#Not a single brain cell was left in my head

[mochinomnoms]

Two's Company, Three's a Crowd, and Six is a Riot

i. thievin’, stealin’, takin’ what’s not yours

[wc} - 6,835

[notes] - hehe

make a choice at the end...

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i. thievin’, stealin’, takin’ what’s not yours

Listen to: "Taking What's Not Yours" and "Lovers Rock" by TV Girl

After learning who your friend Hornton really was, people would expect you to be a bit more formal with him. 

After all, they could excuse your lax demeanor and loose words with him due to your unfamiliarity with the Wonderland’s political and royal spectrum. 

But now knowing exactly who is the Malleus Draconia, the heir prince of Briar Valley, did not stop you, and quite frankly no one should be surprised. 

You were his friend, first and foremost, and Malleus believed that fact with all his heart. You both did have to admit that it was very funny seeing everyone’s reactions to your casualness and affections to each other. 

Though Malleus was much more reserved compared to you, anyone with eyes and a single functioning brain cell could see that he was ever so gentle with you. 

He hung on to your every word like it was rapture, fascinated with your stories of home and humans, even if you weren’t like the humans of his world. 

Especially because you weren’t like the humans of his world. 

In turn, you were attentive to him, ensuring that you spent your time with him to the fullest. Maybe it was because he was your friend, or maybe you also knew what it was like to be lonely, but you loved outings with him. 

It could be nightly walks in the woods near Ramshackle, it could be sharing a new flavor of ice cream with the same spoon, or it could be the words that only you two and the stars over the Diasomnia dorm shared. 

In any case, you two were most endeared to each other.

It’s why no one was surprised anymore as you hanged off his arm as you two and Grim walked to his next class. It was actually quite comical, the way you swing your arms together, hands clasped, as you talked his ear off about your last class. 

And from the small upward twitches of his ears and the small smile on his face, Malleus was absolutely basking in your attention. And amused by the swinging.

“And then I was like, ‘no Ace, I told you to not put the nightshade in the potion you chuckle-fuck, it’s gonna turn into goo’ but he was all like,” You mocked Ace’s voice as you continued, ‘I’m the one with the magic, so I’m the one that knows what they hell they’re doing’” 

You were laughing as you told the story, the corner of your eyes crinkling. You both ignored the looks of students walking past you, giving you (Malleus, mostly) a wide berth of space. Once even gave you a look as they noticed your hands together. 

“Then, like I told him, it turned into goop, right before a big ol’ bubble formed and popped all over him! He was covered in green, it was hilarious.”

A soft snort left you as you covered your mouth to quiet your laughter. The swinging relaxed,as you climbed up the steps to the castle. Malleus tilted his head, eyes softening as you looked at Grim padding to your right, rambling as well. 

“Nyah! That big dumb-dumb is always underestimating me, I only pick the best of the best for my henchmen!”

“Snrk—you tell ‘em, Grim.” You gave Malleus an amused look, gesturing for him to lean in closer to whisper, “He also wanted to put the nightshade in the mix, by the way.”

Chuckling and straightening to his full height, your friend’s smile faded into something more concerned, eyeing Grim, who decided to speed up and pad up the steps by twos. 

“While it is ideal that nothing more happened, perhaps you should encourage your companions to exercise more caution, I’d rather not hear from a third party of your harm if something were to happen.”

You felt his hand in yours tighten, tugging to closer to his side as he gave you a stern look. 

“I know that you aren’t afraid of me. But with all the troubles you seem to get into…I’m starting to become afraid…of losing you.”

You think you could feel your breath hitch and a warmth flood your face, as you looked away, flustered at the fuzzy feeling in your chest. Instead, you turned your gaze back to Grim to watch as he hopped between rectangle to rectangle, avoiding the lines. 

“You worry too much! I got Grim!” You cupped a hand over your mouth and called out, “Right Grim?”

“Huh? Yeah! Whatever you say, I’m the Great Grim!” 

Both of you choked a laugh as he tripped over a rock and fell on his face. Finally letting go of Malleus’s hand (you missed the way he flexed his hand from the missing warmth) and jogging to your now whining direbeast.

“Owie!! (Naaaaame)! I’ve been fatally injured! Tend to me, henchhuman!”

You scooped up Grim, who was licking his wrist like a wounded kitten. Turning back to Malleus, you gave him an apologetic smile and gestured towards the main castle doors with your head. 

“We have a lot of time until class, so I’m going to go to the infirmary just to make sure he isn’t actually hurt.”

“Hey!”

 Malleus nodded in understanding, using a curled finger to pet the top of Grim’s head, who begrudgingly leaned in to the touch.

“Of course, I should get to my own classroom, I’d hate to be late.”

“Hornton, it’s like 45 minutes until class starts.”

“Exactly, I have such little time to make it to the room. My seat might be taken.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that most people wouldn’t show up until 5 or so minutes before class. 

“What do you even have that makes ya want to show up so early?” Grim questioned, not particularly aware of the way you were cradling him like a baby. 

Malleus’s eyes glinted in amusement as he gave Grim a polite smile. 

“It’s an advanced Ancient Magic course, and though I find myself already familiar with most of the topics we cover, today we are discussing looking glasses.”

You and Grim both made a confused noise, tilting your head in opposite directions. 

“Like, a mirror?”

Shaking his head, Malleus looked unusually eager to explain the concept. 

“Not exactly, though they are a type of magic mirror. A looking glass is a tool used to view one's potential futures. It requires a ritual to turn a regular mirror into a tool and is rather difficult.”

You could feel Grim’s tail whip against you in excitement as you both listened eagerly.

“Only the most powerful of mages can successfully complete the ritual, and only lasts for 72 hours before the glass shatters beyond repair. I am particularly interested in using it to—”

“I’M POWERFUL! I WANNA TRY IT TOO!”

Grim jumped from your arms into a surprised Malleus, his ‘injury’ apparently healed at the thought of being able to complete a complicated and powerful spell. 

“Let me join the class! The Great Grim can’t wait for two more years to try it out! Please, please, pleeeeeease!”

“Grim! Don’t bother Hornton with such silly—”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be a bother to have you two assist me.” Malleus hummed, tapping a finger to his lips as he held Grim from the scruff of his neck, dropping him back in your arms. 

“I usually find myself without a partner in this class, I would greatly enjoy the company.”

Grim squirmed excitedly in your arms, grasping your cheeks and squeezing as he jumped excitedly. 

“Come on henchhuman! We can skip homeroom! It’s not like we’re missing anything, it turns into study hall anyways! Can we go? Pleeeeease?”

He would hate it if you called him cute out loud, but Grim was such a cute little guy sometimes.

“Mm, I guess we can…but only if we actually get to do stuff,” You wrinkled your nose in frustration. “Last time we joined 3rd year classes, Leona just used me to hide behind and nap, and the other time Vil kept taking stuff out of my hands instead of letting me do stuff.” 

Malleus chuckled, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Of course, I always value you and your words, my little beastie.”

Hmm, ‘little beastie’ is a new one.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, lazily skimming the book Malleus had left you to review as he was pulled away by the professor into the hallway. 

The professor had muttered something about missing housewarden meetings, and you're pretty sure you saw a glimpse of Riddle’s bright hair at the door before it closed. 

Riddle and Vil’s been complaining that Hornton hasn’t shown up to most of the meetings this year, maybe Riddle actually came to collect him this time.

At the thought of the two, you moved your hand up to fiddle with the tie around your next and smacked your lips, the raspberry flavored lip oil briefly meeting your tongue. 

The tie had been Riddle’s, even still had the little crown on the left side, when he fussed over the raggy state of your old one. He’d insisted that he had plenty and showed you how he tied the bow with a red flush in his cheeks. Very cute, but you’d never say that to his face. 

Vil’s lip oil you’re pretty sure was a pity gift, something he was sent in a PR package. He told you he wasn’t a fan of flavored lip products, but still needed to do a review of the products he’d been sent. Thus, Vil used you as a test dummy for his video review, leaving your lips feeling raw and dry from being constantly rubbed clean by make up wipes. Though, he told you to keep that specific oil, and said it suited your skin tone. 

Now that you really think about it, a lot of the students had been rather…you don’t know. Doting? Sweet? Ever so slightly less mean to you as of late? 

Especially the ones who overblotted this last few months. 

You’re pretty sure you’ve been getting pity gifts, even they can feel guilty of all the trouble they’d put you in.

Some you’re pretty sure was just their way of paying you off without explicitly saying, “Look I’m sorry I almost killed you, but you're stupid for getting involved as a magicless student and I feel bad now take this.”

Idia had taken your cheap phone that Crowley gave you and upgraded it so that it had more functionality to it that wasn’t just sending an S.O.S. signal to your friends. He’d even put it in a clear case that held a dangling blue skull charm, which swung against you when it was in your pocket. 

Leona tossed you one of his made beaded bracelets after you’d complained about Crowley cutting your funding again, leaving you with little to use for repairs and food. He told you to sell it or something and to shut up, as he was trying to take a nap. Never mind that it was your couch he’d decided to sleep on and not one of his usual spots around campus. In any case, it looked nice on your wrist, and it was good for a rainy day in case you did have to sell it.

Azul had also offered you a bracelet a while back, a very pretty lilac one that he told you was made of sea glass. You were wary to take anything from Azul in fear that he’d find a way to put you in debt. Very valid in your opinion, but it literally got shoved onto your wrist when Floyd held you down and Jade slipped in on with a smile. Apparently it had a protection spell tied to it, as Azul mentioned that you were overly prone to chaos. All it cost you was him checking in once a week to see how it held up, you think maybe to sell more in the future?

At least Jamil’s silk wrap wasn’t forcibly shoved into you, though you didn’t appreciate his comments on how unruly your hair was in the mornings. You told him that it wasn’t your fault that water at Ramshackle sucked and that you did your best! It wasn’t enough according to him, and he helped you wrap your hair into the silk cloth to protect it against the elements. While he’d originally suggested that you use it to sleep in, you’d taken to using it for everyday wear, using it as a wrap, as a bandana, even as a headband. Jamil sometimes looked both pleased and frustrated at the sight. 

Pity gifts, you’re sure. 

Ace thought otherwise, though, he and Epel teased you constantly about it. How ‘soft’ and ‘sweet’ they were to you, how you should take advantage and flirt back with them to get a well-off boyfriend out of them. 

No matter how much you insisted that it wasn’t like that, none of your friends believe you. Even Deuce and Jack seemed to doubt your explanations, though Sebek at least stayed out of it.

Ortho was the worst of them, though. “I’ve noticed that at times, their heart rates increase when they’re around you, so Ace might have a point!” which was quickly followed up with, “But you focus on Idia, he’s the most ideal!”

Then it turned into a whole thing of them arguing who would be the best or worst boyfriend for you to get with. Why they were invested in your nonexistent love life, you don’t know, probably boredom and a need to gossip. 

You sighed, eyeing one of the sigils in the book in front of you. Grim was looking at another book, surprisingly focused on reading the words on the pages. 

“Hmph, I don’t get any of this, when is Hornton coming back! I’m getting bored, it’s too hard to understand!”

Pouting, Grim slumped against the desk and made a soft, whiny sigh. 

“Henchhuman, tell me you found something interesting?”

Thumbing through the book in front of you, you noticed a rather fascinating sigil accompanied by some foreign writing along the edges.

It looked a lot like the magic mirror, though the edges were reminiscent of vines and the inside of the sigil looked cracked, like someone smashed the mirror with a hammer. Surrounding the image was an intricate cursive, it looked like some fae script.

“Hmm, this one looks cool. Think you can read that?”

Grim eyed the page you were on, ears perking up as he noticed the infographics on the right. It looked like a visual guide on how to complete the ritual on a mirror. 

“Oh, can I draw that! I wanna try by myself! We don’t need Hornton!” Grim pushed the small handheld mirror that the students had as part of the class assignment.

“Do it!” 

“What? No Grim, these aren’t our materials. Wait for him to come back and ask if you can practice.”

You snatched the mirror away from Grim’s paws, tucking it underneath a different book, and then resting your elbow on top for extra measure. 

“Just wait Grim.”

Not unlike a child not getting their way, he stomped his foot and started throwing a tantrum. 

“I wanna do it! Let me do it! Lemme! Lemmelemmelemmelemmelemmelemme—”

“—Oh. My. God. If I let you draw and practice on my hand, will you quiet down?”

The small creature pouted, eyeing the open palm you offered. 

“...But the book says I need a mirror…”

“Well, the book doesn’t buy and serve you tuna, does it?” You snapped back, raising your brows and moving your hand closer. “Now, I’ll help you practice, but not with Hornton’s materials. Who knows how expensive or rare they are.”

With an indignant sigh and a roll of his eyes, Grim plopped himself on the desk and took your hand in his paws.

“Fine. Gimme a pen!”

You smiled, shuffling through your pen case to look for something he could use. 

“Hmm, I only got pencils and a permanent marker…meh, whatever.”

Handing Grim a black marker, and him eagerly taking it and scribbling the sigil, you stared around the classroom, dazing off. 

The class was already sparse, and you’re pretty sure Vil, Leona, and Idia were meant to be here too, so that made it feel even more empty. Though…the last two probably wouldn’t have even shown up. 

Rook was here, though, conversing with his own class partner as they gestured over their own mirror and textbooks. Nothing escaped his attention, though, as he looked up and noticed you staring almost immediately. 

He gave you a close eye smile and wave, before noticing Grim drawing on your hand and tilting his head in curiosity.

You shrugged and mouthed out the page you two were on. Rook took a moment to flip to the page you were on, confusing his partner. Watching in mild interest, Grim let out a little triumphant sound, drawing your attention once again. 

“Finished! I’m so great at drawing!” You’ll give him the benefit of the doubt since your skin wasn’t flat like a mirror, but it barely passed for the sigil in the book. 

“Great job, Grim, now practice your pronunciation.”

“Okie-dokie!”

Grim still held your palm in his paws, reading off the

“G-ge d'afr-fr-frm-ah-ys hmrian…od…sarl…lo-loysalri-que—no—cu cast!”

You chuckled as Grim struggled to pronounce the words, not paying attention to the sudden squeaking of a chair.

“Turn xiyaurrrr…day-na-r-yo…su liie xi-yie vast! Reflect col rricu…wyn-sash’s? Uh, wynsas’s, weli today…”

Rook calling out your name startled you, turning your head to see him urgently rushing to you.

“But loyricu—wait.” Grim looked back at the book and squinted at the pages. “No, it’s the other paragraph…

By now, you noticed that several of your accessories, along with the sigil, had started glowing in different colors, though Grim was none the wiser. Rook certainly was.

“Trickster, Monsieur Fuzzball! Don’t!”

“It’s fine, I got this! Imma start over!” Grim cleared his throat, bringing your palm even closer as he restarted his incantation.

“Wait, Grim—”

“Ge d'afrmays hmrianod sarl loysalricu cast. Turn xiyaur daynaryo su liie xiyie vast. Reflect col rricu wynsas’s weli suday. But ssarie die to what xiyie fsaadc biercvmirian!”

The glowing intensified, lines of cracks starting to appear from the sigil and up your arm, you even think the room started shaking. 

“W-what? Henchhuman? (Name)! What’s happen—EEEEH!”

You watched helplessly as Rook scooped Grim up, calling out to the others, “Evacuate, NOW!”

He gave you an apologetic look, running out of the room with a crying and thrashing Grim in hand, following the other students out. 

Dread filled your veins, a heavy feeling on your chest and shakes going down your body as you watched the cracks continue forming up your arms onto the rest of your body. 

Scrambling to follow the others, you tripped over your own chair, pain going up your knee as you jabbed it against one of the legs. Nothing but adrenaline fueling you, you clambered to the door and tried pulling it open, pulling, pulling, and pulling until you realized.

You were locked in the room

Through the small window, you could see the small group of students turn into a crowd, everyone watching in horror, but unable to look away, as the cracks slowly grew up your neck. 

You banged on the door and pulled, screaming at everyone to let you out. 

“HELP ME! STOP STARING AND HELP! PLEASE, PLEASE!!”

You could feel your throat strain against the stress you were putting them under, tears streaming down your face as you saw the housewardens enter the hallway, drawn in by the yelling and crowd. 

Riddle was shouting something you could barely make out, eyes flickering over to you briefly before he realized something was happening. He paled, shouting something at the others near him and pointing at you. 

Pain was blooming from where the cracks formed, the glowing growing and turning your skin a dazzling shade of blue, like a crystal. 

You continued banging on the window, watching as the other housewardens made their way to the door to pull it open. 

Even Idia was hovering in the back, unsure of what to do himself. Kalim was pressed up closest to the glass, his own tears growing as he watched the spell take over your features.

You could feel your skin breaking, cracks finally formed over your lips. 

Vil had turned to yell at the group, specifically at Rook, who had actually taken to arguing back at him, the former’s hand waving and gesturing at you. Azul and Riddle were at Kalim’s sides, arguing with each other on what to do. 

Your left eye burned in pain as it was briefly blinded by blue until it turned dark.

The three sophomores were suddenly shoved out of the way onto a pile on the ground as Leona came into view, followed by Malleus on his right. 

“Hornton! Malleus, MALLEUS HELP ME!”

You watched as Leona raised his left hand, his mouth uttering something as glowing yellow sand formed in his palm. He was using his signature spell. 

Unfortunately, it was for naught. 

The last crack finally formed over your right eye, the last thing you saw was Malleus’s grief stricken face as your vision turned blue, then black. 

Then, it all went silent. 

He could still feel the harsh light on his retinas, dots dancing in his vision, even when he closed them. Malleus looked down at the handful of students he’d covered under his arm, hunched over them in protection. His own body moved before he did. 

The three beneath him were curled together, hands over their heads and eyes squeezed shut. One peaked an eye open up at him and squeaked at our close they were to him. 

“U-um, thank you, Prince Draconia, sir…”

Malleus nodded his head, then snapped his head over at a shrieking Grim in Hunt’s arms. 

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! (NAME)! (NAME)! I WANNA SEE (NAAAAAAME)!” 

The little one was sobbing as he thrashed and swiped at Hunt’s arms, the latter flinching as a claw dug into his cheek. 

“Monsieur Fuzzball! S'il te plaît, calm down! You must understand, you would’ve been burned if you were still in the room!”

Burned.

An impending sense of doom filled Malleus’s chest, foreign and heavy, as he rapidly stood and turned to the door you’d just been screaming through. 

Moments ago, he could see the fear and pleading in your eyes, pale blue cracks growing on your form as you begged him to help. You begged, pleaded, and cried for him, and he was too late to do anything. Now, only a white, dusty fog was in your place, shrouding his view into the room

The other students in the hall were now slowly getting back up. Schoenheit had done the same as he did with a few students near him, while his three younger housewardens had curled into each other, still in a pile on the floor.

Shroud had been in the back of the group, cowering behind a blue panel of hexagons sprouting from his floating skull contraption, with some students behind him. 

Kingscholar was closest to the door, part of which was slowly turning into sand as he was hunched on the ground, hands over his eyes as he rapidly blinked. Tears were flowing from the corners, no doubt from the strain the sudden flash had caused. 

“Tck, my damn eyes… Someone…go check on the damn herbivore…fuck! I can’t see!”

A yowl and a cry of pain caught Malleus’s attention as Grim finally dug his canines into Hunt’s hand, making the human drop him. 

“(Name)!”

The little one ran into the foggy room through the gap Kingscholar’s spell was causing as Malleus tried following him, though another cry made him pause. 

“Ow! What the—Grim?”

“…(Name)?”

Your voice! It was you! You were okay! Never mind that it sounded different, sounded…older. It was you, and you were okay! Malleus breathed a sigh of relief, hovering over the door to wait for enough space for him to squeeze through.

He couldn’t teleport now, he had no clue what spell went off or how it would react to another spell going off so soon.

“Ooh, Grim!” You spoke again, softer though…you sounded off. “Grim, you’re so small…”

“I forgot how small you used to be! Like a little baby~”

“Grimmy, have you been crying—ah! …Hell…o?”

“…Hi? What’s going on, why am I—”

“Why is it so foggy in here, I can barely see—oh! I like your shawl!”

“Oh, thank you! Um, do you—any of you—know what’s going on?”

“Nope!”

You spoke…multiple of you spoke? What?

“You! Go get the headmage and nurse! I…don’t…know what’s happening with the Prefect…” Riddle barked at one of the students, voice faltering as he stared at the rapidly disintegrating door with confusion.

“Y-yes Housewarden!” 

Most of the students followed suit, chasing after their friends until it was only the housewardens and Hunt left. 

Malleus finally had a gap large enough for him to fit, bowing his head to enter before a gray ball of fur rammed into his stomach. Grim must have been barreling out of there like an arrow flying from a bow, because it actually caused a bit of pain.

“EEEEEK! THERE’S A BUNCH OF WEIRDOS IN THERE!!! THEY’RE COPYING MY HENCHHUMAN, SOMEONE TELL THEM TO GIVE (NAME) BACK!”

Everyone made various sounds of confusion, except for Kingscholar, who was still rubbing his eyes and growled. 

“What are you talking about, you little furball?”

“Go look for yourself!”

Malleus and the others shared a look, Asim helping Kingscholar from up the floor and inching closer to the door, now practically gone. 

The others did the same, cautiously approaching the door and entering the room. It was empty at first glance, at least where you’d been. The fog was clearing out now, flowing out of an open window, a figure…no two…three…four…six? Standing by it. 

“There, that ought to—gasp.”

Bright green eyes met with your familiar ones, one of you staring at the group as the other five looked out the window and quietly conversed.

Malleus and the others froze, as did the six, Hunt muttering something in amazement under his breath, staring as if any sudden movement would set someone off.

“Guys, guys!” The…(Name)s staring at them, adorned in silk that reminded him of the clothes he wore while at the Scalding Sands, smacked the other five, making them turn. 

Now that the fog was almost completely cleared, Malleus could properly see the group.

It was indeed you…just older, maybe the same age as Sam? Each one looked a bit different though, some of you had your hair longer, some in an up-do. Some more chubby than others, others more lean, and your clothes. 

The one in the Scalding Sands silks moved closer to the middle of the classroom, allowing space for the other six to approach as well. One of you was dressed in what Malleus was positive was in the royal garb from Sunset Savana. Another one was in some sort of suit, similar style to what Crewel wore, while one in an elegant one piece that shimmered with each movement, ears adorned with jewels. One was in loose, but silky clothing, pearls adoring their neck, and the last behind them was dressed in a dark gray uniform, with the S.T.Y.X. logo on their left.

No matter which one of you he looked at though, you were all breathtakingly beautiful.

