's been like that for weeks," the person at the drop-off desk called.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," they said, taking the order slip Damien offered and starting to stack the books on the desk. "He came in here all abuzz asking about books about mental health since the library didn't have enough, and now he's reading all these cooking books. He keeps ordering more and reserving even more at the library."

Huh. Damien would just brush off the cooking stuff as someone trying to improve or gain a skill, but the mental health stuff and the frantic nature of it all waved a red flag of something being up. Tonight wasn't an open mic night, so he usually wouldn't go to the Rathole, but his curiosity- and mild concern- was eating at him.

Hopefully, skill improving was all Basil was doing.

-_-

The Rathole opened at seven and got busy at seven thirty.

So, at five thirty, Damien was there.

"Oh, hello!" Basil called from his usual spot, sounding more frazzled than his usual charming greeting. "Apologies, but we're currently closed- you."

Damien, however, couldn't even respond. His eyes were locked on the person sitting across the bar.

"You have a kid?"

The kid's shoulders hiked up, his long hair hiding his expression. Basil was the one to speak up with a flat "He's twenty-one, dude."

Damien blinked, uncertain of how to react, both at Basil using dude and the kid. "Oh, uh... Sorry, kid." He couldn't help it, he just felt bad. He wasn't sure why, but the kid had an air like the entire world was pushing him to the edge.

"...it's fine." The words were almost unheard.

Basil didn't seem to think so, based on how he straightened. "Damien, can I talk to you?" He managed a nod. "In private."

Before he could even nod again, Basil jumped over the bar, grabbed his wrist, and yanked him behind the bar and into the kitchen. Dirty dishes were already waiting to be cleaned, despite the fact that he knew Basil was particular enough to have every dish cleaned before the bar closed, and it had a heavy smell of garlic and tomato mixed with something burnt. It also had a window, revealing the view of the kid picking at a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

"What are you doing here?" the bartender said, drawing back his attention. He looked frazzled, with messy hair and an undone tie. "I know you don't really respect authority, but this is ridiculous."

It was dumb and normally he would deny it to his grave, but Damien said it out loud. "I was worried about you."

"Seriously? That's your excuse?"

"It's not an excuse," Damien could understand why that was Basil's first thought, but he had to be honest. "You were acting weird about the whole cooking thing, and someone said you were getting resources about mental health, so I wanted to make sure you weren't having, I dunno, a breakdown or something."

"They were for Jasper."

"Who- Oh." Damien glanced back. At least one meatball was gone. "Right, yeah. Who is he? Is he related to you?"

Basil shook his head. "Uh, no. He was homeless, and I took him in." He took in a deep breath and looked around. "Are you going to repeat what I said to anyone?" Damien shook his head. "Okay. So his dad died, and, I'm still not sure what happened, but he ended up homeless, and he has really bad depression. At least, that's what I think he has? He's just in a really bad mental spot, and I remember being like that, so I wanted to help him, and I figure that since he cooked with his dad, I could try that-" Basil's fingers dug into his hair. "Except I can't cook and I managed to set the ceiling on fire-!"

Ah. That would explain the burnt smell and the scorch mark he could now see.

Damien's heart gave a squeeze, and, nope, he would ignore that for now. Right now, Basil looked to be on the verge of panic. This was an entirely new side to the bartender, and Damien wasn't sure what to do. "-and I figured that this could give me some kind of purpose, but I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm gonna fuck this up-!"

"I can teach you."

Basil blinked, eyes going wide with hope. "...Really?" He squinted, the hope fading from his eyes. "Why?"

Damien shrugged, trying to keep a visibly cool exterior. He didn't really understand why he offered. "For the kid, I guess. Plus, I owe you for the moonshine."

"You can take the whole thing if you want. I literally just started selling it to get it out of my apartment- Never mind." Basil eyed him. "You really want to help?"

"For the kid's sake, of course."

Basil nodded. "Of course. I guess..." He held out his hand. "Fine."

"Fine." Damien took his hand and shook it.

Yes, Basil was a snob who didn't understand people had other tastes. But he was a good man. Damien was willing to learn more about him as they worked together to help Jasper.

#my writing #short story #fiction #cw: mentions of suicidal nature

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