“Oh my god!” The one in the suit gasped, hands covering their mouth. Your look one of…delight? “Riddle? Is that you?”

Malleus’s group was still frozen, some of the younger ones flinching at your cry. Rosehearts, at the sound of his name, approached, straightening and taking a few steps forward. 

“Yes, um, (Name), is that—”

Malleus could hear what he presumed was the headmage and nurse approaching, their footsteps echoing against stone steps, at least until suit you squealed again and came rushing at Rosehearts. 

“I forgot how much of a baby-face you had, and how short you were! Come here!!” 

You practically scooped Riddle into your arms, the heeled ankle boots on your feet giving you even more advantage. Speaking of the devil, Rosehearts had a spectacularly brilliant shade of red on this face, his two strands of hair standing straight up. 

Whether it was due to rage, embarrassment, or fluster as you nuzzled a cheek against his forehead, Malleus wasn’t sure. 

“Wha—what—how—P-PUT ME DOWN!”

Shoving ‘suit’ you off, Rosehearts stumbled backwards, shaking in anger as the six of you giggled. 

“How dare—it should be off with your head for such a stunt!”

‘Suit’ you clicked your tongue, placing your hands on your hips and wagging a finger at him.

“Now Riddle, that’s no way for a husband to speak to his spouse! Or, I guess—your future spouse!”

Malleus and the others froze, as did Rosehearts, whose face went white, then back to red again. 

“I—I—I—what did you say?” Rosehearts had a soft, almost meek tone now. Strange to hear from him. “S-spouse?”

‘Suit’ (Name) giggled, nodding a swooning into your hand as you spoke. “Aw~ I remember when you used to still get all flustered around me, no one could ever tell if the red meant you were mad or not!”

“Ah, speak for yourself, Idia’s would turn pink when he wanted to hold hands.” ‘S.T.Y.X.’ you laughed as Shroud made a choking sound, then a thump, to Malleus’s left. “He still sometimes does.”

“Wait, so you married Idia? I’m Vil’s partner!”

“Interesting, Azul is mine! You two are pretty easy to guess, Leona and Kalim? The clothes give it away”

“Ah, yes, for quite some time actually…”

“I’m actually married to Jamil, though I can see why you’d guess Kalim.”

The six of you laughed together, oblivious to the distress happening behind Malleus. In fact, he turned out of curiosity, and it was certainly a scene. 

Shroud had presumably fainted, his fiery hair now extremely pink. Schoenheit was staring at ‘Jeweled’ you, hand clasped over his mouth as Hunt whispered into his ear. Ashengrotto was glowing a light purple from his cheeks, mouth opening and closing, attempting to say something. Kingscholar was looking at his you, the one in royal garb, but had a pained, almost sick expression as he eyed you up and down. Asim seemed to be the only one excited about the situation. 

“Woah! You’re all so pretty! And I can’t believe you married Jamil! He’ll be so excited—or, well, actually—you know what? It’s fine, I’m super excited to meet you all!”

Asim smiled, hands on his hips, until he frowned and asked, “Why are there so many (Names) though?”

You six turned back to Asim and the others, exchanging looks. You all looked confused, concerned even. 

“I…I don’t know. I was with Idia just a moment ago when we started growing these blue cracks on our skin. Then, suddenly, the cracks exploded and I turned up here.”

‘Jewel’ (Name) nodded, piping up. “Same, I was at a shoot with Vil when the cracks appeared, like someone was smashing a mirror, but on my skin.”

The other (Name)s nodded in agreement, ‘Suit’ you pinching at your lip as you spoke. 

“I think we all were with our husbands when we got here…wait, we all have different husbands?” You gasped, flapping your hands in excitement. “Is this like a multiple timeline thing? Like Doctor Who?”

“Oh my gooood, you’re so right, it’s a Doctor Who thing.”

“I totally forgot about Doctor Who!”

“I loved Doctor Who as a kid, was your favorite episode also—oh, uh guys?” ‘Silk’ you pointed at the group of men, wincing at the various states of distress they were in. “I think they’re not processing this well. Yours fainted.”

‘Silk’ (Name) gestured to Shroud, still on the floor, as S.T.Y.X. (Name) cringed, carefully making your way to him. 

“Oh, Idia? Babe? You okay? Maybe I should get Ortho over…” 

Following ‘S.T.Y.X’ you’s move, the other (Name)s each approached your respective…husbands. 

Malleus ignored them, moving farther into the classroom to search for his (Name), his beastie. He dropped Grim, who landed on his bottom out of surprise, making an ‘oomph’ sound. 

“Owie, hey Hornton, what was that for—”

“Where are they?” Malleus could hear the thunderstorms forming outside, but he didn’t care. “Where is my Child of Man?”

Silence fell over the crowd behind him, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the foreign feeling of anxiety in his chest as all he saw before him was remnants of you on the desk you’d been sharing. A pencil bag, a notebook, a chair fallen over. 

One of the other (Name)s must have approached him, their footsteps but background noise to the sounds of thunder.

“…Hornton—”

“Do NOT call me that! How DARE YOU!” green flames and smoke left his mouth as Malleus turned to rage at the person who dared to call him what his Child of Man called him. What his beastie named him. What his (Name)—

SMACK

The back of a palm met the skin of his cheek, stinging and burning in pain. He’d never…been slapped before. It shocked him. 

“Don’t you yell at me like that, Hornton.” The (Name) in Sunset Savana royal garb was resting their hands at their chest, rubbing the tender skin. “I may not be the same (Name) you know, but I am still your friend, even if from another timeline. And you will treat me with the same level of respect as you would your own (Name), understand?”

Malleus stared down at ‘Savana’ you with a blank look. You had the air of a ruler, the attire, the voice. His eyes told him it was you, but…you just looked…so uncanny. It was you, but his heart knew you weren’t his (Name).

The group behind ‘Savana’ (Name) all had different expressions of concern and fear, like they were waiting for him to strike you down. Except for Kingscholar, who had a disbelieving smirk, just barely noticeable. Your face softened, though, as you sighed.

 “…I’m sorry Horns, I don’t know what happened to the me that is from here. I don’t think any of us even know how or what brought us here.”

“It was a spell, mon Royal Trickster!” Hunt spoke up, eyes still on ‘Jewel’ (Name) who had taken to stand between him and Schoenheit. “Monsieur Fuzzball decided to practice a type of looking glass spell on Roi du Dragons’s Trickster! It was vraiment terrible! We had to evacuate, as the others happened to see.”

“He WHAT!” Malleus looked down at Grim, who yelped at his angry gaze and fled into ‘Suit’ (Name)’s arms, 

“I didn’t know! They wouldn’t let me practice the sigil and spell on the mirror, so they told me to do it on their hand! I didn’t know! I didn’t know! I didn’t knooooow—!”

Grim began crying into ‘Suit’ (Name)’s chest, babbling apologies and wails of regret.

“Looking glass…is that why the cracks formed on our skin?” ‘S.T.YX.’ you was now fanning Shroud with your hands. “But, the same started happening to our husbands, where are they?”

“I may have an answer for that!”

The group turned their attention to Crowley, finally arriving with the nurse in tow, who immediately fell down to attend to Shroud.

“Looking glass spells usually break the mirror and reform it back using a mirror dimension to reform, allowing the user to see into the future. Very complicated, very powerful spell. I’m surprised Young Grim was able to cast a variant of it.”

“Break?” Malleus hissed, interrupted by Grim.

“V-variant?”

 Crowley nodded, leaning down to study ‘Pearl’ (Name), who leaned back into Ashengrotto, the latter turning purple once again.

“Yes, if it was the normal spell, it wouldn’t have worked. Nothing would have happened! But something did, which leads me to believe that it was another one with another purpose…Young Grim, may I see what it was you were referencing?”

Grim nodded, pointing to the book at the desk you two had been at. Malleus immediately snatched the book and practically teleported in front of him and Crowley. The direbeast flinched and curled into ‘Suit’ (Name)’s arms, muttering. 

“…He says it was page 176.”

Crowley nodded, looking as Malleus flipped to the pages and taking the book from him. 

“Let me see….ah! I see the mistake. Grim, you silly thing, you did a different incantation! Our Prefect (Name) was shattered into the mirror dimension!”

“I KILLED THEM!? WAAAAAA—”

“Nononononono—” The headmage frantically waved his free hand, shushing Grim. “Poor choice of words. They must have had some items of personal importance to the student here and were replaced by their mirrors! It’s not unheard of, but it’s very rare for it to even be done. The good news is that all can be brought to normal!”

A wave of relief flushed Malleus, his shoulders sagging, not gone unnoticed by the other students. 

“But…”

“But? But what!”

Crowley remained unfazed by Malleus’s raising voice. “I am just ever so busy, and it requires many materials and a powerful mage to cast the spells needed to bring them back, and I just didn’t get many hours of sleep—”

“Then I will assist, problem solved.”

The headmage’s shoulders slumped as he muttered, “Wonderful.” under his breath. He straightened and gave the group of (Name)s a big smile. 

“In the meantime, you six can take residence in Ramshackle dorm as we fix—”

“Oh, I’d rather not. Can’t we go with our husbands? …Younger husband? …Younsbands?”

‘S.T.Y.X.’ you smiled, looking down at Shroud as he began waking, the nurse waving their wand under his nose. 

“Ugh…I was totally having a weird dream…:”

“Hi my Younsband!” ‘S.T.Y.X’ (Name) smiled at Shroud, which faded as he looked at them and promptly fainted again. “Oh, Idia…”

“That’s not a bad idea, with Hornton working on this, we won’t be here long.” ‘Silk’ (Name) smiled at Asim. “You think Jamil will be okay with me showing up?”

“Oh yeah! Probably, it’s all good (Name!)” Asim cheerfully responded, before frowning. “Should I call you (Name)? Do we call all of you (Name)? I feel like it’ll get confusing fast.”

The six of you hummed, sharing looks with each other. 

“Perhaps a nickname?” Ashengrottto suggested, looking anywhere but at his (Name). “Are there any you six would like to go by?”

‘Pearl’ you smiled, tucking Ashengrotto’s long strand of hair behind his ears, making him stiffen.

“You call me Angelfish often, I can go by Angel.”

“Ah! I’ll go by Tart!” ‘Tart’ turned to Riddle and smiled. “Your favorite!”

Schoenheit turned to his (Name) and smiled. “What would you like?”

“Jewel works.” Jewel smiled back, laughing as Hunt exclaimed.

“Merveilleux! A beautiful name for a beautiful person!”

Asim looked expectantly at ‘Silk’ (Name), tilting his head curiously. 

“Does Jamil call you anything back home?”

You paused, tapping a finger to your lip before smiling. 

“Call me, Habibi.”

Asim looked utterly delighted at the name, eyes shining. 

The others looked at the last two, mostly at the (Name) attending to a waking Shroud.

“Alright, alright. No more fainting…oh! Uh, call me Percie.”

The last (Name) looked down, embarrassed, as everyone looked at them expectantly.

“…Mousy.”

A snort left Kingscholar’s mouth, which he promptly closed before retorting after seeing the glare you gave him. His tail whipped against his legs. 

Crowley clapped his hands, a satisfied smile on his face. 

“Wonderful! Everyone, please make your guests comfortable! Young Draconia, if you will follow me, we will begin the new ritual spell. Come, come!”

Just like that, everyone began shuffling out of the room, the group of twelve separating from the headmage and Malleus as they went opposite directions. 

Malleus paused, turning back to look at the group. The different versions of you all looked so happy, being with the others. It made his heart feel heavy. 

“Poor Grim, Riddle dear, do you think Trey will be able to make him a treat? To make him feel better?”

“Azul, I forgot you had these glasses. I like them, you look so cute. Ah, it makes me wanna cry a bit!”

“Alright Idia, no more fainting please, you’ll get a concussion at this rate.”

“You know, Leona, it’s been a while since I've seen you with your hair down. You just look so much younger like this…”

“Oh, Vil, do you like the outfit? It’s one you picked out for me, you know?”

“Kalim, maybe text Jamil about the situation now? Just so we don’t stress him out…and no parties or feasts today, please?”

Ignoring the lump in his throat, Malleus turned back around and sped up to Crowley’s side. It didn’t matter what these other versions of you meant to them. He was going to get his (Name) back. 

His beastie…come back to him.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[vingtetunmars]

Unlisted

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin accepts a bounty from Captain Teva to track down a mysterious fugitive hiding in the lower levels of Coruscant. Things took a left turn when his son took a liking to her.

Part 2 / Part 3

Tags: Enemies to Lovers-ish?, smut (18+) in later part, Grogu plays matchmaker, set after season 3, slow burn, pre-relationship, star wars content that may or may not be canon. I think both are equally emotionally unavailable. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: Din Djarin have been plaguing my mind, and this turns out to be a longer fic than I anticipated, sooo...yeah.... If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 4k

masterlist

You kept your head down. Not just metaphorically, either — the hood stays up, shadowing your face like a curtain drawn on a stage you no longer wish to perform on.

Down here, in the belly of Coruscant, the sky was a myth. The higher levels sparkled with hover traffic and clean storefronts, but the lower levels — Level 1313 and below — were where light came in flickers. Neon buzzed overhead, casting pale blue veins down crumbling walls. You slipped through the crowd like a whisper, unnoticed, which was how you like it.

Your boots splashed through puddles that hadn’t seen sunlight in years. A vendor hollered about fried mynock skewers behind you; someone screamed further down the street — no one turned their head. It was just another day.

You reached the alley behind the scrapyard, the one that still had an access panel no one’s noticed. A sharp knock in a three-beat rhythm, and the door opens — you’ve greased enough palms to keep that privilege. Inside, your makeshift workspace waits: scraps of old droids, power cells half-drained, a busted protocol unit whose vocabulator you’ve been repurposing as a signal jammer.

It's not pretty, but it works. And that's what matters.

You slid off your outer cloak, revealing the belt of tools at your hip. Plasma cutter, sonic wrench, home-built pulse bomb. You always carry more tricks than anyone expects. That’s probably the only reason you’re not in a cell. Yet.

You were just about to reroute a power coupling when you felt it — not a sound, not a shadow, just presence. A change in the air behind you.

You turned, fast—

—and he was already there.

Silver beskar, unmoving. The T-shaped visor locked onto you. He hadn't made a sound, not a single footstep. You stumbled back a half-step.

"You're a hard one to find," the modulated voice said.

Your hand moved before your brain did. A flashbang slipped from your belt — you hurl it down, shielding your eyes as light erupts.

You didn't wait to see if it worked.

Your legs were burning, breath tight in your chest, but the alleys blur past in streaks of shadow and neon. You darted through steam vents, leapt a fallen droid chassis, and ducked into the narrow crawlspace between two shuttered stalls.

For a second, all you heard was your own heartbeat.

Then — the low, mechanical thud of boots on metal.

He was still coming.

You pivoted out the other end, slammed a panel shut behind you, and vaulted up onto a maintenance ladder. The climb was fast, practiced. You’ve done this route before — knew you’d need it someday.

Tonight was that day.

You reached the catwalk above, drew your sonic wrench, and twisted it until it whines with unstable energy. Footsteps hit the ladder behind you.

You didn’t hesitate. You turned and launched yourself off the catwalk — straight at him.

Mid-air, you jab the wrench forward. It connected with his pauldron and lets out a crackling burst that should’ve dropped anyone else.

But he wasn’t just anyone.

The impact staggered him, barely. He gripped your wrist mid-strike, wrenched your arm sideways, and you cried out — but you twisted with it, slammed your knee into his ribs, planted a boot against his chest, and shoved off hard.

You both hit the ground — you rolled, he lands heavy.

You sprung to your feet first, palm a smoke charge from your belt, and slammed it into the floor. White haze erupts.

You vanished into it.

You could hear him coughing behind his helmet — the charge is laced with an irritant, non-toxic but disorienting. It bought you seconds.

You moved fast, ducking under hanging cables, burst through a flickering doorway—

—and hit a solid wall of beskar.

He must’ve flanked you.

You striked first — a knife from your boot into your hand in a blink. You slashed low, aiming for the thigh joint.

He blocked it with his vambrace, grabbed your forearm, and swung you around. Your back crashed into a pillar. The knife clattered away.

You were gasping, arm pinned, struggling — and then you felt it. The snap of a cold metal cuff around your wrist.

You froze.

His grip tightens for half a second, then loosens — not out of mercy. Just efficiency.

“You done?” he asked.

You didn’t answer.

But your glare could burn through beskar.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The walk back to the Razor Crest was silent, save for the shifting of your boots against the metal of the landing pad. You were still cuffed, and you’ve stopped struggling — but The Mandalorian doesn’t relax. Not yet.

He had enough runs to know that quiet didn’t mean safe.

You didn't say a word, just kept your hood low and your jaw set like you were chewing on the galaxy’s worst secret. He didn’t ask what it was. That wasn’t his job.

He got the puck from Captain Teva three rotations ago. No chain code, just a vague directive — female, human, operating out of the lower levels of Coruscant. Wanted alive. High payout.

“New Republic’s nervous,” Teva had said, crackling through the holocomm. “No official charges I can find. No open case file. Just… pressure from the top. Someone wants her quiet.”

The Mandalorian had asked the usual questions. What’d you do? Who are you?

Teva had shrugged. “I don’t know. Hell, they didn’t even give me a name.”

That was the part that stuck with him. No name, no record, no crime listed — but a full-system alert and credits on the table.

Which meant whoever you were, someone high up wanted you gone without questions.

He’d taken the job anyway. Credits were credits. And he had mouths to feed.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Razor Crest creaked as the ramp closes behind him. He tossed your gear onto a bench — gadgets, explosives, tools that look cobbled together out of junk and genius. Then he guided you toward the carbonite chamber.

You froze when you saw it. “Seriously?” you muttered, voice raw from running, but steady. “You’re freezing me?”

“It’s the safest way,” he said flatly.

“For who?” you snapped. “I won’t run.”

He hesitated. Not because he believed you — but because you looked him in the visor, and there was something behind your eyes that didn't match the bounty he was told to expect.

You look tired. Sharp, but worn down. And more than anything, angry. Not reckless — cornered.

“I’m not stupid,” you added, quieter now. “You’d catch me again. Just… don’t freeze me.”

The Mandalorian glanced toward the carbonite controls. It would be easier. Safer. Less complicated.

But he had already seen how resourceful you are. If you wanted to escape, you would’ve tried already. You could have blown yourself and half the alley apart with that last trick you never used.

“I’ll cuff you to the bunk,” he said.

You nodded once. No snark. No protest.

He almost preferred it when people are mouthy. It’s easier than silence like this — silence that carries weight.

He cuffed you to the narrow bed in the small bunk area and shuts the panel behind him. Then he climbed up to the cockpit and sets a course for Adelphi.

Grogu coos softly from his seat, eyes wide.

“I don’t know either, kid,” The Mandalorian mutters, sinking into the pilot’s chair. “Something’s off.”

He didn’t say it, but he knew: this is the kind of job that never stays simple.

The hum of the engines has settled into a steady rhythm — low, comforting, like a lullaby wrapped in metal. You sat cuffed to the bunk, legs stretched out, back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling.

The Razor Crest was old, rugged. Not like the sleek, polished ships you used to know. It’s held together by care and stubbornness, and judging by the wear on the walls, it’s seen more battles than peace.

You breathed in slowly, finally letting your shoulders drop. You were not in a cell. Not frozen. That’s something.

Then you heard it — a soft patter, like tiny feet on metal.

You looked toward the corner, squinting.

A small green creature with wide eyes and bigger ears stands halfway down the ladder, blinking up at you like you’re the strange thing in the room.

“…What the kriff?”

He tilted his head.

You sat up straighter, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. He toddles down the last few steps, round eyes locked on yours. No fear. Just curiosity. And maybe… sympathy?

“I didn’t know he brought pets,” you muttered, watching him wobbled closer. “Or... children?”

He stopped just out of your reach, still staring. Then, slowly, carefully, he lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers.

You raised an eyebrow. “That a hello, or a warning?”

He cooed.

You blinked, a short laugh escaping your throat before you could help it. “Alright, you’re cute. That’s illegal.”

Before he could get any closer, the sound of metal boots clanking on the ladder echoed down from above. You glanced toward it just in time to see silver beskar descend — slow, heavy, with purpose.

The Mandalorian stepped into view just as the kid reached your side. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Grogu,” he said sharply, voice low with warning.

The little one startled but doesn’t move.

“I told you to stay in your seat.”

Grogu looked back at him with the most innocent eyes you’ve ever seen on a living thing. You watched the standoff, entirely entertained.

“Kid has taste,” you quipped. “And a better sense of company.”

The Mandalorian didn’t answer you — he walks over and scooped Grogu up gently but firmly, holding him under one arm like a wayward satchel.

“You shouldn’t be near her,” he muttered to the kid, glancing at you.

“Her is right here,” you said, raising both brows. “And I’m not gonna hurt him. Honestly, didn’t expect you to have a soft side.”

His helmet turned toward you.

“He’s not part of the job,” he said simply, climbing the ladder with Grogu in hand.

You smirked after them. “Didn’t say he was.”

The panel slid shut behind him, sealing you in again. You let your head fall back against the wall and smile to yourself.

So the bounty hunter has a kid.

This just got more interesting.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been in hyperspace. Time feels like sludge in a durasteel box, but the constant thrum of the engines and the gentle sway of the ship made it bearable.

What makes it better was the small, green creature who kept sneaking down the ladder like he owns the place.

The first time after the initial scolding, he was sneakier. You heard the soft squeak of feet before you saw the ears poke around the corner. This time, you didn't say a word — just gave him a little nod and a smirk. An unspoken truce.

Then came the second visit. And the third.

By the fourth, you were sitting cross-legged on the bunk, cuffs clinking quietly as Grogu sat on the floor in front of you, trying to mimic the motion of one of your tools using only the Force and a very determined face.

You glance toward the closed panel overhead. “He’s gonna come down again and scoop you up like a misbehaving tooka, you know.”

Grogu just gurgles.

“Right,” you sighed. “Rebel spirit. Should’ve known.”

The panel opened. Speak of the devil.

The Mandalorian climbed down the ladder, visor landing on the pair of you instantly.

“Grogu.”

It was the same tone as before — firm, quiet, expectant. Grogu’s ears twitch like he’d been caught drawing on walls again.

“He’s not doing anything,” you said, raising your cuffed hands. “Just hanging out.”

“He shouldn’t be near you.”

“Why? You think I’m dangerous?”

He didn’t answer. He just crossed the room and gently scooped Grogu up again. Grogu let out a protesting whine, tiny arms reaching toward you as he's lifted away.

“Maker forbid someone wants to be my friend,” you muttered, mostly to yourself — but you didn't miss the way the Mandalorian paused at that.

The visits didn’t stop.

Over time, Grogu got bolder. He sat on your lap. Tugs at your sleeves. Tried to mimic your expressions. You started talking to him in low tones — nothing personal, just stories. Jokes. The occasional grumble about hyperspace.

You learned quickly that he likes to coo when amused and tilt his head to manipulate you into silence. He was an expert.

At one point, you held up your cuffs and shook them lightly. “These really ruin the vibe, don’t they?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, then turned to the ladder.

“Don’t even think about it—” you started.

A few moments later, you heard the Mandalorian climbing down again. He stepped off the ladder, helmet tilting in that what now way.

Grogu was standing beside you, one hand lightly on the chain of your cuffs. He looked up at the Mandalorian and lets out a pleading whine, eyes huge, gesturing with tiny fingers like he was explaining something very serious.

You shrugged one shoulder, as much as the chain allows. “I told you. He just wants a friend.”

A long beat.

You couldn't see his face, but something shifts in the air — maybe in the set of his shoulders, maybe in the way his helmet lingered on Grogu.

Finally, he sighed — that kind of sigh that sounds heavier than it should.

Then he moved. Keys in a code. The cuffs popped open with a metallic click.

You stared at him, rubbing your wrists. “Didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Don’t make me regret it,” he muttered, already turning back toward the ladder.

Grogu gave a pleased coo and nestled back into your lap like he’d just won a game only he was playing.

You glanced at the little guy. “You’ve got him wrapped around your tiny fingers, don’t you?”

He just blinked up at you, innocent as ever.

You leaned back against the wall, cuff-free, your first real breath in hours escaping you.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

It was a rocky descent.

You were strapped into the jump seat in the hold, with Grogu curled beside you in his floating pod, blinking sleepily as the Razor Crest cuts through the atmosphere. The landing thrusters groan in protest — this planet wasn’t exactly known for friendly ports.

The Mandalorian appeared at the top of the ladder, helmet reflecting the blue-green light of the planet below.

“Stay on the ship.” he added.

Grogu lets out a soft coo, like he disagreed.

You shrugged. “Fine. I like it here. Cozy.”

He paused at the top of the ladder. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt his stare. Measuring.

Then—

“You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“There’s a bounty. Quick grab. I don’t want to leave Grogu alone.”

You glanced down at the kid, who seems entirely unbothered and was now nibbling on a snack he absolutely did not ask permission to eat.

“And I’m your trusted babysitter now?”

“If you run, I shoot you,” he replied evenly.

You sighed and got to your feet. “That’s fair.”

You were walking slightly behind Mando, hood up, hands tucked in your coat. Grogu floated between you, his pod humming softly. The outpost reeks of oil and sun-baked metal. A couple of locals eye you warily, but the gleam of beskar kept them at a distance.

“Who’s the target?” you asked under your breath.

Mando taps a puck. “Rolk Tenek. Rodian. Wanted for arms smuggling and ditching New Republic probation.”

“Aw. A real gentleman.”

The bounty’s signal led to a rust-stained scrapyard on the edge of the city. You spotted movement near one of the larger hulks — a Rodian hauling crates into the back of a shuttle. No guards. Sloppy.

“I’ll circle around,” Mando said.

You nodded but hesitated. “Wait. He’s powering up the shuttle. You sneak in, and he’s gone the second you step out.”

“I’m not asking for advice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Just don’t get mad when I save your ass.”

He vanished around the right side of the yard.

Predictably, all hell broke loose.

You hear a crash, followed by blaster fire. You dart behind a stack of old droid plating just as a second Rodian — a lookout — emerged from the scrap with a blaster raised.

He spotted Mando and fires.

You were already moving.

Your hand dipped into your coat and pulls out a small, disk-shaped gadget. You twisted the edge — click — and rolled it across the ground toward the attacker. It hummed once, then popped with a bright burst of light and a short-range EMP pulse.

The Rodian’s blaster fizzled.

By the time he looked down, you were on him. A kick to the knee, elbow to the gut, and he went down hard.

You looked up just in time to see Mando haul the main bounty — stunned and grumbling — out of the shuttle. He freezed when he saw you standing over the unconscious lookout.

You lifted both hands, mock-innocent. “Didn’t run.”

The bounty was in carbonite. You were back in the hold, wiping dirt from your sleeves. Grogu was curled beside you, clearly impressed.

Mando descends from the cockpit.

“You had a clean shot at the door,” he said.

“I know.”

“You could’ve taken the shuttle.”

“I know that too.”

A pause.

“Why didn’t you?”

You shrugged. “Because that idiot had a blaster pointed at your head. And because I didn’t feel like stealing a junk pile with bad shielding.”

Another beat of silence.

You glanced up at him. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t say it. Of course he doesn’t. But after a moment, he crosses the hold and tosses something your way.

A ration pack.

You caught it one-handed, raising your brows.

“A meal and no chains? You’re really starting to spoil me, Mando.”

He said nothing as he walks back to the ladder — but you swear you hear the faintest huff of breath through the modulator. Maybe a laugh. Maybe not.

But it was a start.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The bounty was delivered. Fuel was loaded. Grogu was fed, and now he was curled up beside you on the floor of the Razor Crest’s hold, content and snoring softly.

You leaned against the wall, rolling a hydrospanner between your fingers. Mando sat across from you, still in full armor, arms resting on his knees, helmet tilted slightly downward like he’d been staring at you too long and didn’t want you to notice.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Who are you?”

You looked up. “That’s not a very nice way to start a conversation.”

He didn’t respond. Just waited.

You sighed, twirling the spanner. “If you ask me questions, can I ask you questions too?”

“No.”

You smirked. “Then I won’t answer yours.”

“Fine.”

Silence.

Then, after a long moment, he shifted. “This isn’t a game.”

“No,” you said, watching him carefully. “It’s not. But if you want something from me, you better be willing to give a little too.”

His visor stayed locked on you. And then— “One for one.”

You nodded, serious now. “Deal.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Why is the New Republic after you?”

“That’s two questions. You want motive or context?”

“Motive.”

You paused, glancing at Grogu’s sleeping form. “Because I found something I wasn’t supposed to. Something that makes them look very, very bad.”

His silence was all the answer you needed — he wasn’t surprised. Just curious.

“My turn,” you said. “What’s a Mandalorian doing babysitting a green gremlin?”

“He’s not a job.”

That was all he gave you.

You raised a brow. “So he’s what — your son?”

“…Something like that.”

That was more than you expected. You softened a little, eyeing the tiny creature curled up like a seed pod.

“Your turn,” you said.

“How’d you find it? The thing that got you hunted.”

You shrugged slowly. “It was a routine audit. I worked in records verification — nothing flashy. But someone filed a data-wipe request with all the wrong clearance codes. Sloppy.”

“You were a bureaucrat?”

“Please. I was a thinkerer in a sea of paper-pushers. But yeah, I had access to archives most people don’t. I followed the glitch and... found an encrypted list.”

“What kind of list?”

You hesitated. “A roster of old Imperial loyalists… still on New Republic payroll.”

That made him shift. Just slightly.

You leaned forward. “That’s when they came after me. Scrubbed my ID. Flagged my face. Marked me as hostile and told everyone I’d gone rogue. Leaked false charges — weapons theft, sabotage, conspiracy. All fabricated.”

He didn’t say anything.

“My turn again,” you said quietly. “Do you ever take that thing off?”

“No.”

“Not even to eat?”

He didn’t respond.

You stared at him a beat. “How do you brush your teeth?”

Still no answer.

You grinned. “I’m going to assume you just let Grogu do it for you.”

He leaned forward again. “What else did you do, besides ‘records verification’?”

You sighed. “Before the New Republic? I was a slicer. Not for the Empire — I wasn’t that dumb. But I made systems work for the people who needed it. Protected vulnerable data. Fixed supply routes. Rewired droids to stop attacking civvies.”

“So you were a criminal.”

“In the same way you are,” you said coolly.

Another beat of silence.

“…I know how to break things,” you added. “But I know how to fix them, too.”

He didn’t reply. But something in his posture had shifted — a touch more open, less stiff.

You looked at him. “My turn again.”

He didn’t stop you.

“How come you trust him?” You nodded at Grogu. “You don’t seem like the trusting type.”

There was a long silence.

And then — “He saved me. More than once.”

You looked at the sleeping child again. “Yeah. I can believe that.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. And neither did you.

Then, finally, he spoke again. “What’s your plan?”

“Plan?”

“If I let you go.”

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know. I was just trying to stay ahead of the bounty boards. Find someone who’d believe me. But nobody wants to admit the New Republic’s a mess. They just want to pretend it’s better than what came before.”

He was quiet.

You met his gaze — or the visor, at least. “You believe me?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Fair enough.

But something had changed. You could feel it in the air between you. Not quite warmth. But no longer cold suspicion either.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said finally.

“Neither are you.”

Grogu snored loudly, and both of you looked down at him.

You smiled faintly. “He’s not gonna let you keep me cuffed forever, you know.”

“…We’ll see.”

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The Mandalorian sat motionless in the pilot’s chair, gloved hands resting loosely on the controls. The stars outside streaked by in endless white-blue trails — peaceful, in a way. Deceptively peaceful.

He hadn’t slept.

He told himself he was keeping her around to learn the truth. To weigh what was lies and what was fear talking. That was what a bounty hunter should do — verify the puck. Decide what to believe, who to hand over.

But he’d already made a mistake. He hadn’t put her back in cuffs.

He’d told himself it was temporary. That he’d lock her back up once the next stop came.

And then Grogu had started bringing her things.

He glanced toward the nav screen, though the course hadn’t changed.

She had her reasons. Her story. A believable one, if not convenient. And part of him wanted to write her off as just another fugitive lying through her teeth.

But he knew the type she’d talked about. The ones still walking free in shiny New Republic uniforms. He’d seen it himself — the Empire’s rot hadn’t been cut out. It had just been repainted.

If her story was true… if that list really existed…

He exhaled slowly. This wasn’t what he signed up for. Teva had only said she was a wanted slicer with a long list of tech-based crimes. That she was dangerous. That she’d run. Not a word about internal leaks or conspiracy.

Grogu would be asleep beside her by now. Again.

He should’ve carbon-frozen her. Should’ve done it the moment she stepped aboard. But something had stopped him.

And now?

Now it felt like the line he was supposed to walk — hunter and target — had started to blur.

He leaned back in the chair, the weight of the beskar pressing heavy against his chest.

She was still a bounty.

But he didn’t want to turn her in.

Not yet.

And he hated that he didn’t know why.

Part 2

—comment if you want to be added to this fic taglist

[itneverendshere]

school spirit and all! - soccer!frat!rafe cameron (+18) - part iii (final)

warnings: angst; smut; word count: 6.3k (sorry)

what the fuck. 

as soon as the words left his mouth, you wondered how many hits to the head soccer players got each match, because there was no way in hell rafe cameron was in love with you.

suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, you stood up, almost falling off his bed in the process.

in a frantic scramble, you reached for your clothes, tugging on your jersey inside out and hopping around on one foot trying to pull up your shorts.

"what's wrong with you?! we just had sex!"

rafe blinked, still dazed from your anything but innocent activities.

“uh, yeah, that's kind of when these feelings hit me.”

you paused, one leg in your levis shorts, the other still “bare”, and shot him a look. 

 "you don't just drop the l-word after sex! are you insane!" you managed to get your shorts up and fastened, albeit a bit crookedly, “jesus christ.”

“i didn’t mean to freak you out, it just came—"

“yeah, well, maybe lead with something less dramatic” you snorted, tugging your shirt the right way around. "i mean, who does that?"

he laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a moment you were torn between being annoyed and charmed, “i’m sorry. i meant it tho.”

“no, you didn’t.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you fumbled with your shoelaces.

“i did,” he insisted, his voice earnest, but you were too busy wrestling with your stubborn converse to look up.

“you don't even know me."

"course i do," he looked offended, like you insulted him, "your birthday is on october 8th, and your favorite color is blue. your favorite food is picanha and kimchi ramyeon. you do this thing when you're happy where you just speak really loud, all the time and when your favorite song comes on, which is all of them really, you always squeal—"

you think you lost at least three brain cells as you stood there, jaw dropped to the floor, listening to him list all the things he knew about you.

correctly.

"y’know what sherlock?” you said suddenly, standing up, finally fully dressed but still feeling exposed. “i need some air. a lot of it.”

“what?”

“i’m leaving.”

“wait—" you hear the sound of sheets ruffling, “wait a sec—dammit!”

you didn't look back as you hurried out of his room, the sounds of the frat party thumping from downstairs, music seeping through the walls. the hallway was packed with people, and you pushed your way through the crowd, your mind racing. oh my god. everyone was seeing you leave rafe cameron’s room in a hurry. there was no way in hell you’d have a peaceful week after this.

you were almost reaching the door when you felt a hand grab your upper arm. you turned around to see rafe, now dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, “can we talk about this?”

the music was deafening, forcing you to practically scream to be heard. “what part of 'too much' don’t you get?”

“why?” he asked, his voice barely cutting through the noise. “why does it have to be too much?”

“because it is!” you shouted, then softened your tone just enough to be less harsh, “just let it go.”

he let go of your arm, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “’m not asking you to say it back, okay?”

you felt the weight of curious eyes on you. the partygoers’ stares only made you want to leave even more. desperation clawed at your chest.

rafe closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “did that really feel like only sex to you?”

you bit your lip, the regret hitting you immediately, but you couldn't stop now. you needed to get out.

“yeah.” you replied, even though your heart screamed at you to take it back.

he stepped back, letting go of your arm completely. “fine. go on then," he said, his tone flat and lifeless. “just go.”

“i’m sorry—" you started again, but rafe's expression hardened. he’d never looked at you like that and you hated every single second of it.

he stepped back further, creating a physical distance, as if to save himself the hurt, “leave.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, you wanted to be anywhere but there. you couldn't delete the image of his face when you rejected him from your brain. 

as soon as you were outisde, you pulled out your phone, and dialed pope's number. he picked up on the third ring, his voice laced with excitement.

"the dick was that bad? i could've sworn—”

tears were already threatening to fall as you tried to steady your voice. "pope, can you... can you pick me up?"

“huh?”

"i just... i need to get out of here," you managed, voice cracking as you wrapped an arm around yourself, feeling strangely exposed.

"shit. okay. i'll be there in ten minutes.”

you found a quiet spot near the edge of the campus, too embarrassed to sit outside rafe’s frathouse with so many people coming and going. leaning against a tree, you sank down, hugging your knees to your chest.

what the hell were you doing? had you just permanently ruined your friendship with rafe? let your little mommy issues get ahead of you?

when pope finally pulled up in his car, you climbed in wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes. 

“what did he do? you want me to punch him? cause y’know i’ll call jj and we—"

you leaned your head against the cool glass of the car window, “this was such a fucking bad idea.”

he glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road, “what? why?”

“because.”

pope's brow furrowed in confusion. "what did he say?"

"that he loved me.”

“what the fuck?!" your body jolted forward, your heart racing from the sudden stop. the motherfucker accidentally slammed the brakes.

“pope, what the hell?”

“my bad, fuck,” he muttered, regaining control of the car and easing back onto the road, “he dropped that shit on you?”

“yeah.”

“okay, that’s kinda fucked, but—“ pope glanced at you again, concern etched on his face. “look, cameron might be a lot of things, but he’s not a liar. man, he’s the complete opposite if you ask me. too fucking honest for his own good.”

“he picked the worst time to be honest,” you muttered, wiping away a tear, “i literally had his dick in my hands!”

“dude!” pope faux-gagged, “i don’t need the details, jesus.”

“sorry,” you said, half-laughing through your tears. “it’s just... how can he love me? he doesn’t even know me! that’s what’s pissing me off the most.”

that was a lie.

pope sighed, shaking his head. “i don’t know, but it sounds like he’s really into you. you spent a lot of time together, right? maybe he knows you better than you think.”

he does.

“don’t get smart on me pope howard. i need your support right now, not this sentimentalist bullshit.”

pope chuckled, “you’ve got to talk to him. y’know that, right?”

you groaned, lifting the palms of your hands to your eyes, “why?”

“because you care about him, you dumbass. that’s fucking obvious.”

“stop making sense,” you mumbled, sighing heavily. “i need you to be angry with me, pope.”

he shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "i'm your best friend. my job is to tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear.”

you slumped further into your seat, “this is your fault anyway. you planted the stupid idea in my brain.”

“me? this is all you.”

your mouth dropped, “be fucking serious. you told me to sleep with him! for sports!”

“yeah, okay, i’ll take the blame but…”

“but?” you narrowed your eyes in warning, “but what?”

he shrugged innocently, “you never listened to me up to that point. i didn’t think you’d do it. that’s gotta mean something.”

“stop making me think,” you muttered under your breath, letting your head fall back against the seat. “i just want to forget this whole night happened.”

“maybe you just need some time to figure out how you feel.”

“i don’t feel anything,” you lied, staring out the window at the passing lights. “he’s just rafe cameron.”

pope sighed again, the kind of sigh that said he didn’t believe you for a second. “whatever you say."”

he dropped you off at your dorm, waiting until you were inside before driving away. you made your way to your room, collapsing onto your bed. why did you feel like such a terrible person?

you grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, stopping at rafe’s name. your thumb hovered over the call button before you shook your head, tossing the phone aside.

you needed time. time to think, time to breathe, and time to figure out what the hell you wanted.

the next morning, you woke up with a headache and a sense of unease that settled deep in your chest. you dragged yourself out of bed. pope had texted you, a simple “hope you’re okay <3” that made you smile despite everything. you quickly replied, assuring him you were fine, even if you didn’t fully believe it.

you weren’t.

not when your first class of the day was with rafe. but you could do it.

you walked into class just in time, like you always did, only this time you were dreading the inevitable awkwardness of being sat next to rafe.

you hadn’t thought this through. he usually got here before you, real heavy on being on time for everything he did. you tried to keep your eyes locked on the professor, who was gathering the material for class, but you still took small peeks towards the door, expecting to see him stroll in at any given moment.

except he never did. as the lecture progressed, he never showed up. 

when the professor eventually asked about his whereabouts, kelce, his friend who sat a few rows behind you, raised his hand casually.

“rafe’s not feeling well today,” kelce spoke up, his tone nonchalant. he glanced over at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes that made your stomach twist. 

oh great, so now you were the witch of the wicked west to all his friends. 

the professor nodded sympathetically. “alright, thank you for letting me know, kelce. make sure he gets the notes from today’s lecture.”

kelce nodded in acknowledgment, and the class moved on, but your mind was racing. rafe skipping class wasn’t like him. the timing felt deliberate, almost as if he was avoiding you after last night. 

as the lecture continued, you realized rafe wouldn’t be the only one needing notes. all you’d done for two hours was scramble down a few words, none of them making any sense. you struggled to focus on the material. every glance towards the door was met with disappointment.

maybe this was serious. maybe he hated you now.

after what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. packing up your things, you hesitated before deciding to approach kelce, who lingered near his seat. you’d only spoken to him a handful of times, mainly when you and rafe studied back at the frat house.

kelce was nice. but the look he was giving you now, was anything but.

"hey, kelce," you began, trying to sound casual.

"hey," kelce replied cautiously, eyeing you up and down. 

you swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"um, is rafe okay? is he sick?”

he nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering, “the flu. got it last night."

"l-last night?” 

“yup.”

“oh.”

kelce's brows furrowed slightly, “look, i don’t know what happened. but, he’s…not doing okay.”

your stomach sank. it was clear rafe was avoiding you, and the guilt gnawed at you even more. "i just... i didn't mean to..."

kelce cut you off gently, his voice softening. "that’s none of my business.”

"yeah," you murmured, feeling utterly inadequate.

"he'll come around," kelce reassured you, though his tone lacked conviction.

you nodded dumbly, unsure of what else to say. part of you wanted to apologize again, but...you’d done nothing wrong. there was no need to explain yourself.

"thanks," you managed weakly, offering a half-hearted smile.

kelce nodded in response, his expression remaining neutral. with that, you turned and hurried out of the classroom, feeling the weight of kelce's gaze on your back. the hallways felt suffocating, with whispered conversations and curious glances that only amplified your discomfort. did everyone know? was there a journal column telling everyone who got laid last night? fucking hell.

back in your dorm room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. this was worse than what you’d expected. you couldn't stop seeing the image of rafe's hurt expression, his quiet insistence that he meant what he said.

your phone buzzed beside you, and you hesitated before picking it up, sighing in realief when you saw it was a text from pope.

"baaaabeeee, how did it go?"

did he really want to know the mess you'd made of things?

after a moment's hesitation, you replied with a simple, "not great. think everyone hates me lol"

pope's response was almost immediate. “shit. you wanna to talk about it?"

you bit your lip, undecided between wanting to unload everything and wanting to bury it all deep down. in the end, you settled for a brief reply. “later."

that went on for a week and three days.

you avoided rafe’s usual hangouts, keeping your head down and focusing on your classes. you still hadn’t seen him, and it was starting to drive you crazy. you needed to talk to him, but you were scared. like, shitless scared, of what he’d say, scared of what you’d feel.

it was hours later when you finally saw him again. you were in the library, buried in your notes, the ones who’d stolen from pope because you hadn’t been able to focus properly in any class and you hated that you’d let a boy have so much control over your brain, let alone a jock.

when you looked up and saw him standing at the entrance. he looked a little too good. the typical shorts hitting just above his knees, a loose sleeveless shirt that showed off his muscles way too much for your sanity, and his hair peeking out from under a snapback. 

good enough to eat.

he spotted you almost immediately and then quickly turned his head to side, ignoring you. 

ouch. okay, fair enough all things considered.

your heart skipped a beat. it was now or never. for a moment, you considered hiding, but you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever. taking a deep breath, you stood up and made your way over to him.

“hey,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to sound as casual as possible.

rafe looked up for a second, then returned his attention to the phone in his hands, “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked.

he shrugged, and it took everything in you not to punch him in the face. “sure.”

you swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “sorry about the other night. i-i didn’t handle it well.”

he nodded, but his gaze remained on his phone, fingers typing away. “yeah, i get it.”

you frowned, sensing that something was off. he’d never ignored you before, he wasn’t even giving you the dignity of looking at you as you spoke to him. 

“are you okay?”

“fine,” he replied curtly.

before you could ask him what the fuck is problem was now, a girl approached, her smile bright, almost blinding you. she was ridiculously pretty, with long braided hair and sparkling brown eyes.

a literal doll.

she looked between you and rafe, “hi, are you ready to go?”

your heart sank as the girl slipped her arm around rafe’s arm and he finally put his stupid phone away and smiled down at her.

heavy on the ouch.

“yeah, let’s go,” rafe said, his voice softening, but then he turned to you, his expression blank again, “see you around.”

you stood there, watching them walk away feeling like a complete fucking idiot. like you were being pranked. what the hell was that? was he trying to make you jealous? or was he moving on that quickly? was there even something to move on from?

you returned to your seat, barely registering the world around you.

is that what he meant by telling you he loved you? you’ve been feeling bad over a boy who clearly only said what he said because you fucked him too good? wow.

you tried to focus on your notes, but your hands were trembling. without realizing it, you started tearing at the pages, ripping them apart. by the time you looked down, half of your notes were in shreds, scattered across the table.

“dammit,” you hissed under your breath. you gathered the torn pieces, stuffing them into your bag. there was no salvaging them now. 

with a frustrated sigh, you pulled out your phone and dialed pope’s number. 

“what’s up?”

“i need to get fucked up tonight.” you said bluntly, not bothering to hide the frustration you were feeling. 

“buy a guy a drink first?”

you could hear him snicker at his own joke, “shut up. are there any parties?”

“yeah, heard there's a big one at the delta house. everyone’s going.”

“okay. we’re going too.”

pope sighed, “i don’t remember signing up for this.”

“shut up and pick me up at 9.”

you decided that tonight was the night to go all out. no more hiding, no more feeling sorry for yourself. you rummaged through your closet, tossing aside clothes that were too plain, too boring, or just not the vibe you were going for. 

finally, you found it—the perfect outfit, and possibly the sluttiest thing you proudly owned.

you slipped into a sleek, black leather mini skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, hitting just the right spot on your thighs. you paired it with a cropped, red satin top that showed just enough skin to be daring but not over the top. the top had a deep v-neckline, accentuating your collarbones and drawing attention to the delicate gold necklace you wore. the outfit was completed with a pair of knee-high black boots, giving you an edge and adding a few extra inches to your height. you never wore them out, too worried that your feet would be killing you after a couple of minutes, but tonight, if you got drunk enough, you wouldn’t feel shit.

you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the top and smoothing down the skirt. 

your makeup was bold, different from what you usually did—a smoky eye that made your eyes pop and a deep red lipstick that matched your top perfectly. you left your hair loose, allowing it to fall in soft waves. satisfied with your look, you grabbed a small clutch and headed out.

when pope arrived to pick you up, his jaw practically hit the floor. he stared at you, eyes wide, as you strutted towards the car.

“i'm sorry—are we going to a strip club or to a party?” he blurted out.

"are you slutshaming me?"

"no, but be real for a second."

you rolled your eyes, but a small smirk played on your lips. “don’t be dramatic. just wanted to look good.”

“look good?” pope repeated, still in disbelief, “sweets, you always look good, okay? but this? you look like you’re about to rip someone’s heart out.”

“good,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat. “that’s the goal.”

he shook his head, muttering something under his breath about needing to keep an eye on you all night.

“you’re gonna tell me what happened?”

“nothing happened.”

“right.”

the delta house was already packed when you arrived, the music thumping so loud you could feel it in your chest. you walked in with pope by your side, determined to leave all your worries at the door.

“alright, let’s get some drinks,” pope clapped his hands, rubbing them together before leading you to the makeshift bar. you could feel eyes on you as you walked through the crowd, whispers and stares following your every step. you ignored them. 

so what if people knew you fucked rafe? that was your business, not theirs.

you grabbed a tequilla shot, downing it quickly and feeling the alcohol warm you up from the inside. pope handed you another, and you sipped it more slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

“easy. ‘m not holding your hair back if you throw up,” he warned, nudging you gently. “just relax and have fun. cleo’s joining later.”

“awwww, look at you being soft."

“shut up. don’t embarrass me in front of her."

you placed your hand over your heart, “i would never!”

the night wore on, the party growing louder. you danced, laughed, and mingled, trying to keep your mind off rafe and the mess you'd made of things. pope stuck by your side, and cleo, the girl of his dreams, joined you eventually, her energy infectious. 

you were happy he’d found someone. 

you were at the bar, grabbing another drink, when you saw rafe walk in.

your heart nearly dropped out of your ass, but you forced yourself to stay calm. he was with the same girl from the library and seeing them together made your stomach churn. he hadn't even noticed you yet, too busy talking to her.

"pope," you called, nudging him. "look who's here."

pope glanced over and sighed. "ignore him, please. we're here to have fun, remember?"

you nodded, drowning another shot, "right. fun."

it was easier said than done. every time you glanced their way, you wanted to storm up to him and punch him in that stupid perfect face. why did it bother you so much? he was just a guy. just rafe cameron. you downed another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb the emotions swirling inside you.

“goddamn mama, are you drinking yourself to death?”

jj’s presence barely phased you, “yes.”

“what’s got you so worked up?”

you groaned, not really in the mood for his antics. “nothing. just havin’ a good time.”

“yeah, right,” jj snorted, stealing your drink and taking a sip. “try again. this shit is 95% vodka by the way.”

you snatched it from his hands, “don’t drink my shit. don’t wanna talk about it.”

“alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “dance with me then?”

“no.”

“pleaseee,” he begged, jutting out his bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, “c’mon.

despite your best efforts to stay frustrated, his infectious energy made you crack a smile. "fine, but just one song maybank."

jj whooped, “atta girl.”

he grabbed your hand with a mischievous grin and pulled you onto the crowded dance floor. you laughed as he twirled you around, his movements were surprisingly graceful. one time he made you faceplant the floor, so this was an improvement. 

his energy has always been infectious, jj was a literal golden retriever in human from and soon enough you found yourself letting go of all the worries that had been weighing you down. you moved in sync with him, your hips swaying, and your arms following the flow of the music. jj’s playful antics kept you entertained—he'd throw in a spin or a sudden dip, making you laugh even harder.

but then, he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the music.

“guess who's watching?"

you raised an eyebrow, trying to catch your breath between giggles.

"who?"

jj nodded towards the edge of the dance floor, where rafe stood with a group of his friends. “my number one fan. been eyeing us since we started."

“uh,” you glanced in his direction, catching rafe’s gaze briefly before he looked away, “that’s weird.”

“i know you two fucked.”

your hand instantly reached out to shove jj’s shoulder, “shut up.”

“i'm serious. you’re gonna let him watch or show him what he's missing?"

on one hand, you were furious at rafe for bringing another girl to the party so soon after whatever had happened between you two. after telling you he was in love with you. sure you were a bitch after, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. on the other hand, jj’s always made you go off the rails, in a way that stoked your pride. 

“fine,” you said with a defiant grin, “let’s give him a show.”

jj’s smirk widened, and without missing a beat, he spun you around and pulled you in closer, moving with even more enthusiasm than before. the music pounded around you, you couldn’t even tell the lyrics apart. every twirl, every dip, every sway of your hips was a message to rafe—whether he was watching or not—that you were done feeling sorry for yourself. as the song reached its peak, jj dipped you low, and you laughed breathlessly. you glanced towards where rafe had been standing, but he was gone.

then, without warning, from the corner of your eye, you saw a commotion erupting nearby. before you could react, the crowd around you began to murmur and part, revealing rafe. what the hell? what was this? a coming-of-age movie?

his usually friendly composed demeanor was gone, the glare in him was enough to scare anyone in his way. he stormed towards you, his eyes locked on jj. and then it clicked.

“oh for fuck's sake,” you groaned under your breath, knowing that nothing good would come out of it.

"hey, what the—" jj started, but before he could finish, rafe swung a punch at him.

yep, there it was. 

the blow caught jj off guard, knocking him back a step. the music seemed to stop, or at least fade into the background as chaos erupted around you. people gasped and shouted, some pulling rafe away while others checked on jj.

you pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance as you watched jj touch his jaw gingerly. 

“what the fuck, cameron?” jj groaned, “watch the pretty face.”

rafe’s chest was heaving as he glared at the other blonde, fists typically clenched by his side, looking as if he was ready to pounce on him again. before he could take another step, you placed yourself in front of him, blocking jj’s figure sitting on the ground.

“upstairs. right now,” rafe opened his mouth to spit something, but you cut him off, “now.”

he moved silently, following you up a flight of stairs to a quieter area. you could hear his breathing from miles away, he was still worked up. you found an empty room and stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, turning to face him.

rafe ran a hand through his face, frustration evident in his every movement. “i don’t know, okay? i just—i saw you with him, and i lost it.”

“oh, so you’re a caveman now?”

"god, you can be so fucking infuriating," rafe exploded, throwing his jacket into a corner of the room, "i saw you. touching him like... like none of this matters!"

"none of what matters?" you shot back, incredulous. "you show up with another girl after telling me you love me, and now i‘m not supposed to move on? what do you expect?"

"me?!" he jabbed a finger into his chest, his face flushed with anger. "that was my damn tutor! i wasn't trying to—shit. you think i'm trying to move on? i told you i loved you. that shit doesn’t just disappear because you don't feel the same way."

now you just felt stupid.

"your tutor?" you repeated, trying to wrap your head around the new information.

“we weren’t exactly on speaking terms and i needed help with calculus,” he muttered, “didn’t think you’d want to speak to me. and i was still sad.”

rafe shifted uncomfortably in his place, his expression now softer. you felt the sudden urge to hug him, but you didn’t. 

“you said you were supposed to move on,” he says carefully eyeing you.

“i did?” you lied, suddenly feeling like the room was closing in on you, “i don’t think so.”

“you did,” he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "i meant what i said that night. did you?” 

you looked away for a moment, “rafe—“

“i don’t care if you don’t love me, you don’t have to, not right now. i just need to know if you think you can, one day.”

this wasn’t the rafe who punched jj, or the rafe who stormed through the crowd in a fit of jealousy. this was the rafe you were used to. 

your ears were ringing as he closed the distance between you. his eyes searching yours, desperate for an answer. the anger had melted away, replaced by a raw, aching need. fuck, he was good.

“listen—” you started again, but this time your voice was softer, trembling. he was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his breath mingling with yours, “can you back up? jesus. can’t think properly with you close.”

“don’t want to back up,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. he didn’t move, instead leaning in even closer, his lips brushing your ear, “yes or no?”

“cameron,” you breathed, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

but he wasn’t having it.

his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “tell me you don’t feel this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “tell me you don’t want me too.”

he held your face by the jaw before leaning forward on instinct to kiss you but stopped himself right before he did. eyes on his lips now, completely entranced, you leaned forward to finish what he started but he was stopping you with his thumb. you stayed close though, gaze still fixated on his bottom lip and when his eyes flicker up to yours again, they’re wild and dark.

“you gonna make me fuck it out of you?”

you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to him, the way your pulse quickened every time he was near, “and if i do?”

he didn't answer immediately, instead closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. his lips crashed against yours, his hand sliding from your jaw to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it as he squeezed you deliciously. 

all of a sudden, you were pressed against a wall, his body firm against yours, pinning you with his weight. he got a groan out of you, tilting your head as his grip tightened on your hips to keep you there, secured to him.

“this isn’t fair,” you pushed at his shoulder with your palm so that he pulled away to look at you, “you’re playing dirty.”

“so what?” he breathes out, jaw relaxed as his hips start to grind against yours.

your hand reached out to grab his shoulder for purchase when your hips started to move on their own, “oh fuck.”

rafe arched his hips sharply, teasing your clit, eliciting a gasp as you leaned your head against the wall, your chin tilting towards the ceiling. he kissed your neck, where sweat-dampened hair started to cling at your nape.

when did it get so hot in the stupid room?

“you’re—oh, gonna f-fuck me in a stranger’s room? real romantic,” you tried to sound casual, but it came out all wrong when his fingers pressed into the plush of your ass. 

he laughed against your skin, the sound making you tighten your legs around him. you were glad his hands were currently busy because a single touch between your thighs would expose how wet you were. 

“you can say it.”

your arms slided past his shoulders and loosely locked behind his neck, “no.”

rafe shook his head, “you asked for it.”

“rafe.”

he was poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek looking at you as if he was ready do destroy you whole, “told you i was gonna get it out of you.”

you blinked slowly, savoring the sight of his face, then your wrists, still crossed behind his neck, tugged gently, drawing him closer, craving his threat, “you’re gonna fuck me until i confess?

he lowered his head until his forehead met yours, your fingers could sense the rapid throb of his pulse beneath his jaw, his eyes tender, holding an adoration you never knew was possible. no one had ever looked at you that way. 

you pulled him by the fabric of his shirt, hard enough to make him understand he needed to do something. you moaned against his lips, fingers threading through his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive skin.

your skirt rode up as he rutted into you, and his hand slipped under the fabric, fingers grazing the edge of your panties, teasingly close to where you ached for him most. you gasped, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

“rafeee,” you whimpered, “please."

he pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, eyes dark with lust. “say it,” he demanded, his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, driving you crazy with anticipation.

“no.” you managed to choke out, feeling a flush of heat spread through your body.

he raised a brow, “no?”

his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric of your panties, finding you wet and ready. he groaned at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you moan his name. you clung to him, hips bucking against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was giving you.

“you sure?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise. 

you barely had time to think about changing your answer before he plunged two thick fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your vision blur. your back arched off the wall, your head falling back as waves of pleasure crashed over you. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“rafe, i'm—” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your body trembling as you felt the orgasm build, ready to spill over.

but then he was pulling back just as you were about to fall over the edge. it was maddening, the way he seemed to know exactly how to bring you right to the cusp of pleasure and then deny it. you’d only fucked once before, and it felt like he’d memorize every single thing you liked. every spot that made your toes curl. 

“please, let me—”

“you said no, baby” he interrupted, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “you’re not ready.”

his fingers moved with practiced precision, slow and deliberate, stoking the flames of your desire without allowing you any release. every time you felt the pleasure building to its peak, he’d ease off, bringing you back down, only to start all over again.

you clawed at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but he held you firm against the wall, his body a solid, unyielding barrier. “please,” you begged again, “i can’t take it.”

“oh, you can,” he scolded, lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “and you will.”

his thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles, while his fingers thrust inside you, curling just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bucked against his hand, your body pleading for release, but he kept you balanced on that knife’s edge, never letting you tip over. motherfucker.

“I need to come,” you admitted, your voice cracking with desperation. “please, baby. i need to come.”

rafe’s pretty blue eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, but he still didn’t relent. 

instead, he slowed his movements even more, drawing out the pleasure until it was almost unbearable. you writhed against him, your body trembling, every nerve ending on fire.

“you want to come?” he asked, his voice a seductive purr, “that bad, huh?”

“t-this isn’t f-fair.”

“awww, sorry baby."

“fuck, fucking—"

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with approval. “just a lil more, yeah?”

he increased the pace of his fingers, his thumb rubbing faster against your clit, and you felt the pleasure building again, higher and higher, until you were sure you couldn’t take it anymore. but this time, he didn’t stop. this time, he pushed you right to the edge and then, finally, let you fall.

your orgasm crashed over like a train wreck, your body convulsing with the intensity of it. you screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, riding out the waves of pleasure that seemed to go on forever. rafe held you through it, his fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of your release until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

“good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. 

he kissed you tenderly, his lips a gentle contrast to the intensity of what you’d just experienced. as you came down from your high, he held you close, his fingers still inside you, his thumb gently stroking your clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

you couldn’t find the words to answer, your mind too foggy with pleasure. instead, you just held onto him, your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in the crook of his shoulder.

rafe’s fingers slowly withdrew from you, leaving you feeling empty and aching for more. he lifted you gently, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with his casual tenderness. he climbed in beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body warm and solid against yours.

“i love you,” his voice was a soft caress against your ear. “i meant it.”

you looked up at him, “i know,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “i think i love you too.”

“i know.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

stan's having a bad day. fem!reader knows what will definitely lift his mood (she will show him her boobs) :р

i’m so glad we’re talking about this because i swear showing Stan ur boobs to cheer him up is necessary. this is so canon to me like you don’t understand 😭

i would do this to him every day, even when hes in a great mood

nsfw

imagine he’s stomping around the shack muttering to himself “these dang tourists, no one buys nothin’, everything’s overpriced blah blah and sweet moses !! Mabel left glitter in my laundry again” and you just kinda waltz over, smile and say “baby, wanna see somethin’ that’ll make you forget every single one of your problems?” and before he can even answer, bam. BOOBS. the eighth wonder of the world!!! agree agree tho

Stan STOPS. not a single brain cell left standing, only eyebrows scrunching up. and then he just mutters a hoarse “oh. yeah. okay. day’s already lookin’ up.”

he is so easy to please WTF. you could throw off his whole afternoon with just tiddies

and the funniest part is you know it works. like this isn’t the first time. this is the tried and true method. you see him clenching his jaw, muttering about tourists or smth or tourists asking stupid questions and you’re like. okay. time to bring out the heavy artillery

and sometimes you don’t even have to say anything ?? you just go up behind him while he’s reading bills and gently lean against him so that he can feel your breasts. and Stanley just sits there stunned for a second before going “you’re such a menace, princess. come sit on my lap.” please PLEASE Stan fuck PLEASEE

or or or he’s grumbling while eating a sandwich in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, and you just come in, lift your shirt with both hands and go “you wanna touch somethin’ better than salami?” AND HE’S ALREADY DROPPING THAT SANDWICH ON THE FLOOR. UGH he’s cupping them like it’s the first time all over again, calloused thick fingers always so fucking gentle towards his girl, thumbs brushing over your nipples. “sweet moses, ‘s like gettin’ hit by lightning every damn time, baby, huh” and then uhhh... then he kisses one <3

sometimes he acts all dramatic about it too like “don’t tempt me, sweetheart, i’ve had a long day” but then he’s already got your tits in his hands, he's stupid !!

and if you lean into him and let them brush against his cheek while giggling, “you feel better now, baby?” he’ll let out low grunt saying yeah. yeah, actually. i fuckin’ do

also bonus points if you’re in a public setting. like you're at the shack after-hours, still a few stragglers hanging around and Stan’s leaning against the counter looking worn the hell out. you catch his eye, give him this knowing little smirk and just discreetly pull down your shirt collar real quick so he gets a peek. and the man literally perks up !! :) shoulders back, eyes gleaming, suddenly ready to go out and scam a bus full of tourists because you believed in him and showed him your tits. motivational speaker who?? we only know breast encouragement

+ Stan loves laying his head on your tits. both mullet Stan and older Stan

when it’s mullet Stan, he acts all cocky, though he's so fucking tired, teasing “you got the best pillows in the state, sweetheart.” but then his eyes flutter shut two minutes later and he’s snoring against your cleavage with his mouth open and drooling a little !! and you can’t even be mad cuz it’s cute

“unghhh i fuckin’ needed this. lemme just die here okay? this is heaven. leave me. bury me in here” and he stays there. and PLEASE PLEASE stroke his hair while he’s there PLEASE. he’ll murmur some nonsense like “you’re an angel. don’t deserve you. softest place on earth right here.” 😭😭

older Stan tries to be casual about it, but he’s secretly just as attached to the routine. if you tease him like, “you want my chest again?” he’ll grumble, “well i sure as hell don’t wanna rest my face on a pillow full of feathers when i got a better one right here.”

sometimes he’ll even do this thing where he nuzzles into one side and gropes the other cuz he's possessive. he also has huge hands and he has nowhere to put them except on your boobs. and yeah, old habits die hard, so please stroke his hair while he’s there “that’s it, darlin’. ooohhh fuck. gonna fall asleep right here. don’t even wake me if the shack catches fire.”

i just think he deserves it :( every time. he deserves warmth and softness and little kisses between your breasts while he murmurs how much he fucking needed this today. he’ll bury his face in ‘em like “just gimme five minutes. then i’ll take out the trash. promise.”

he will always say thank you, too. every time. “thanks, babe. you're better than any therapy.”

[forever-rogue]

Hi babes! So I’ve had this idea running around my brain for days.

Basically Cooper Howard and the reader knew each other pre-apocalypse (up to you wether it was romantic or platonic) but after the bombs go off, the reader makes it to a vault where she is put in a cryopod for 200 years to see that the rest of her vault is dead from asphyxiation (I definitely didn’t think of this by playing fallout 4). So she escapes and later finds Cooper (she recognises him and then realises it’s him), it’s up to you how it goes from there 🫶🏻.

Anyway, I love your work! Hope you’re doing great! 💗

AN | I love this concept. Enjoy❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; mentions of canon typical violence

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind, sugar,” Cooper came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder. You made a small sound of content before leaning into him and turning your head to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“I’m just…thinking,” you whispered before turning around so you were facing him. The warm evening breeze swirled around the two of you as you leaned against the porch railing, and looked down the Hollywood hills. He took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“You do that a lot,” he teased as you rolled your eyes in amusement, “too much thinking ain’t good for you.”

“Well, between the two of us, one of us has to use a brain cell once in a while,” he scoffed as he gently squeezed your cheeks before pressing a kiss to your lips. When he let go, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him a few more times, “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” he confirmed with a soft nod, “I love you too, sweetheart. You gonna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

“I suppose,” you sighed lightly, resting your hands on his chest, “do you think that...it seems silly, but do you think that it'll ever happen? The nuclear war. Or do you think it’s all just a big pissing contest?”

“I think,” he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips in order to press a kiss to your knuckles, “that you worry too much too often.”

“I know,” you agreed, “I know I do. I just can't help it sometimes. What if something happens?”

“If anything were to happen, we’d face it together and figure it out,” he promised and while you liked the idea of his sweet words, it didn’t totally alleviate your worries. He’d been trying to convince himself as much as you.  It had been a constant in his mind as well. He wasn’t as good of a liar as he believed he was.

“Rest assured Cooper Howard,” you whispered softly, “that I will always find you and be with you. No matter what life brings.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and let out a small sigh. You echoed the sound sweetly before kissing him again, “I promise, Coop.”

“I promise too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Cooper?” your brow furrowed as you looked at the tall figure standing in front of you. The first time seeing a Ghoul had almost caused you to have a heart attack; you hadn’t been expecting to see someone so…crispy. Being asleep for the last two hundred years hadn’t prepared you for half the things you’d seen in the short time since you’d escaped Vault 111. Like the radroaches - seriously? Weren’t those things bad enough normal? Nature had definitely fucked up with that one. 

Some things you could get used to easily, but other things were definitely going to take time. Two hundred years had passed and you hadn’t experienced a single thing. In some ways it felt like you’d been a lamb left to slaughter. 

After you’d gotten over your initial shock at the Ghouls, you’d realized, with a heavy heart, that they were just people too. People had suffered unfortunate circumstances but they were still just people…mostly. Realistically you’d been rather lucky when it came down to it. You had a long nap while others suffered.

But you’d recognize him anywhere; you’d memorized every part of him so many years ago. You weren’t sure if you could ever forget him. 

But this…this wasn’t who you were expecting to see. Honestly, you didn’t expect to see him ever again, but here he was…alive and breathing. Maybe.

“Cooper,” you took a step closer while he took a step back, his hand brushing along the holster at his side. You held up your hands in a meek attempt to show your innocence; it still made your heart constrict to see his response to you, “i-it’s me.”

“I’m ain’t fallin’ for that one, sweetheart,” he drawled, causing a frown to tug down the corners of your mouth, “I know when I’m hallucinating and I’m not about to go feral.”

“What are you…talking about?” you watched in confusion as he reached into his pocket and grabbed a small vial before downing it in one go. He tossed the bottle to the side, letting it clink off the side of a building, “I don't ... I don’t know what’s going on! I don’t understand anything here, but I know it’s you. I’d know you anywhere.”

He made a sound at the back of his throat as he blinked a few times, still looking at you as if he was trying to decide if he’d already gone feral or whatever it was called. You wondered if he would even possibly shoot you. 

“That’s impossible,” he said quietly as he studied you. It was like you were frozen in time - you looked exactly the same as you did two hundred years ago. It wasn’t possible for you to look like that when he looked like…a monster, “you look just like her but you can’t be her.”

“Cooper Howard,” you sighed in exasperation, running a hand through your hair. You’d always done that and he’d seen that look on your face a thousand times before, “I don’t know exactly what happened to me. I-I woke up and I was in one of those weird vaults that they used to talk about and there was no else there. A couple of skeletons and a bunch of these giant cockroaches-”

“Radroaches.”

“Radroaches,” you rolled your eyes and that almost had him let down his guard, “and I got out. I don’t know what year it is and I don’t know what’s happened. I’m just here. And I have no fucking clue what I’m doing or where I’m going or what’s even happening in the world anymore. But I found you. I know it’s you. I told you that I’d always find you.”

He allowed himself to relax as he tried to put the pieces together to see if your story made sense. The worst part of it all was that it made sense. The day the life as he’d always known it stopped, he hadn’t seen you. But he knew that you’d been at the Vault-Tec headquarters that day. It made sense. It made sense.

He hated that. Hated that you were forced to experience this strange new world, and even more that you had been all but abandoned to figure it out for yourself. But he couldn’t deny that there was a palpable feeling running through his entire being at the sight of you. Your smile was just as pretty as he remembered; he thought about it a lot. Thought about you a lot, still to this day, despite the fact that it had been literal centuries. 

He’d accepted that you were dead a long time ago. But here you were, a ghost of a life that once was. 

You let out a nervous laugh at his silence, feeling like a fool, “are you gonna say anything or am I just going to keep standing here like an idiot?”

“You should turn back around and walk to the nearest vault and pray that they take you in,” was all he managed to choke out as you felt the tears start to sting at the back of your eyes. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to possibly even say to him, “you ain’t cut out for his world. You weren’t made for it. You ain’t gonna survive up here on the surface.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you stomped your foot, an unwitting little habit that you had, “you want me to just walk away?”

“Yeah,” he pulled the brim of his hat lower, voice gruff, “I do.”

“Oh,” you scoffed, trying to hold back all that you were feeling, “and what? You’re cut out for this world?”

“Look at me,” he growled deeply, “I’m a fuckin’ monster made for this world.”

You flinched at the sound of the self hatred in his voice. He wasn’t anything like you’d remembered or expected, but he was still your Cooper. 

“You should get going, darlin’.”

You turned on your heel, ready to walk…somewhere. Anywhere other than there, left to be humiliated.

“Tell me one thing,” you turned back to face him, finding that he was still watching you intently, “what year is it?”

“2296.”

Your heart almost stopped for a moment as you tried not to panic. 

Over two hundred years since you’d last walked the world. You’d been sleeping for over two hundred years while Cooper had been suffering. You had so many questions, but more than anything your heart hurt for everything that he’d been through.

You offered him a nod before walking away, this time for real, trying to figure out what the actual fuck you were going to do.

Cooper watched you go wordlessly, eyes on you until you were but a small speck in the distance.

“Who was that?” Lucy appeared at his side along with the canine companion they'd named Dogmeat, a curious expression on her face, “did you know her?”

“It was no one,” the sharpness of his voice caught Lucy off guard and she raised her eyebrows in question, “just lost.”

“Okie dokie,” she hitched her backpack higher onto her shoulders, “we should keep going before it gets dark.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with her, finding his heart wasn’t quite in it, “get a move on kid.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was a weird world. Like really weird. There were creatures that you'd encountered that appeared to be descendants of the ones you'd known during your previous life. Roaches definitely weren't supposed to be the size of dogs. Dogs really shouldn't have been up to your shoulders. And that thing that you'd encountered that was maybe a fish? Wild.

It was all so much to get used to and it felt like you were a child all over again. You had met a kind woman that had taken you into her diner (or whatever a diner was these days) and helped to get you back on your feet. The first order of business? Getting rid of the vault suit; not'd noticed an immediate shift in how people treated you once the suit was gone. 

The one thing that hadn't changed? Men. Men continued to the worst, leering shamelessly after you. Looks like not even radiation can evolve that out of men.  

You still had not clue what you were going to do with your life or anything really, but at least now you had a safe space to learn to adapt and overcome. Now you just had about two hundred years of history to catch up on. Learning about places called the New California Republic and New Vegas definitely told you that something big had happened.

Everything else, you hoped, would fall into place over time. You did, however, have your suspicions that Vault-Tec were nothing but a bunch of liars confirmed. There was that at least. And you'd learned what a Ghoul was - what Cooper was. It didn't sound like it had been a fun reality for him.

At least if you were going to start aging naturally, you wouldn’t have to suffer in this hell forever.

You were helping around the diner one afternoon when the doors swung open to reveal Cooper, along with a young woman and a dog. Funny, you thought to yourself, Cooper had always adored dogs.

The rag dropped from your hand as blinked wordlessly at them. Neither you nor Cooper said anything, silence thick and heavy between the two of you.

“Do you have any pie?” The young woman asked, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips as she looked around, “and maybe some water?”

“S-sure,” you stammered nervously pointing at the table towards the back, “I'll get that pie.”

And just like that, Cooper was back in your life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Without Cooper, you weren't quite sure what to do. Honestly, you had been sure what you'd do once you left the vault along, but you figured when you found him that things would fall into place…or make a little more sense anyway. But as you'd made your way through the skeletons that littered the vault, you weren't entirely convinced that this wasn't some sort of fever dream.

And Cooper had turned his back on you.

Only to come back to rescue you.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice dropping softly, almost like he was letting down his guard, “how did you end up in one of those pods?”

“I don't know,” you admitted, wiping your hands on your knees as you looked at him, “I-I remember bits and pieces but not the whole thing.”

He made a small sound of acknowledgment but didn’t say much else. You’d been wracking your brain for weeks now - ever since you’d escaped the vault - about what exactly happened before you took a centuries long nap.

“The last thing I really remember was speaking with that Maclean kid, the one that had recently started working at Vault-Tec. We got into an argument about something and he shoved me around and then…I think he hit me. The next thing I can remember is waking up.”

“Life is funny, ain’t it,” he pinched his brow before looking at you with a pained expression, “Hank Maclean is still alive. The girl I’ve been traveling with…she’s his kid. I think everyone finally found just what kind of a person he is. And it ain’t a good one.”

“He’s still alive,” you breathed out heavily, trying to decide if you were angry with him or…in a twisted way, thankful. You supposed the last two hundred years could have been a lot worse than just sleeping through them. But then again, if you’d been awake and aging, you’d have been long dead by now, “this is all so…weird.”

Silence fell over the two of you for a few bit, as you started at the roaring fire. It was dangerous, or so you’d been told by almost everyone you’d encountered. But somehow with Cooper by yourself, you didn’t feel scared or nervous. 

“I looked for you,” he said after a short while as your attention snapped to him, “for a long time. Decades.” 

“Really?” your voice cracked on the simple question as he nodded.

“After a while, I realized you were probably dead,” your heart twisted at that, “it was the only logical answer. Unless you’d ended up like me and I would never wish that on you.”

“What happened, Cooper?” you asked softly. You wanted to know but you also didn’t want to push him either. You still had so many questions about this strange new world, “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Your curiosity was one of the things I always loved about you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, almost sounding just as you remembered, “to put it simply, radiation. I got a little bit too much of that radiation and then I became like one of them radroaches, adapting and surviving.”

“Radiation,” you repeated softly, “fuck me. Am I going to-”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured you, “radiation levels are livable now.”

“Oh,” you swallowed thickly as you gave him a nod, “that’s good…I think.”

“You don’t deserve to have to live in such a world,” he caught your eye and looked at you intently, “in a way I wished you’d never have had to experience it. It would have been easier if you’d just…died that day they dropped the bombs. But in a selfish way, I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart. Still the prettiest face I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted in amusement as your face warmed up, “still the biggest flirt I’ve ever met Cooper Howard. In a selfish way, I’m glad you’re here too.”

“You’re telling me that you’re happy to see his ugly old face?” he asked, his voice turning gruff and bitter, “darlin’, you could be looking at a gulper and it’d be a prettier sight.”

“What’s a gulper?” your mind reeled with possibilities of what in the actual hell a gulper was. 

“I…nevermind,” you didn’t need to know about those horrors just yet, “there’s a lot of things that are prettier than I am.”

“Agree to disagree,” you insisted with a soft laugh, “I’m glad you’re here, you know. Even if it sucks and this whole world sucks. I’m glad you’re still here. Selfish or not.”

You stood up and brushed yourself off before walking over to him and plopping onto the ground next to him so you were facing him. You reached for his hand and took it in yours, giving it a squeeze so tender that it almost made him cry. He never thought he’d get to feel such a touch ever again.

“So,” you whispered softly, “what’s next?”

“You’re not ready to run for the hills and hide?” he joked, half serious.

“Nope,” you promised, “besides, what the fuck am I going to do here by myself? I know nothing about anything anymore.”

“Want to help me and the kind find Hank Maclean?” he asked as your eyebrows raised up, “it’s a long story.”

“I’m in,” you promised, “but there’s one thing I want to do first.”

“And what’s that, sugar?”

“This,” you leaned in and took his face in your hands, before gently leaning and kissing him. When you pulled away he looked at you in surprise, “that’s all.”

“C’mere,” he put his hands on your hips and hauled you onto his lap, “you should know better than to start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I fully intended to finish,” you grinned, “I’ve missed you, Coop.”

“I’ve missed you every day for a long time,” he sighed, “I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good.”

[wheeboo]

laundry day | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's laundry day and you're in a bit of an embarrassing predicament. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader (however, sorta implied that reader is more leaning toward fem) GENRE. fluff, humour?, best friends/roommates to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, vernon is checking reader out lowkey, reader embarrassingly wears hello kitty underwear i don't make the rules, ik vernon is mainly chill but in this they bicker <3, this was very stupid n silly lmfao WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested from @weird-bookworm: lemme be annoying already— noni + #16 and #59 from list 1!! - #16: "You hugged me like your personal pillow." - #59: "Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception."

notes: i'm never good with writing humour but i thought of this stupid scenario and idk how i feel BYEE (cuz ur girl lowkey struggled on figuring out how to put #59 in the story lmao) tysm for submitting this in sky <3 and ty @bananabubble for reading it over for me!

join the 2k celebration!

You are so stupid.

So fucking stupid.

How could you let yourself get carried away in loading all your laundry that you forgot to save a pair of pants to wear in the meantime?

You replay everything in your head: your overflowing, neglected laundry basket, the utter satisfaction you felt after loading it... right up until the moment you realised every single pair of pants you own was now basically swimming around in a goddamn whirlpool, and now you're left sporting nothing but your underwear and a shirt that didn't offer much coverage than expected.

You let out an annoyed groan, burying your face into your hands and mentally slapping yourself in the face. The chill of your room sends a trail of goosebumps running up the exposed skin of your legs. There really was nothing you could do but wait for your laundry to finish.

Then your head shoots back up, and maybe your bedroom lights up a bit brighter at your metaphorical lightbulb moment, because you think of Vernon. He's the only other option you have.

Tip-toeing up to your closed door, a bit of hesitancy gnaws at you for being so dumb, before you yell out, "Vernon!"

He's probably in the living room right now𑁋you can overhear the faint music of the record player the two of you snagged at this vintage thrift store the other week. A very good and lucky find, nonetheless.

Taking another (and maybe regrettable) deep breath, you call out again, a little louder this time. "Vernon! Can you hear me?"

The music seems to dip down slightly, and after a moment, the record stops spinning, replaced by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. You brace yourself for the door to swing open to reveal the embarrassing state you're in right now, but it doesn't.

Instead, you hear Vernon's voice respond to you through the door, "Yeah?"

"Uh..." You bite your lip because you can't believe you're about to ask this. "Do you have, um... a pair of pants or shorts I can borrow? I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

For a moment you think he didn't hear you because it's completely silent on the other side of the door, and it does absolutely nothing at calming down your racing heart. You see, you probably should be fine with walking around in your underwear with Vernon because he's your best friend and roommate and he definitely would not judge at all, but it's simply not that simple𑁋

"Did you, like, spill Monster on yourself again?" Vernon asks casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world that you would do (it's happened one too many times).

"Yes, I mean, no, I mean𑁋look, just fetch me a pair and I'll bring it back to you later?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." He pauses. "I'm wearing my only pair right now since you loaded yours first."

You really should've considered that being best friends with Vernon meant collectively sharing the brain cell of procrastinating when it comes to doing your laundry. Great, just absolutely fantastic. This was very much how you wanted your day to go. Perhaps this is why you're best friends, after all.

"Well, shit," You murmur, more to yourself but Vernon hears it anyway.

"Look, I'm sure it's not that bad, right?" Does he seriously still think you spilled Monster on yourself? "You could probably just𑁋"

You can hardly act by the time the doorknob twists and Vernon peeks his head around the door. But the second he catches sight of you, his eyes flicker over you, before he quickly averts his gaze to the Radiohead poster on your wall. Was it the lighting in your room that's making his face look pink?

You stand there awkwardly, suddenly feeling so exposed in front of him as if some sort of gigantic spotlight was shining down on you. It's not like you haven't been half-naked around each other before, but this feels different... somehow. You don't know why, or maybe you don't want to know.

A cough erupts from Vernon, breaking the sudden silence.

"Oh, wow, um..." He toys with the black hoodie around his head. "I didn't look. I swear."

His eyes dart everywhere except back to you, lingering on the Radiohead poster, the slightly askew picture frame on your desk, just anywhere but you. You don’t know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed.

"Ugh, I'm so stupid." You run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And I have this meeting for work in an hour and I know the laundry won't be done by then. I'm actually screwed."

Vernon thinks for a minute. "You can't like... virtually attend the meeting?

"No."

"Or it can't be postponed?"

"Nope."

"What if I file you as a missing person to the police?"

"You're seriously no help, dude," You say, giving him a light shove to the shoulder, but it's hard to suppress the curve to your lips and the small chuckle that leaves your mouth when you see him fall back dramatically.

Vernon snorts lightly. "Well, it's probably better than showing up to work in your Hello Kitty underwear𑁋"

"You said you didn't look, you idiot!" You exclaim furiously, and Vernon literally does not see the way a pillow practically spawns in your grasp and flinging toward him before he can even react. The pillow hits him square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward with a surprised yelp. "Oh my god, just report me missing at this point."

Vernon just laughs as he catches his breath to stand back up, grabbing the pillow up the floor and lifting it up like a shield as if to defend himself from you. Your face is burning brighter than the lava lamp glowing on your bedside table.

"This is so embarrassing," You mutter sheepishly, wanting to unleash another defeated groan again. "I can't believe I'm this stupid to forget to..."

"You're cute."

"...and then I'm probably going to get fired𑁋what?"

Vernon tosses the pillow back onto your bed and clears his throat.

"I said you're really dumb."

That is not what he said.

For a second, the disastrous situation seems to lighten up just a little bit, and your heart is doing some intense, unrhythmic tap dance against your ribs. You heard exactly what he said𑁋that he called you cute in this ungodly predicament𑁋and now he's trying to brush it off?

Vernon cracks a teasing, boyish smile. "And stupid, yeah. You're not wrong about that."

You open your mouth to retort, but the words get caught in your throat, almost like a choked sound coming out instead. So you point an interrogative finger and step closer to him (and yes, still in your underwear), eyebrows furrowing together.

"You called me cute," You state, all firm and serious now.

Vernon's playful look falters slightly, expression shifting to something a bit more guarded now. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck, that nervous habit you've always found sort of endearing throughout time. Perhaps there's a bit more meaning to it now.

The few moments of silence that follow is absolutely suffocating. You can't even tell if time is passing by quicker or slower as the two of you stand there, shifting this uncomfortable weight between both of your feet.

"Yeah," Vernon says simply, quietly. "I did."

You nearly want to laugh for some reason, but you can feel the nerves tickle up your spine. "I'm standing here in fucking Hello Kitty underwear and you think I'm cute?"

You can visibly see the way the lump in his throat tightens as he swallows, his eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the floor.

"Look you just... You caught me off-guard. Like... laundry day doesn't mean walking around in your underwear and all that," Vernon explains, in a tone like he's trying to reason with you. "but for you, I'll make an exception because𑁋"

"𑁋because I'm cute?"

"Because you're so stupidly cute from freaking out when I could just go to the store right now and buy you a pair of pants to wear." Then he sucks in a breath. "And yeah, the Hello Kitty underwear is cute, I guess."

You feign a shocked, traitorous look to your face. "You guess?! It's Hello Kitty, man."

"Dude, do you want me to snatch you some pants to wear or not? Because I'm deadass about the missing persons report," Vernon asks, half-annoyed yet somewhat half-amused. The twitch to his lips doesn't go unnoticed. And the voice of him calling you cute just minutes earlier also doesn't go unheard of too.

You wear a cringy, exaggerated pout to your lips. "Please."

Vernon's face contorts in slight disgust at that. "Please don't do that eve𑁋I'm leaving." And before you can say anything, he's turning around and leaving your room.

You hear the clinking of keys, assuming that Vernon is getting ready to leave to presumably retrieve you a pair of pants to wear for the day. You step up to your doorway to peek into the living room.

"Hey, I owe you!" You holler out to him. "Let me know how much it costs and I'll pay you back."

"No need," Vernon calls back over his shoulder.

"Come on, I'll feel bad," You insist, leaning against the doorframe. "I'll do anything, I swear."

Now that seems to intrigue him, and you watch the way Vernon slowly turns back to you, and maybe you're starting to regret ever saying that to him.

"Okay," he says lightly. "We're watching a movie tonight."

"A movie? What are we..." Then your eyes widen in realisation. "We are not watching Shrek again. I'll end up falling asleep on you because we've rewatched too much."

Vernon just shrugs. "Yeah, like last time. You hugged me like your personal pillow, remember?"

"I..." You stop yourself from responding immediately, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks at the memory. "Fine, whatever. If I fall asleep again, you can just wake me up this time."

A low, thoughtful hum runs out of Vernon's mouth. "I mean, I really don't mind if you fall asleep, you know. If you're tired and stuff."

You blink up at him dazedly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he answers, and the corners of his lips lift up ever so slightly. "You're cute when you fall asleep on me, anyway."

another note: guys idk what i just wrote lol its like 90% dialogue n rushed HAHSADSA

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[risuola]

MISERABLE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Satoru hated the way he would recognize you always, even if just by the taste of your tears.

cw: angst, husband Gojo, hurt/barely any comfort, brief physical abuse, blood mentioned, verbal abuse mentioned, borderline toxic relationship, general sadness and sorrow — 2,6k words

a/n: the spontaneous pour of my brain, the angstiest parts of it are the most active during the night... could this be tied to too much? idk, maybe

“Do you think we could ever be happy?”

The question cut through the silence of the evening like a knife, reaching your ears and mind in a way that made you hum. Your hand not even for a moment stopped the gentle motion of brushing through the soft hair of a man whose head was resting on top of your lap. The gesture automated and yet still somehow warm, still filled with emotions that over the years remained unspoken.

“Do you think we–, no, I could have done all of this differently?”, Satoru asked again, his tired gaze fixed on the golden ring he kept between his fingers. The band that sealed your love at the altar nearly five years ago. One that you took off for the first time since you vowed in front of him, promising him your heart, body and soul till the end of days.

“I’m not sure if we were meant to be happy,” you told him quietly, keeping your hand occupied by the snowy strands. The words made your throat clench the moment they left your mouth; your voice cracked just slightly at the end of the sentence. You felt your body aching from the intensity of the feelings, like all of your cells were suddenly on fire, your heart bleeding inside your chest as if the knife was stabbed right through it.

“You think so?” His voice stayed low, nearly whisper-like as he was taking in what you said. “Were we supposed to be miserable?”

“I don’t know, Satoru,” you mouthed, not much sound leaving your lips.

Your hand felt light, distressingly so, you hated the sensation. You knew this was how it had to end, you knew that the time would come to part ways with your husband, but nothing could have prepared you for the heaviness of it. You felt it all on your shoulders, weighing you down as if the entire world just collapsed and rested on you. Suddenly you felt like things as trivial as breathing became exhausting, there was not an ounce of certainty in you, not a single drop of the belief that you will be alright without him. Satoru was a part of you, he was like a vital organ without which you felt like you won’t be able to live further. But, at the same time, that very organ seemed to kill you slowly, seeping poison right to your bloodstream, hurting you time after time. A disaster. You two were a disaster.

“I’m really sorry,” he breathed out after few moments of suffocating silence. “You deserve the world that I couldn’t give you.”

“I never wanted the world,” you denied, your head shaking just slightly as you allowed your knuckles to brush against his cheek. “You are my world, Satoru. I never needed anything else. You are all I want, you are everything that my heart loves.”

“And yet, I fucked even that up,” he chuckled. A bitter undertone felt nearly palpable as it echoed in the empty area. Satoru knew it was all him. Hurting you time after time, he never thought of it until it was already said and done and yet, you were always by his side. Every shit he said to you, every word that left his mouth you took and forgave. All he could do was to savor your cries and he hated himself for the way he would recognize you always, even if just by the taste of your tears.

You were an angel, he always thought. You were too good for him, too patient and too forgiving. Even in the heat of an argument, you tried to talk him down from his outbursts. You were the one to hug him tightly to your chest, to press his ear right above your heart even if he stabbed it with his words just a moment before. You showed him nothing but love, and yet that day… Satoru had no idea what possessed him when he clenched his fist during the argument. He feels like he blacked out for a moment, because it’s only after you spit the alarming amount of blood, kneeling on the ground and keeping a strong hold over your stomach, that Gojo realized that he just hit you with the blue infused fist. It felt unreal, he couldn’t believe his own eyes. He felt like his own body betrayed him. Why would he do that?

And then, he was right at your feet, apologizing frantically as you tried to regain your breath, to not vomit, to push the pain away from your thoughts but you just couldn’t. It hurt so much, you felt like all of the organs inside you were crashed after that one, single hit. The taste of metallic covered your tongue, your vision went blurry for a couple of seconds and at first, you couldn’t even hear the repetition of sorrys that was leaving Satoru’s mouth. He was terrified and so lost. Disgusted by his own self, hating the way he lost control over his body and hurt you. Before that, the sight of your tears was something that often kept him up at night. Remorseful thoughts haunted him constantly, but now, he knew that they won’t show up anymore. Now he’ll be seeing your blood, he was certain of it. Now, he’ll be seeing your curled in pain form, gasping for air as the red is gushing from your throat. And he’ll know that he was the reason for it. That it’s him, your husband who should protect you from any harm, who caused your suffering. Even the thought of it felt surreal. Was there any good in him? Or was he just a monster?

But then, you slowly got up. Satoru had no idea how long it took, but you pushed your body up and sat yourself against the wall. You knew him well enough, you knew the state of panic that he was in that very moment and your heart broke at the sudden realization of what’s to come. Inviting him onto your lap, you let your hands wander through his hair, calming him slowly in the silence of your shared home. Then you gave him the ring. Gold, now stained with blood enough to cover the love promise that he had engraved inside the band. The vow that he wasn’t able to keep.

“Please, don’t leave me,” he whispered, knowing it’s futile to ask. You could feel the hot tears dropping from his face onto the skin of your thighs and even though he seemed calm right now, you knew him all too well to know how broken he is, laying there in complete submission to your touch. He wasn’t moving, his gaze was fixed on the jewelry he held in his hand, his eyes studying the I’ll love you forever etched into the metal.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you confessed, still gently caressing the side of his face and his hair. If it was your choice, you’d stay with him till the end of your days. You could withstand the verbal outbursts, the heated arguments – you were a part of them, you had your fair share in the hurtful words, even though you knew how heavily it was bordering toxicity. But that day the line was crossed, and you could tell he wasn’t in the right state of mind when his fist clenched before. For a split second, it wasn’t your Satoru, it wasn’t the love of your life. For that brief moment, it was the strongest sorcerer in the world, the menace, as others call him, a threat. All of your marriage you felt safe near him. The power he possessed he always used to ensure your well-being, you not even once had to fear him because of how gifted he is. He never used his jujutsu against you. Not until that day.

“Then don’t,” a plead. He had no right to ask you to stay, he was all too aware of that.

“I’m scared of you, Satoru…”

You fear him. The sound of these words rang inside Gojo’s head for a good moment, rendering him speechless and you suffocated in the silence. You hated the sentence that just left your mouth, you hated the feeling of frighten that was cursing through your veins. You never felt uneasy next to your husband. Even if it’s right after the argument, you were always certain that if any danger occurred, he’d be the first by your side to shield you from it and he showed that to you many times, protecting you from threats as trivial as you grabbing the hot pan handle. Even in the heat of a fight between you two, he’d be the first to kneel in front of you and kiss your knee if you hit it onto the table. You can speak no words but he’d carry you in his arms from the other side of the city if he knew your feet hurt from walking. But now, how could you feel safe if you know he can be pushed to the point of using his strength against you?

“I…” He began but fell silent as soon as he opened his mouth. How could he even explain what happened to him? How could he reassure you that it won’t ever happen again if he himself wasn’t even sure what made him punch you in the guts? He couldn’t even remember what was the reason for the argument before it occurred. “I don’t know what happened,” he said truthfully. “I feel like I blacked out for a moment, I would never—”

“I couldn’t recognize you for a moment,” you exhaled, closing your eyes. The picture of his face right before the hit flashed against your eyelids. That was the Gojo from the battlefield, not your husband. “But if that happened now, how could I ever be sure it won’t happen again? I don’t want to die by your hand, Satoru, and we both know you are strong enough to kill me in one hit.”

“You’re afraid I’d kill you?” It felt surreal. Was it even happening right now? Satoru’s voice dropped down to a whisper. “Do you think I’d be able to do that…?” He wasn’t sure either.

“I don’t know.”

It was a nightmare. One of those from which Satoru couldn’t wake up, no matter how harshly he would pinch himself. The agonizing weight of reality felt heavy on his body, it hurt physically, it made him want to scream, to cry, to die. What was the point of his life if he couldn’t even keep one person safe? He always prided himself for being a man of his word and yet the promise to love and cherish you till death part you seemed unachievable to him.

“I don’t know what happened. Why my body acted the way it did. But love, please believe me,” he was desperate as he raised from your lap, kneeling in front of you and gently cupping the sides of your face. His touch was almost non-existent, he was scared to put any pressure against your skin but you leaned into his palms. Your fingers found their place around his wrist, smoothing the area softly with your thumb as you looked into the blue of his eyes. There was despair storming inside the ocean of his irises, the depth of fear painting its picture on his features and it hurt you to see him like this. “Please, believe me that I would rather die myself rather than hurt you ever again. There’s nothing I can do now to erase what I did, if I could cut my hand off just to make sure it will never cause you any pain, I’d do that without second thought.”

“We both know it will grow back,” you muttered lightly and he chuckled just barely at the remark. Satoru rested his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses kissed as he allowed himself to close his eyes and you did the same.

“I love you. I can’t go without you, I can’t live without you. You’re everything that I have and I know I have been a shitty husband. We argue a lot, I said so many things that I should never even think of. Fuck, I caused you so much pain… I know I don’t deserve you. I know it’s selfish of me to ask you to stay with me even though I’m the reason for your suffering, but please, please, just give me one last chance.”

“Satoru…”

“Please, let’s change it all, let me fix it,” he was babbling, you could tell how much panic was seeping into the voice that was leaving his mouth. “I’ll change, I will do everything, anything, to make you feel safe. To make you feel how important you are for me, how much I love you.”

 “I know you love me,” you whispered, pressing a kiss onto the heel of his palm.

“Don’t kiss that hand, you should hate it,” he sighed. The feeling of your lips on the hand that caused you pain burned him alive.

“I can’t hate any part of you. Even that hand, I love with all my heart.”

“Then stay. Don’t leave me, please, I beg you. I know I’m a handful, I’m terrible, I’m—”

“I knew you are a handful when I married you,” you cut him. “I knew who I’m saying I do to. Even though we fight so often, you never failed to make me feel safe. With all your power, I was never scared of you.”

“If I could give up that power just so you’d know I’ll never use it against you anymore, I would. And believe me, most of the nights I can’t sleep because the sight of your tears is haunting me and now, I know I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for the way I hit you. The blood, the hurt… God, you bled because of me…”

Feeling unworthy of being at the same level as your face, Satoru lowered his head, aiming to back away from you and rest his forehead at your feet where it should be, but you were quick to grab him by the fabric of his shirt and pull him to your chest. Once again, his mind went blank as the calm sound of your heartbeat drown out the hurricane of thoughts in his head. The warmth of your body enveloped him along with your arms as you wrapped them around his figure and out of habit, his own hands snaked your waist. You had the ability to make the world stop, to erase everything that wasn’t just you and him in the universe. You were what he needed to be able to live. No air and water could keep him alive if it wasn’t for your presence right next to him.

“I’ll stay,” the words left your mouth as a whisper but despite the quiet tone, it sounded confident. You were sure of your decision. You were sure of him, there was a lot more to Satoru Gojo than just that one moment and you realized it while kissing the hand that punched you. It got to you that what you felt wasn’t fear of him, but it was a fear of losing him. “But promise me something.”

“Yes?”

“Not today… But tomorrow, let’s sit and talk. About everything. Let’s clarify the things that we argue about, so we won’t need to anymore.”

“I’d love that. I hate fighting with you. You are all I need in life and yet I’m hurting you so often.”

“So tomorrow. We will talk about it all, okay?”

“Yes. Yes, I promise you. The world on fire won’t stop me from taking the time with you.”

“Good… now, let’s just stay like this.”

“Yeah…”

[novantinuum]

jen's "Hard-Light Hybrid Steven" headcanon dump

Okay so I'm just making this its own post, because frankly at this point... the original post is so hard to get all the pulp out of due to the headcanons being spread over multiple reblogs and half of it being in the tags.

So here we go. Self indulgent headcanon time. This is how I'm now personally interpreting things within the realm of my own fic work and the post-canon storylines that live in my mind. This is NOT, however, a work of meta- I am by no means suggesting this to be what I see as "canon," only having some fun playing around with ideas I think are cool on a speculative fantasy anatomy level. Take it as you will basically, lol. This is ultimately just for me.

With that stated:

"jen what the fuck do you mean when you say hard-light hybrid Steven, what are you even suggesting"

Essentially I am proposing that Steven becomes progressively more hard-light based in form as he ages. When he was born he was two almost entirely separate halves mashed together- organic and gem- and those two halves slowly but surely merge over the years (hard light replacing organic matter) until one day they are literally inseparable, and Steven is one permanently cohesive being... entirely hewn from hard-light, but with a level of anatomical complexity that still makes him a complete anomaly amongst Gems and humans alike. Instead of the innards of his body being solid light, he is still formed of cells- only now, those cells are entirely hard-light.

His gem is somehow mimicking the form of organic matter with a level of detail that's absolutely unobtainable by shapeshifting or tailored reformation alone. Steven has become the single most complex hard-light system to have ever existed.

Some more specifics on how I imagine this merge working:

Much of the "merging" is natural over time, basically his gem branching out new bits of hard-light circuitry within his body as it integrates within his system.

However, this process is sped up significantly by all the spills and injuries Steven deals with throughout his childhood... because his body's instinctive response to injury is simply to replace damaged cells with hard-light analogues. An almost instantaneous patch job.

Steven's component halves being so distinct early on is a large reason why he takes so long to harness many of his powers.

This is also why Steven's (mostly) organic half is so weakened during the split in Change Your Mind- at that point there's a lot about his anatomy that's been converted to hard-light, so it's basically as if White Diamond yanked the power source out.

(Same idea for why he's so weakened during the movie when his gem's on the fritz... his gem's connection with the rest of his body got partially severed for a time, which. Is not Good for someone who at this point is more hard-light than not hard light.)

At a certain point post-canon, it becomes impossible for Steven's organic and gem halves to be separated. They are so tightly integrated that attempting to remove the gem would only poof him.

Now, here's the thing though...

Steven does not realize that Any of this is taking place until the blunt reality of his strange new anatomical nature is put on display for all to see... when he actually DOES poof.

Here is how (in my own post-canon musings, which I have simplified here because y'all don't live inside all the intensive lore that jangles about my brain) I envision that taking place:

So, Steven would be in his mid to late twenties at this point. He's married to Connie, and they have an infant son.

Recently, there was a fairly severe Gem incident that left Beach City and Little Homeworld pretty damaged. Things are still being mopped up from that.

Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl head out on a quick mission one day to intercept one of the last few supporters of the Gem who attacked the Crystal Gem's hub of operation, and at first it seems like it's gonna be a straightforward trip.

Then, Steven sees the Gem in question pull a destabilizer wand on Garnet, and- unwilling to watch her to get ripped apart like that again- throws himself in between. He can take it, he thinks. These things never hurt him one bit as a kid

He cannot take it.

He poofs.

His gem unceremoniously falls to the ground, along with the clothes he was wearing and whatever he had in his pockets.

Cue the others going "what the actual FUCK" because based on everything they've ever witnessed and known about him no one had "Steven poofs" on their bingo card.

The insurgent Gem is captured and dealt with, but now... oh, boy. There's literally no playbook for this. Nobody knows what to expect.

Steven's gem is quiet for WEEKS. During that time, the Gems end up consulting the Diamonds on Homeworld to ask for intel on diamond reformation, but none of them are much help- Rose and Steven are the only ones who have actually poofed. Beyond them, this is completely unprecedented.

In a very vague sense, Steven is aware of what must have happened during this time... (even if a part of him wants to deny it, because How???)

He can pick up vague snippets of what's happening just beyond his reach... catching voices and what must be faint sensations of familiar people handling his gem, but beyond that he has no awareness of the passage of time, and he has no means by which to reach out to them mentally.

It takes almost two months for him to finally reform. When he does, his gem quickly shifts through its previous three forms and then just... outright h a n g s for a while on the new one... as if what's trying to "load" up is so complex it's goddamn buffering.

(my brain can only think of This image uyhjfsdbyuhjfg)

No one really knows what to expect but when he finally reforms, he... looks mostly the same? Still rather human in appearance, externally? The only notable difference is that his irises are pink now. (But with no diamond pupil- not unless he's going Full Power Mode.)

Steven also reforms WITH an outfit much like a Gem would.

The second he's back, he runs to embrace Connie (who is sobbing in relief) and asks how long he was out.

And he did NOT anticipate that answer to be two months.

As it turns out, he missed quite a few baby milestones while he was gone, and he feels horrible about it- it's not his fault of course, but he feels so bad that Connie had to go that long without his support, and that there's all those special "firsts" with his son he'll never get to experience.

This whole incident marks Steven's final "retirement" from participating in real combat- he outright tells the Gems to not involve him in any other combat situations unless the whole ass planet is under threat, basically. The potential risks are just not worth it now that he knows how long he'd be out of commission, should he poof once more. He can't put his family through that again.

Now, with all that outlined...

Ways that Steven is Weird now:

He looks rather human- his hair looks like hair and his skin looks like skin- but after he reforms, literally every "cell" of his body is fashioned out of hard-light.

However, if one were to theoretically slice him in half (which I PROMISE I am not going to do, this is only a thought experiment ahahah-), his internal anatomy would glow much like the Gems' do. (See below image for what I mean.) The "human-like" appearance of his skin and hair and other externally visible features does not extend very deep.

He "bleeds" pink now- but it's only surface, and is all just excess hard-light. No real blood.

His body would no longer show up on a radiograph- just the gem.

Many of his anatomical features (not all of them, though) are now vestigial in certain ways-? Like, various functions have overtly been taken over by his gem... he doesn't need to breathe or have any lifeblood beyond light pumping through his system, so his heart and lungs serve no necessary purpose anymore... but all of these organs still "exist" as like an echo of what once was, perfect mimics of their organic form but hewn from hard-light.

That being said, Connie enjoys the reassurance of his heartbeat, so he retains that function while conscious.

(Not to mention, "breathing" is literally just a habit for him by this point.)

HOWEVER, when he sleeps (another thing he technically doesn't Need to do but does anyways) his breathing and heartbeat stops entirely and it kinda spooks Connie out. The literal only evidence she has that he's still kicking during these times is the soft hum of his gemstone.

He does not have a biological NEED for food or water anymore and can fully operate on exposure to light alone, but he still really enjoys eating and drinking anyways. In fact, he's still able to absorb energy from food... so it's basically like he's over-charging his battery or whatever. He also still experiences taste (so still posesses some form of taste receptors) and instinctively feels "hungry" at meal times, so like... the running theory is that he must have hard-light analogues for all these receptors and neurotransmitters and hormones that communicate sensations like hunger in his system even though their function is entirely redundant with his gem powering everything.

Furthermore, his memories and sense of self and everything one might refer to as "the soul" is stored exclusively in his gem now. Which means, if one could manage to analyze his brain like one could with a human brain, there would be entire sections that simply... don't light up the way that others (such as the parts of the brain that govern motor control, as an example) do. This is because all the "data" once stored there has migrated.

He can fully shapeshift now, if he wanted to.

He can also still visually "age"- it's all based on his mental state, same as before.

But despite being hard-light in nature now, he can still interface with organics in fusion because his form is still so organic in shape and function. He's still the bridge between humanity and gemkind. I like to think that... theoretically... a Gem might be able to fuse with an organic too, but the sheer burden of trying to shapeshift and maintain such cellular complexity is what stops this from happening.

Steven, though? His very existence as a hybrid acted as a template by which hard-light could learn to understand organic life. He is still an intensely unique being, even IF he no longer consists of any actual organic matter.

_

I am sure I will probably add something to this later, but for now, those are all my musings.

Anyways, thank you for taking a brief visit to the deepest recesses of my brain, where I am chewing at the drywall and bouncing around the room like a cat who has just devoured the goddamn motherlode of catnip. Good night! !! :DDD

[dev1lm4n]

lesson one: sensitive

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: under several notable circumstances, mr. miller finally decided that he'd be the best teacher for your first debut into sexual activities. even when all of it is to prepare you for your successful date.

word count: 5.4k (i know.. i went a little crazy on this lol)

warnings: explicit (18+), set in 2013, pre-outbreak, age gap (joel in mid 30's and reader in early 20's), inexperienced but not dumb reader, fingering, he's kinda mean, check umbrella warning on series masterlist

notes: i had so much fun writing this! tbh this one is super filthy compared to the other one so.. forgive me 🤲 COMMENT n REBLOG if u liked it

“I could take you home if you’d like. Pretty girls like you shouldn’t roam the street alone.”

Simon, more commonly referred to as Robotic Class Guy or French Fries, was surprisingly not half as bad as you thought he would be. He had all the height of a man but none of the bulk. From behind he could be easily spotted as someone in their late teens to early thirties, mostly blaming his horrid graphic tee and skinny jeans combo, but when he turned that face was all boy. His caramel hair flopped over his eyes in the way no office worker could get away with and on his wrist were bracelets in woven leather. 

At first, you accepted his awkward invite out of spite. 

Just to rid yourself of a certain plague festering upon your head, feasting on your brain cells so that you’d think of nothing but Mr. Miller in all his glory. Him with his tight worn-out jeans, spread open enough that you could see a naughty peak of his bulge, while he watched the soccer game. Him with his shirt off, bathing in the summer-induced moisture, while he mowed the front lawn and edged the curb. Him with his thumb parting your lips, looking at you like he’s about to consume you alive, but of course he didn’t. 

At least now that Simon came around, you’d have a new port to anchor your boat on.

“No, thanks, I’m alright. My..”

Who was Mr. Miller to you again? 

Your.. father? Absolutely not. Even if he’s taken you in as a part of the Miller family, just like how he used to say, you would feel like it’d be morbidly repulsive to deduce him to that particular role. For fuckssake, you stick a finger up your cunt every single week to the thought of him fucking you like one of his girls.

Then would a family friend be better of a word? Or should you just say that he’s a guardian of yours? But that’d be confusing, wouldn’t it? You glanced at your watch, counting the hour and minute hand as if it’d give you a revelation on how to answer Simon’s pop quiz.

“Someone promised to pick me up.”

That sure did sound ominous.

With a promise to leave a message to his cell once you’ve returned home safely, you stepped out of the quaint local restaurant. It was warm outside and you weren’t particularly fond of that. Heat has always been your mortal enemy; something about the musty scent of middle school boys’ armpits after PE class mixed in with the pungent perfumes they use to try and hide it has left you permanently traumatized. Your once-cheery mood had long evaporated along with any semblance of coolness. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, fanning yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to find relief from the stifling heat. This is hell!

Where was Mr. Miller?

Mr. Miller must've read your mind, because a honk quickly resonated. He was on the very corner of the parking lot; his large pickup truck looked hilariously out of place when compared to the array of city cars parked by his side. You swore you could see him grin from behind the shaded tint of his window, perhaps entertained at your almost too obvious annoyance. The thought made your heart jump and maybe even did a front-flip. God, you’re helpless!

As you beelined down the sidewalk and on to him, the heat seemed to intensify with every step. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, causing your hair to stick in weird shapes. You just hope that his truck’s AC works.

“Hi.. Hi, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was it?”

The nickname never ceased to exude so much power. ‘Sweetheart’ made you feel as if a tail had grown out right from the hilt of your ass and you had no other choice than to swish it around excitedly. You propped up one leg on the washed-off gray carpet, before swinging yourself into the vehicle in one go. The door closed behind with a loud thud. As you leaned back, you cringed at the feeling of your sweat-soaked dress clinging onto your skin. You felt like some marinated beef, sticky and in need of a quick shower.

“It was alright,” you hummed.

“Alright? Now that made me all the more curious,” he grinned, nudging your side with the edge of his elbow. “Com’on now. Tell me all about it, will ya?”

“Mr. Miller, are you trying to embarrass me?”

Mr. Miller’s soothing brown eyes that were stuck on the glittering street lights came flickering over to you, as if he’s actually afraid that perhaps he’s made you uncomfortable. His shoulders squared and his jaw slackened for just a split second as he tried to grasp for any nuance you’ve just given. You then smiled at him, relieving him of his worries.

It’s a little jarring to say that you think he’s quite cute. In the same way people find puppies cute, or those strawberry-shaped trinkets. He’s a little socially-awkward in his own way. Embarrassed to ask the waitress to bring his plate back, but would be confident bullying his cock into a tight cunt. Would definitely get kooky when asked to join a parents-teacher conference, but would whisper filthy things on the internet.

“I ain’t tryna make you embarrassed,” he huffed out. “I just wanna know you’re safe.”

How nice. If only he knew why you went on dates in the first place.

“He’s alright, Mr. Miller. Kind, decently groomed, respectful,” you replied, flicking through your Twitter feed mindlessly. “Better than most college guys.”

“Did he pick you up?”

Your forehead scrunched up. “I ordered a cab.”

“Did he at least get the door for you?”

“It’s not exactly the 1900’s, is it?” you quipped back at him.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your answer.

“If you’re that curious, then no.”

“Well then, did he pay for dinner?”

“No, well.. I did offer for us to split it,” you reasoned.

“Well, sweetie, he’s not too respectful. Is he?”

“Yeah.. but he’s cute.”

He’s cute and you’re desperate to get over Mr. Miller. Terribly so. At first, the entire situation with having your pornstar crush be the head of your host family was hilarious, it’s a joke written by itself. But then the desires went through the roof in a matter of weeks and you’re sure that you’d actually jump him one of these days. He’s attached to the back of your mind like some ghostly presence. Everything he said and done carved at your brittle wall of determination and one day it’s all going to fall apart like broken glass. You needed to stop it from happening. 

There was a minute or so where he didn’t have anything to say. He hadn’t let go of the handbrakes either, though he appeared to be squeezing the leather cover of the steering wheel tighter.

“Cute ain’t enough for a man, sweetheart.”

Mr. Miller finally pushed down the handbrakes and released the pickup truck from the small parking lot. His large hands skillfully turned the wheels to fit through the tiny gaps, guiding the vehicle towards the open road. You shut your eyes for a good minute, then you let out a weighted sigh. Almost as if you’re a deflated balloon.

The drive was going to be a long one, considering the restaurant you’re on was in the heart of the town and Mr. Miller’s humble abode was more towards the outskirts. Would he continue preaching about the importance of Southern manners and being a gentleman? Because if he did, perhaps you’d just shut him up with a kiss.

“I’m just a little nervous,” you broke the silence.

“Because of the boy?”

“Sorta, yeah. It’s my first time..”

You clicked your phone shut, stuffing it on the cup holder next to the car stick. The entire conversation was making you nauseous. You had to press on the button on your left to slide down the windows in order to take in fresh air. Through the open window, a gentle breeze tousled the top of your hair, carrying with it the familiar scent of Summer in Austin. As he drove closer into the outskirts of town, the lights gradually faded behind into a sea of twinkling stars.

“First time in what?”

“In all this,” your hand motioned the idea abstractly.

“You’ve never dated?”

An enthusiastic grin snaked its way to his lips.

“I have! But it’s not- it’s not real. It’s middle school romance. We meet each other in the hallways, hold hands and giggle about it, then go on pizza dates,” you tried to explain. “I’ve never dated properly.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” you tousled your hair in frustration. “Just because, Mr. Miller. I’m not sure either. Maybe I’m just comfortable in my own little bubble?”

“Then this boy.. What’s his name again?”

“Simon.”

“Right, Simon. Are you thinking of dating Simon properly?”

“Maybe,” you muttered.

“Maybe I could teach you,” he paused. “Well, that is if you’d like this old man to teach you old tricks.”

Your hands tightly clutched the edge of your seat. A rise of bile disturbed your throat's peace as a knot of anxiety started to form in your stomach. This is what you’re working towards.

You didn’t want to admit it, because admitting means legitimizing what you had in mind, but you were hoping for him to offer you help in any way that he felt was right. Despite your.. odd relationship with him, he was your guardian and you’ve seen the way he dealt with all Sarah’s problems with soft-spoken words and fair actions. You trusted him to help you delve into this new world of adult romance, but it’s not like you’re expecting for him to agree on it. Shit, shit, shit! You couldn’t think straight.

“Com’on then. Tell me what you’re so nervous of.”

“You’re gonna laugh at me,” you groaned.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” you persisted.

“Fine. I promise not to laugh.”

You took a deep breath. The single word sticky on the end of your tongue.

“Sex.”

The pickup truck swerved.

To your surprise, instead of howling and laughing at your lack of experience, he was quiet. Awfully so to the point where you think you’d rather have him laugh at your patheticness instead of giving you the cold shoulder. You rolled the window back up, giving him your full attention as you waited for him to do something. He looked tense; the grip he had on the steering wheel was so tight you could see the leather developing crescent-shaped marks. What was he thinking of?

“Do I.. do I have to give you the talk?”

“God, no! Mr. Miller, I’m not clueless,” you looked horrified that he even considered giving you the birds and the bees talk. “I am, but I know what happens.”

The hours you’ve spent analyzing each and every one of his videos surely made an impact on how you view sex. Perhaps not the most accurate one, since you were merely looking through a 720p video and not being present in the scene, but you knew how sex goes. How it starts, what arousal looks like, what appears to feel good and what doesn’t, and how good an orgasm looks like when induced by another person. Mr. Miller might not be aware of how much he’s taught you. Not directly, but in a cause-and-action kind of way.

“Then what are you afraid of?” he hummed.

“Making a mistake,” you muttered dejectedly. “Of it not feeling good.”

A beat passed.

“Do you..” he struggled to speak properly. “Do you want me to teach you?”

What were you thinking! It was one thing to harbor intense, disgustingly filthy feelings towards a man who perceived you as an addition to his family, but it was another thing to act on it desperately. Your mind reeled back towards the exact moment when you agreed on his proposition. How you agreed on it instantly as if it wasn’t even a question, how you nodded your head miserably as if you were afraid that you’d miss this one chance, how you buckled your knees at the thought.

God, how pathetic can you be! You didn’t remember much after such a cathartic turn of events. All you managed to compile in that pretty little head of yours was that he took a different interchange, then slipped onto a highway towards.. whatever this place was.

It was on the outskirts of town. Opposite to where he lived. Big trees grew tall and heavy as they provided a mystique veil for the trailer house. You remembered the shade of peeling paint covering the outside, sky blue. The lanterns provided ample lighting for it to be spotted from a distance, but not enough to attract rowdy attention. Mr. Miller told you to come inside first while he secured his pickup truck properly. He mentioned a thing or two about racoons or squirrels, but you were too high off adrenaline to even notice. Being in the property, you instantly knew where you were.

This was his lair.

Where he shoots his videos, where he invites all his pretty co-stars to make them moan and whimper about how good his cock felt and how deep it went, where he edits those striking millennial-core thumbnails. Your throat grew dry and you began to think if it’s time to bail. He’d understand, wouldn’t he? Mr. Miller would just take you home and forget about it. Then, by next summer, you’d be out of his hair and he’d never even think about it.

A creak sounded from the front door. You jumped.

“Hi, sweetheart. You okay?”

You nodded. Your entire body went cold, especially the tips of your fingers and toes as you saw him come close. One step at a time. Almost as if he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t scare you too much. Mr. Miller looked awfully big up close. You never seemed to notice this entirely when you see him around the house, but when he’s confined in this miniscule trailer house, he looked massive. His presence towered over every last bit of your confidence. It’s surely crumpling - your confidence - slowly dissipating into thin when he was flushed against your chest. 

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller.”

He pulled a foldable chair from one of the open compartments, before taking a seat on it. He spread his legs, as always, and had this look in his eyes. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” he paused, before resuming. “You could tell me you don’t feel like doin’ this anymore and I could take you home. Won’t talk about it anymore if you don’t wanna.”

“I.. I want to do this, Mr. Miller.”

“Are you sure? There ain’t no pressure in this. I’m simply here to help you, sweetheart, so if you feel like-”

“I get it, okay, I get it. I trust you. A lot. And I know you’d be the best person to teach me.”

What were you even saying? This was straight out of your wildest wet dreams and perhaps that’s why you’re so adamant about it. You watched silently as he contemplated his choices. Mr. Miller scratched his beard for a short while, his gaze focused beyond you and you could almost watch in real-time how his morals and values crumbled onto the creaky floorboards. He stood up from his small chair and headed right towards where you were standing idly. Is this what May felt like in those videos?

“Alright, sweetheart. I ain’t a vocal man so this is gonna be challenging even for me,” he chuckled gruffly. “Every man has their way of settlin’ with their ladies, but I like ‘em stripped off their clothing first. So will you be a pretty thing and do that for me?”

For a second, you were as still as a rock. Entirely not used to having the person who initiated many if not all of your orgasms giving you these orders in real life. He’s right there in front of you, flesh and bones, telling you to strip off your clothing. It felt like a fever dream. You must’ve had a weird look on your face, because a grin started to form on those chapped lips of his.

Conscious of the mistake, you quickly reacted. Almost skittishly in a way as you pulled on the zipper that’s located on your right ribs. Your fingers fumbled with one another, as if it’s been braided into one, but you managed to loosen it after a few attempts. You slipped your right arm under the spaghetti straps, before you slipped the other one. The only thing holding your modesty together was your one arm that’s holding onto the support-less front flap of your sundress.

“Com’on now. It’s just me. You can act shy and adorable around Simon, but not this old man,” he teased.

You nodded, hesitantly letting your arms fall to the side. The terribly warm weather encouraged you not to wear a bra. Although you wondered if 3 PM you knew that you’re going to be engaging in some promiscuous agenda this evening. You looked up into his eyes for some kind of guidance, in which he responded with a curt nod, before you tugged on the dress so that it’d slide onto the floor.

Now the only piece of modesty you’re wearing is your plain white panties. Your breasts were entirely exposed, cold nipples firming up as it reacted to the change of temperature. This is embarrassing! Mr. Miller was being incredibly methodical in the ways in which he approached the situation, lacking sloppy mouthy kisses and feverish touches.

“Smart girl,” he complimented, almost on instinct. “Let’s get on the bed, yeah?”

You moved adjacent to him. Mr. Miller was gentle when he patted the spot next to him, allowing you to settle down properly while he fixed a pillow behind your back. To think that you’re positioned on the same bed where you’ve witnessed him please an array of girls made you feel some sort of way. A hitch in your heart, a twitch in your hole. You’ve never witnessed him this gentle. He’s always fond of establishing the power he held on the dynamic he’s presented, always telling girls what to do in quick succession and calling them humiliating names if they fail to do as told. With you, he was sweet and rather funny.

“In my experience, one of the things girls like the most is to be withdrawn from control,” he spoke up into the thick air. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cruised along your beaded nipples, or the way it watched you with feral precision. “Of course, it depends on the person. But you. I think you’re a sensitive one, are you?”

You nodded obediently.

“Cross your arms behind your back,” he ordered and watched closely as you followed suit. “Lean back onto the pillow.”

You copied his order. Only then did your finicky brain finally compute that you’re limited off your movements now. With your body weight acting like paper weight for your arms, it’d be impossible for you to react in quick time.

“Good girl.”

His mindless comment made you tighten your thighs together.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” he whispered gently. You could watch how he’s slowly approaching you with much caution. His arms caged you in as it dug into the tangled sheets next to you. He’s testing the currents, making sure you’re fully consenting to the experience before he makes any mistake that might ruin your perception of sex. “Ask your little friend to touch you slowly. None of that frisky aimless touching. If he pulled on your nipples and called it a day, I’d leave his ass.”

This little routine he had, the one Wicked Fantasies had, was memorized into your head and to watch it take place right in front of you made you ecstatic. He caressed the side of your face. Gently even with those big, large fingers of his, he managed to take up a good portion of your cheek. Mr. Miller then made his way to your lips. He swiped it once over your upper lip, then another time over your thicker bottom lip. You’d anticipate for him to stick his thumb in deep enough so that he could see your uvula properly, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on pressing down your tongue as if to pin it against the lower floor of your mouth. A good amount of saliva was collected that when he pulled away, a lewd string remained intact.

“Do you know why I like pinning a girl’s tongue down?” he queried to increase comfort in a way.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly. “Why?”

“It makes ‘em docile,” he muttered. “Encourages submission and I like a pretty girl who listens.”

Mr. Miller’s fingers dragged through the curves and texture of your warm skin, leaving goosebumps on his wake, before he finally reached your two perky nubs. Each one hardened before he could give them the treatment they both deserved, which in a way broke his routine, but instead of being irritated, he appeared to be pleased.

Girls in his videos weren’t as sensitive as you. They didn’t get riled up just by a little touching and teasing. Seeing you like this was a refreshing touch. One that made the wrinkles on his forehead ripple as his eyebrows quirked. He circled his calloused finger around where the pigmentation started. Once, twice. Right until he was merciful enough to press against the apex of your nipples.

You squirmed.

“So sensitive, are you?” he cooed. “Tell Simon to play with your sensitive little nipples, hm? You look like you could cum just by this.”

“O-oh please!”

“Please?”

You couldn’t respond. Not when he’s rolling the most sensitive part of your nipples between the pads of his thumb and the side of his pointer finger. Touching your breasts with your own nimble hands felt nothing like what he’s doing right now. You instinctually grinded your leaking pussy down onto the bed, almost like an animal in heat.

“Poor thing couldn’t even tell me what she wants. What would Simon think, hm? A girl with no self control like you,” he hummed. Mr. Miller quickly held onto your thighs so that you’d stop rocking onto the bed and getting off from pleasure he’s not offering. Your eyes met his, searching for help, but the sweet and respectful Mr. Miller wasn’t there anymore. “Alright now, sweetheart. You have ta make sure that you’re thoroughly aroused before thinkin’ of even touchin’ this place.”

“You’re new at this,” he hummed. His fingers slipped off the hold he had on your nipples before it slid down your stomach and settled precisely above your clothed clitoris. “It’s gonna hurt bad if you’re not properly lubricated. Sex is supposed to be fun, not painful so if some guy tells you that it’s supposed to hurt, don’t listen to his dumb shit.”

Mr. Miller was incredibly informative if you put aside the fact that he’s touching you in all the right places that it’s making you go dumb. He spent the time explaining why an action must be provided and how to perform it, when you know for a fact that this is not what he’s used to doing. Wicked Fantasies was known to be straight with words, using minimal sentences to provide his co-stars with just the right amount of information. You could tell he’s holding back the urge to be meaner, to act the way he likes, just for you to be more comfortable.

“Let’s take a look, shall we? You think I did a good job, darlin’?”

It’s dark out. There’s only one source of light that’s present in the room. A small bedside lamp in the shape of an elephant, Sarah’s favorite animal that’s grown to be yours as well. This session with him felt intimate; you’d expect for him to bring out the bright light panels and reflectors just like in those videos you watched of him, but instead, he mostly depended on the moonlight rays.

You were acutely aware of how those dark eyes of his mirrored your own. The way he studied you was unlike any other, not with an invasive intent, but rather with heed. You watched as he hooked his fingers on each side of your panties. Slowly dragging it down, only to stop to wait for you to ease your thighs upwards.

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “I’m right about you bein’ sensitive. Don’t think we need any lube when your pussy looks like this.”

By instinct, you brought your thighs together, shy that he’s observing you with such vulgar intensity. He hummed out a tone of disapproval and quickly placed his arms on both of your knees, prying the two apart as if he’s opening a stubborn can of bolognese. You bit your bottom lip, stifling the noise of embarrassment.

Anxiety bubbled up inside of you. You wondered if you looked okay down there - no other men had seen it besides him! - or if there was something strange that caused him to halt. There was a lewd string of sticky arousal pooling on the center of your panties. You silently watched as it stretched and broke as Mr. Miller pulled the thin fabric away.

“You’re soaked, sweetie,” he teased.

“Mr. Miller, that’s- that’s embarrassing..”

“You like to touch yourself, don’t you?”

Your eyes flickered towards his direction in fear. Has he discovered your incurable obsession for him and his erotic videos? That couldn’t be, could it? There’s no scientific correlation between being extremely aroused with masturbation as far as you’re aware, but the confidence he exude made you doubt yourself. Mr. Miller moved in a painfully slow tempo, taking his time to caress your inner thighs and stomach before even considering touching you where it ached. His calloused fingers felt different against your skin. It left a fiery trail in its wake.

“No, I don’t,” you lied with a breathless squeak.

“It’s okay if you like to touch yourself, y’know,” he whispered as if taunting you. “Girls who like to touch themselves understand themselves better.”

Mr. Miller finally touched you properly. His pointer finger probed against your clitoris, touching in the lightest feathery manner possible that you couldn’t have felt it if you weren’t concentrating. Your hips followed the brief source of pleasure, only to be disappointed when you notice that he wasn’t there. He pulled his finger close to his mouth and made a big show out of it. The way your arousal glistened under the pale moon rays, Mr. Miller teased you with his expressions and mannerism. He dipped the stained finger in his lips to have a good taste while keeping  eye contact.

“Please touch me.”

“What was that, sweetheart?” he hummed.

“Please touch me again. It feels go-”

You were cut off immediately when he lazily drew a perfect circle on top of your hooded clit.

“Fuck, please, please, sir.”

Ah, he liked that. He liked the new name you’ve granted him. Mr. Miller was kind enough to resume what he was doing. His finger descended down onto your throbbing hole to gather a good amount of slick before he brought it up to aid his ventures.

“The best way to feel good is controlled pleasure. It feels better to be denied than to receive boring continual pleasure, so..” he paused his movement all together. “I’m gonna teach you a little game.”

“A little game..” you sounded like you’re about to cry from his sudden withdrawal.

“Count to ten, properly. Then I’ll reward you with more. If you fail, then we gotta start from the very beginning,” he explained. His warm breath fanning over your sensitive clit. “You think you can do that, pretty girl?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll start now.”

“One, two..”

You felt how he made his laps around your nub. It was much more intense than the pleasures you’ve initiated before. Compared to rutting against a pillow, grinding against a bedpost, or laying under the tub’s running water, this felt like an entire new experience. You fought to keep still, but it’s gradually getting harder when his finger starts prodding against your tight little hole.

“Three, four. Please, Mr. Miller. Oh god,” you whimpered by accident. He didn’t like that one bit by the look he gave you. There weren’t rules and promises to this, no dynamic the two of you have agreed on, but you couldn’t help but be terrified of his disapproval. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.”

“From the start,” he ordered.

“One, two, three..”

You could barely remember the numbers in your head despite encountering them almost every day of the week. You’re a smart girl, knows your ways around things, but being touched by Mr. Miller makes you go all dumb.

“Four, five, six..”

Your thighs began to twitch and spasm. You catched the way he pulled back the hood to your clit to get a more direct touch. It was working wonders as the sensation now is a lot more electrifying. Arousal dribbled down your twitching hole and onto the crack of your rear, wetting the sheets beneath you with the sticky clear substance.

“Seven, eight, n- nine!”

You jutted your hips out when his fingers brushed over your clit once more, the sensitive bundle of nerves extra aware of his presence, and he managed to hold you back once more. He’s forgiving. You knew he’d punish his co-stars if they couldn’t stay still like you, but he let this one slide. He continued rubbing slow, tight circles only to alter into an eight shape.

“Ten.”

The ultimatum. It has arrived, your key to heaven.

“Smart girl,” he cooed, never actually stopping. “This little hole of yours looks neglected, hm?”

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Touch your clit slowly like I taught you,” he ordered. “You can do that can you, sweetheart?”

You nodded, distraught and ruined. With his sweet permission, you pulled one arm out from your back and rested it right above your clit. Slow and steady. Just like how he ordered. Mr. Miller on the other hand was slicking up his pointer finger with his tongue. Fuck, that looks so god damn hot.

He had pressed his sole finger deep into your warmth with no hesitation whatsoever. The combination of his calloused finger against your walls and the golden freckles inside his narrowed irises had you reaching out for his forearm. Your nails came in contact with his skin as you dug upon it, crescent shapes formed in pinkish shades atop his skin. You had to sit up as the only way you’re getting through this is by leaning on his sturdy arm.

“Oh, you like that, huh? Filthy girls like you love to get their holes filled?”

What you didn’t expect was having him press a second finger in. His one finger was thicker than what you’re used to, but two fingers? That makes you an overachiever for sure. You looked up to meet his eyes frantically. You knew he wouldn’t be kind enough to withdraw the action when his mind is already set on it, but it was worth the try. He cocked his head arrogantly as he pursued his plans. Mr. Miller’s middle finger was a tight fit. Barely able to slip past the ring of muscles. Though when he did manage to get himself in, a loud moan escaped your lips. 

“Mr. Miller. I can’t- I’ve never- never taken two fingers!”

“I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his free hand went over to run over your sweaty hair, admiring every inch of you. “You wanna please that boy, don’t you? Little Simon?”

He was skillful with his fingers, perhaps from his job requirements. Although it’s still incredible how he managed to have you squirming, yelling how you’re about to cum in a matter of seconds. All he did was switch between pumping the two in you, creating the filthiest sounds, and reaching upwards to hit that certain spot of yours. You rubbed your clit with much concentration as you followed after his thrusts.

“Mr- oh.. Mr. Miller! I’m gonna cum, sir.”

“You’re gonna do that for me?” he grinned, pushing his fingers into you as deep as they could go. He maintained a steady pace, emphasizing pressure on that spongy spot up top that you’ve never managed to reach with your stubby fingers. “Pretty girl gonna cum from my fingers?”

“Yes, yes.. sir. Please.”

“Cum for me, darlin’” he whispered. “Show me how good you can be.”

Oh god, you're in a lot of trouble.

[moon1833]

Arrogance

Warning: smut, female reader, enemies to friends to lovers kinda, hate-fucking, semi-public sex, reader is wearing a skirt, Tsukishima is a bottom and I will die on this hill, female reader, College!Tsukishima

He was mean. Agonizingly rude and arrogant. And to you, you saw that as a competition. You wouldn't call yourself mean, but you defiantly didn't let any of his bullshit slide. You made that abundantly clear at your first meeting. You had know of the blonde boy in your class since you started Karasuno College, but luckily avoided him up until the end of your first year.

"Watch where you're going, shorty. Some of the grownups need to get through." He smirked, barely looking at you as he knocked into you.

He half expected to hear a remark from your pretty mouth, or maybe you'd just roll your eyes and walk away. What he didn't expect, was for you to grab his bicep and shove him into the wall with most of your strength. You weren't trying to hurt him, but you knew it would take a lot to move the third year middle blocker. You were in a bitter mood.

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you." You watch him stumble back slightly, eyes wide with shock. His lips part to speak, but you don't wait for him to respond, turning towards your next class.

Tsukishima had never been spoken to like that by a complete stranger. He supposed it was warranted, he wasn't oblivious to how rude he was to others. He just didn't think he'd be able to invoke that reaction from you of all people.

From then on, he made sure to glare at you whenever he got the chance, which happened to be often since you were now in the same class. Tsukishima made it his mission to pester you, and every single time, you put him in his place.

It started an odd relationship between the two of you. Neither of you would call each other friends, but you'd both be lying if you said you didn't seek out the other one, even if it was just to argue.

You sat in class one morning, the seat of the desk uncomfortable as you watched the teacher hand out the graded exams from last week. You didn't need to turn your head to see Tsukishima's eyes narrowed onto you, bouncing his leg with anticipation.

Your teacher places the exam face down on your desk, and you flip it over swiftly, trying not to look too eager. You smirk as your eyes trail to the boy in the row next to you, turning the paper to him so he could read the 100 marked proudly in the right corner of the paper.

You watch his gaze darken, scowling as he turns away from you. You fake coo at his actions, watching his left hand grip the desk until his knuckles turned white.

The teacher handed back Tsukishima's exam last, and you tried to peer at his score to no avail. The teacher dismissed the class soon after, and you found yourself chasing after the blonde, curious to see just how many points you beat him by.

"Don't get shy on me now." You say cockily, standing next to his desk and peering down on him.

He glares back up at you, a tinge of embarrassment obvious due to his reddening ears. Even if this was the only expression you ever saw him give you, it satisfied a part of you.

Neither of you notice the rest of the class leave, as well as the teacher.

"How'd you manage cheat this time?" Tsukishima asks, but even he knows it's a weak cover-up.

"Aw, that was almost a retort." You smile.

"Being around idiots lowers my brain cells." He rolls his eyes, trying to slide his exam into his backpack without you seeing the score.

Quickly, you snatch the paper from him, turning around so he can't grab it. Tsukishima lunges, reaching around you, caging you with his arms and pressing your hips against the side of the desk.

You try to relish in the fact that he got a 96, but you can't when he's pressed against you so closely you can feel his breath on your neck.

Caught by surprise, a small sound escapes from your lips, suddenly very loud in the empty room.

Tsukishima stops, unsure if he really just heard the small moan you made or if he was starting to confuse his daydreams with real life. But, one of his hands holding yours behind your back as the other grasped the paper on the desk in front of you was very, very real.

"Oh?" Tsukishima questions, his grip on your wrists tightening slightly.

When you don't make any efforts to move away, Tsukishima peers his head down by your ear, his lips grazing your skin as he whispers.

"Don't tell me you like this, y/n."

You snap back, pushing him off of you and turning around. You put your hands on his chest, shoving him back while keeping your fists tight around the material of his shirt.

His glasses are crooked slightly, and he stares at you with a hunger in his eyes. And then it hits you.

"Don't tell me you like it when I put you in your place, Tsukishima." Your hands reach higher, now gripping his collar.

You watch the blush creep up Tsukishima's neck, grinning. You're barely inches away, and he takes a step back in an attempt to catch his breath. His legs hit the front of a chair and you're climbing onto his lap before he's even fully sat down.

His hands fly to your waist instantly, steadying you on his thighs. You take his glasses off before trailing your fingers over the curve of his lips, leaning in slowly.

Your lips just graze his, but Tsukishima grasps the back of your head, greedily kissing you. You respond by kissing him back harder, parting your lips and pressing your body even further into him.

You don't miss how he lets out the smallest of whimpers at you grounding your hips against him, feeling him under you. You grin, grinding back and forth to pull more noises from him.

"I'm going to lose control if you keep doing that." Tsukishima admits, sounding short of breath.

"You haven't had an ounce of control since you walked into this classroom." You sneer, kissing down his jaw roughly. "You can stop pretending to fight me."

Tsukishima tilts his head back, hitting the wall softly as he started breathing deeply, feeling as though he could cum from your words alone. It was embarrassing the effect you had on him.

You reach a certain spot on his neck, causing Tsukishima to jerk his. hips up slightly as he sighs.

You wanted to toy with him for as long as you could, but you knew you had limited time. Hurriedly, you tugged at his belt, palming at his dick through his pants.

Tsukishima adjusted himself, unzipping his pants and trailing a hand up your thigh. You lifted your hips up, giving him room as you continued to leave hickies down his collar bone.

His hand was now under your skirt, delicately gripping your waist. The other was rubbing his tip, watching you eye his cock. Wordlessly, you pulled your panties to the side, sinking down on him.

You knew it was going to hurt with no prep and his size, but you didn't want to give him that satisfaction. You eased down on him, bitting your lip as you bottomed out. Tsukishima buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a moan.

You wrapped your fingers around his hair, tugging him back and forcing him to look at you. Your hand trailed to his throat, tightening slightly but not choking him.

"Be quiet." You whisper, looking at him sharply. Tsukishima's looking up at you with half lidded eyes, his mouth parted. He's on the verge of bliss and he's not hiding it anymore.

After sinking down fully, you crossed your arms, shifting your hips to get used to the feeling. He bucks his hips up, desperate for more.

"Pathetic." You say, moving your hips up and down slowly. His long fingers are digging into your hips, and his eyes are pleading with you.

"If you want something you're going to need to ask for it." You tease.

"Please," Tsukishima has lost all dignity, feeling so pussydrunk he thinks he'd kill to be inside you for a minute more. "need you to use me."

You grab his jaw, peppering kisses on his cheek as you speed your hips up, whispering encouragement in his ear.

Tsukishima let all control slip away from him as his orgasm built, holding you closer by the small of your back. His big hands wrapped around your waist and you let him attempt to muffle his sounds in the crook of your neck.

He was trying his best to hold off his orgasm, but between your tits nearly bouncing out of your shirt and the degrading words slipping from your kiss-bitten mouth, he didn't last very long.

A few minutes later you were viciously riding out his orgasm, but pink in the face and suddenly hit with the realization of what you just did.

Panic hit you momentarily, until Tsukishima kissed the top of your head, mumbling a “I’m never going to win an argument against you ever again.”

“No, I don’t think so.” You say. “Unless you want to end up like this again.”

“I wasn’t going to stop either way, but I appreciate the encouragement.”

[lxclerc]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary… charles tries to help his girlfriend study but that proves to be difficult when he doesn’t understand a single thing requested… yes! warning… none. pure fluff.

note… another old drabble request from the graves of my inbox. also as a med student, i adore this idea so much

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

charles has never been the brightest tool in the shed when it came to academics. he supposes it comes with the occupation. growing up, he cared far too much about racing that he had no space left in his mind to care about school too. he was always meant to be a formula one driver so he never cared about the cell or the mitochondria.

ironically, you were the exact opposite. like him, you’ve known what you were meant to be the moment you got ahold of your first book. you’re going to be a doctor, a healer and you’ve dedicated yourself to that dream.

the human body is a beautiful machine, much like the universe. every little cell and atom circulating its vessel holds a purpose, creating a balance between life and death. it’s majestic, truly and a little bit scary. if one thing failed then the entire system could collapse and so you studied and studied and studied for ways to keep that system going, to cure ailments and diseases.

you thrive off academic validation and a minor superiority complex and yet somehow you’re the most anxious person charles has ever met.

he’s madly in love with you. this is a fact. him and his dream that required him to constantly put his life at risk and you with your dream of helping and saving people. really it was a match made in heaven. and charles is madly madly in love with you.

that’s the only reasonable explanation as he pulled himself out of his sim practice, seamlessly moving around the kitchen of your shared apartment as he prepared an ice coffee for you.

you’re drained and you’re on the verge of breaking down and so when he wrapped his arms around you and offered to help you study for your finals, you’d all but cried in gratitude.

no, charles leclerc didn’t care about the cell and mitochondria and but he cares greatly for you and so he’d study it if it meant you’d finally allow yourself to rest.

unfortunately for him, you’re way past learning about the mitochondria. instead you’re studying your worst enemy aka pharmacology.

“angiotensin receptor blockers prevent vasoconstriction and aldosterone release, causing a decrease in blood pressure and peripheral resistance,” you recite from the top of your head, still looking like you’re on the verge of tears but slightly better.

charles shook his head as he held the book you’d given him to help you study, his glasses on. “non, non, amour. it says here it’s ‘angiotensin receptor blockers selectively bind to the angiotensin I receptors in the blood vessels to prevent vasoconstriction and in the adrenal cortex to prevent release of aldosterone then lead to decrease in BP caused by decrease in peripheral resistance and blood volume.’”

you sigh again but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you. the first time he did it, you’d gotten frustrated but at this point, your brain is far too fried to even get annoyed at him. especially when even he looks like he’s about to start crying.

you pushed away the book from his hand, clumsily crawling over to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pushing him down so he’d be laying on the sofa and you on top of him.

“my love, i don’t need to memorize everything word for word from the book,” you explain as gently as you can for the third time. you know he’s just trying his best to help you.

“why?” he frowned. “wouldn’t it be better if you knew it exactly from the book?”

you giggled. “perhaps but no med student would ever survive memorizing twelve inch books word for word. we’d simply all break down and die.”

you hold yourself up, pushing his hair off his forehead before removing his glasses. he still looks confused but a lot of things honestly confused charles. thank god he has a smart girlfriend to explain everything to him.

“stop worrying about it,” you say. “i’ve studied enough and we both need a break.”

he sighed in relief, tightening his arms around you. “thank god i felt like my brain was put on a pressure dryer for a minute there.”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny

[exquisink]

love on the brain, geto/reader, part 2/?

cw. geto coming onto you a lot, mentions of harassment, slight reader/nanami that might not go anywhere, idk what this even really is if i’m honest.

wc. 5.5K

previous / next

He’s staring you down.

You’re staring him down back. You have other plans. You have to meet with Nanami in a few hours… and you’re scared to turn your back on the man before you lest he pull a knife out on you or some kind of worse way to threaten you with violence. You don’t think he’s above something like that, given everything.

On one hand, you know better than to test Geto’s patience. It’s true that he is a patient man, almost to a fault, but he has drawn the line with you when you wanted to cut things off cold turkey. And can he blame you!? You don’t remember being an active participant, more like a pliant one… and he likes his women pliant, that much you are confident in terms of reading anything concerning Geto’s psyche and you’re not in that field. You probably don’t need to be a leading psychologist or expert on the human condition in order to conclude that not only is he underdeveloped when it comes to proper adult communication, he’s underdeveloped… as a whole. It’s no wonder he’s drawn to like-minded individuals like Satoru Gojo, because he probably makes up the majority of his brain cells and that’s probably being too generous.

“I don’t know what you think you plan to accomplish, but nothing you do is going to work. It’s best to just drop it now, Geto.”

”First of all, stop calling me Geto. You don’t get to call me that.”

You clench your fists at your sides, stifling a groan.

”Then what the hell would you rather me call you? The POS that actively ruins my life and self-esteem?”

”I was hoping for the opposite effect!” Geto shouts, that desperation still evident in his tone that’s kind of a good look on him if you’re completely honest. It’s right where he deserves to be given everything that’s transpired in the last few months between you two.

“And once again, we clearly see how that is going for you! God, are you sure you have a brain in there?” You smack your forehead, dragging your hand down your face and lingering on your lower lip for a few moments. You have half a mind to knock on his skull like a door but you have a feeling all that is going to do is confirm your suspicions of there being no one home.

“Please,” he begs, stepping forward and gripping your elbows, making you freeze in place. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

”Don’t dismiss my feelings as ridiculous—they’re perfectly valid,” you retort as you brush him off, and he easily lets you go this time but frowns as he watches you wipe off any residual energy from him. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Geto. As of today, well, as of pretty much ever, you’re dead to me. I just have to remind you of where your place is in my life again.”

With that, you storm off, and you won’t be surprised if you left behind a trail of steam behind because he gets under your skin in ways no one else seems to be able to at all. You hope you’re going to have a clearer head later that evening because you’re gong to need it if you want to pass that exam with flying colors. You’re not known to slip up that easily in performance, even when you have had the man you hated the most holding something over you for the past few months. Now that’s over, and you have such a heavy weight lifted off of your shoulders that the stroll to the library’s fifth floor feels like a breeze. You anticipate getting him alone and maybe officially asking him out. You hope you’re not in over your head though because honestly? Kento Nanami is every woman’s dream man and you have not a single doubt in your mind that he has an endless line of other perfectly capable women to court. 

That’s not going to stop you from doing your best, though. You’re no better than other girls, alright? You don’t claim to be either! You have your weaknesses.  And that’s sexy gentlemen like Nanami. You spot him in a secluded corner of the fifth floor, and this is the floor that’s usually quieter because everyone’s more focused on their agenas, and you take a minute to fluff your hair and fix yourself up before approaching him with your hands clasped behind your back and your messenger bag beginning to slip down to your right elbow.

”Is it just us tonight?” you ask as you make your presence known, and Nanami glances up from the textbook he’d been scanning the areas he’d highlighted over again. He acknowledges you with the faintest hint of a smile that makes your knees want to buckle then and.there. It’s not fair that someone can carry so much power in such a normal gesture.

”Why? Would you feel more comfortable if we got more people to join us?”

You shake your head. “No, this is good. So how far along are you in the material?”

”I”m mostly reviewing right now,” he answers as he flips to the next page which has a lot of scarcely highlighted parts. He must know the material for this class all too well. “Is there anything you’re struggling to understand?”

”So much,” you admit as you sit down next to him, pulling out your textbook from the messenger bag and your smart tablet. “Can you walk me through this segment?”

You point to a few passages in the book. Which you have read over and over and over and you think you understand (scratch that, you know you understand, but you just want an excuse to let Nanami take the wheel and where’s the harm in letting a sexy man like him take charge?). You look at him with those beady eyes of yours and Nanami lets out a little scoff. 

“Alright, Miss. Let’s go back to the basics with this concept…”

He’s able to go into detail, and breezes through the bare bones of the concept because he treats you like you’re knowledgeable and not at all hapless or helpless unlike a certain somebody that crosses your mind every time you have to make a comparison. Geto is not the man you want in your life; he never has been, and yet he is going so far to make a point to snag you into his little web. 

You refuse to give him that satisfaction. You are moving up in your world, and he can keep going downhill in his—and you know it’s going to get worse because you’re pretty sure you’re the reason he’s been a bit more annoying than usual and now he’s going to be all sulky and quiet and it’s definitely going to be a refreshing change of pace.

It’s also refreshing to know that you’re phone is going to be drier than the Sahara desert since he’s not going to be spamming you anymore. Finally, some long awaited peace and you can actually get what you want this time.

”Did you get all that?”

You nod, glad the dull lighting of the library is hiding your blushing well as you scribble down a lot of the extra points he’s given you about certain topics that didn’t even cross your mind. 

“I think so. Have you ever thought of actually becoming a professor? Because I think you explain concepts better than any I ever had. I know i’d definitely be paying attention to every word you say,” you drawl as you playfully squeeze his bicep, admiring how firm the muscles feel against your palm before quickly retracting your hand and averting your gaze from his face back to your messy notes. You have no idea how you’re going to interpret your chicken scratch later.

Suddenly you feel Nanami’s gaze shift from you furiously rewriting some of your illegible notes to some other point in the room and you don’t realize that’s a bad thing until you glance through your eyelashes to catch the faintest hint of a figure you hoped you didn’t see too soon outside of the necessary times, like during a lecture. And even then, you have planned on opting to watch them all online so as to strategically avoid him.

”Seems he’s here for his own business,” Nanami mutters as he shields you a bit with his body, waiting for Geto to leave the area you’re in; he disappears somewhere into one of the computer labs. You breathe out in relief. 

“We both made it pretty clear that I don’t want him near me,” you sigh, before meeting Nanami’s eyes. “Thank you for that earlier. You don’t need to concern yourself over me that much. I’m glad you care as much as you do about me, though.”

”Of course,” he replies, his face softening, “I’m just not terribly keen on that entire group. Haibara hangs around them a lot, and I can’t for the life of me understand his infatuation with Geto. He has some kind of weird, fanboy crush on him.”

”Oh please, talk him out of that! Geto is not someone you want to learn from,” you complain, “Haibara is way too sweet to become a walking replica of that piece of shit.”

”You and I agree on that,” he laughs, as he glances at his pocket watch. “I should probably head back to the dorms. Speaking of Haibara, he’s been wanting to try one of the new restaurants that opened near campus.”

”Oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your tone but unfortunately you have your own life outside of trying to court Nanami too. “So then we can regroup later?”

”You can count on it, Miss. Do you want me to escort you out of here so you don’t have to run into Geto, or can you handle it?”

”I don’t want to make you feel obligated to watch over me,” you answer, “But that is sweet of you to offer. I think I’ll be fine. I can’t let him run my life forever, I guess. That’s the whole reason I cut things off.”

”Atta girl,” he praises before gathering his things and leaving you to your devices.

Which is another mistake you make, because in strolls Geto, eyeballing you with a strange gleam in his eyes. You opt to the classic if you ignore it it will go away route, working on revising your notes to review later for that damn exam. But you still feel his eyes trained on you like you’re an entertaining episode of a soap opera or a particularly gripping documentary on how to repel a lady in less than a few nanoseconds. You feel a flash of irritation as your eyes roll up to find him still glued in his spot, a couple of books stacked in his hands and you make a face at him. Mouthing at him to fuck right off because you have shit to do that is completely unrelated to the fact that he unfortunately coexists on this goddamn Earth with you.

He doesn’t take the hint as per fucking usual and approaches your area, settling his stack of books on a nearby table and stuffing his hands into his pockets. As if trying to prove something maybe? Like he’s not armed and he’s actually going to respect your personal space never mind the fact that he’s just beseeched every other boundary you have enforced on him so far.

”Get the fuck out of here,” you sneer at him, “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

”I just want to understand what the hell has gotten into you.”

“Oh, so you still think I’m the one overreacting? Then we are going to keep going in circles. I’m telling you one more time to get away from me or I’ll just go somewhere else instead.”

Geto’s expression falters at that. You can’t help but latch onto his reactions—you actually kind of thrive off of the fact that you get him going in ways other people don’t appear to.

”You can’t just avoid going to the same places as me!”

You inhale sharply through your nose and count backwards from 10 before you go and really give him what for, gathering your items and slinging your messenger bag over your shoulder. 

“Watch me,” you huff as you brush past him, and he doesn’t make an effort to chase you down (smart move because you have Nanami as an emergency dial now) and a plethora of curses and obscenities and profanities are swirling around in your head because what the hell happened to that so called peace and tranquility once you let this guy loose? Don’t men ever know when to take no for an answer? Well real men definitely, men who are the true epitome of masculinity but Geto does not fit that description. Underdeveloped, remember?

Under. Developed. Most people who are complete assholes are, right? For what other reason are they mean? Because those kinds of people are insecure about the fact that they lack the intelligence to even get by in life.

So maybe you should give him the same grace you would a newborn baby.

Eh… upon further evaluation, that’s actually an insult to newborns. You’re retracting that statement. You try to remain aware of your surroundings as you tread back to your dorm. Praying that you won’t get mugged or worse because this particular area seems less populated with students… most of them are intelligent enough to walk with someone a la that old buddy system but you just told your buddy system to focus on his own schedule like the damn imbecile you are.

Something you have in common with Geto, you suppose, since your mind still wanders back to that blank expression he wears every time he so much as glances in your direction and finds you expending all of your attention on winning Kento Nanami over. No one’s a fool; he knows who the other person is now and he may find a way to hold that against you. But jokes on him because unlike someone like Geto, you’re not afraid of facing your feelings. 

So he can spill the beans if he wants, it won’t make a difference. Hell, even if Nanami rejects your advances, rejection is nothing more than redirection and you can move on with your damn life because that’s not the only thing going for you.

There’s nothing Geto can do to intimidate you into doing whatever he wants. Looking back, you don’t even understand why you let him do all of those things… you can admit that he’s a good lay but there’s nothing beyond it that you can think of off the top of your head. Maybe you just lack a backbone and you’re working on strengthening that. You ride the elevator to your floor of the dorm and as you step inside, you find that your roommate isn’t there and is probably off canoodling with her own boyfriend. You two aren’t particularly close so you honestly don’t care; you’re just glad you have the room to yourself.

But you hate that your mind keeps drifting to that son of a bitch. You’re just trying to drown everything else about the world right now to focus on studying until eventually you can feel your vision begin to blur a bit and it’s time for bed. You finally decide to let yourself rest. Everything else is tomorrow’s problem. Geto is not your problem anymore but he keeps finding a way to weasel himself back into your world. He’s not even supposed to be a part of it.

That’s your fault. That is all your fault and you take accountability for that, and you hope to lead by example so Geto can learn a thing or two if he is capable of doing as such. You want to have some hope in him. (Not that you even owe him that.)

Your morning starts slower today since you only have one three hour lecture in the evening, so you’re figuring you might spend the majority of your day catching up on looking after yourself. You have to admit, the dry heat is making you feel dirty and gross, and you wish you could be a little more clean but the showers never seem to give you that effect. Probably because you understand what kind of activity students get up to in those damn showers because they don’t understand basic human decency. You idly wonder if you should live off campus next year. You can at least say you didn’t deny yourself the average university experience, living on campus and whatnot, but you’re not sure how much more of this lifestyle you can take. You share a restroom with a whole floor of other women. It’s not always zen.

Your roommate is shuffling through her side of the room, tossing on a pair of lounge clothes since there’s no need to make university a fashion show—that’s reserved for nights out and dates with her boyfriend. You have to admit you do envy her a bit. She seems so secure in her skin. She has a gorgeous, blemish free complexion and long, flowy brunette hair that stops at her mid-back. She’s got blonde highlight streaks that complement her overall. She’s from the States, but she knows Japanese way too scarily well. But her southern accent does seem to pop out every now and then even when speaking to you and you can’t help but gush at how adorable her drawl sounds. 

if you recall. she is from somewhere in Georgia.

“So what became of that guy who would always hang around you?” your roommate asks you the next morning as she preps for her morning class. “That real sexy guy with the ugly manbun.”

You fight back a snort at that, hiding your grin behind your hands. “He’d be so offended if you said that to him. Everyone calls him crazy bangs too. Um, I’m not exactly friends with him. Why do you ask?”

”He tried to come over yesterday looking for you,” she explains with a shrug. “I figured it wasn’t any of my business.”

Good call,  you think to yourself. 

Even if you two aren’t close, she understands ‘girl code.’

”Eh, well, it’s probably nothing important,” you reply, “I’m not that keen on the guy myself.”

”For real? Because it seems like he’s all over you,” she observes, placing her clenched fists on her hips like she’s lowkey judging you for letting someone like him roam free. You can’t even begin to fathom why she might think that, but she is just like any other girl, easily drawn to Geto’s charm and angelic features. You can’t deny he’s handsome but that doesn’t take away everything else about his extremely flawed personality. “He was pretty persistent about trying to catch up with you. I knew you were in the library but I didn't tell him that.”

”I appreciate that.”

”Of course,” she replies, “Besides, it’s like I said, it’s not my business to meddle into affairs that aren’t mine but you can’t blame me for being a little curious.”

”Of course not,” you chuckle, twirling a stray strand of hair in front of your face. “He’s just not worth your time or energy, trust me.”

”I don’t know. I’d love a piece of that ass,” she muses, “But alas I am already taken by a wonderful man who better plan to propose by the time I graduate.”

You playfully groan while rolling your eyes.

”Oh, please. Spare me the theatrics.”

”Come on, can’t you let a girl gush about her man?”

”Maybe not so early in the damn morning,” you deadpan and she laughs.

”Alright, alright, once you get your morning coffee, you should be back to your chipper self! I’ll be off then, did you still want to get lunch together?”

You nod. “Sure!”

And you are once again left to your devices. Twisting around and glancing at the mess on your side of the dorm. Your deep navy duvet is crumped up at the foot of the bed. Your notes are scattered all over the ground and you can’t remember how it got like that. Your messenger bag is wide open and some of your books spill out. And then you find something in there. Something you should have seen earlier but perhaps you have been too caught up in your own world to really dig into it.

A folded note from a light blue scrap paper. Groaning to yourself, you unfold it and scan its contents.

Of fucking course.

‘Meet me tomorrow on the rooftop of the science building… I won’t let you off the hook until we talk things out like adults.

-Geto, S.’

You crumple up the paper and toss it into the wastebasket close to the door. As fucking if. You have made your point already! He is not a part of your world and you never should have allowed him to hover over you like that for as long as you have. You’re at as much fault for this as he is, but at least you’re doing yourself a few favors by heavily ignoring him.

But then you hear a knock on the window and you whip your head around, your jaw dropping.

You stomp over, sliding open the window. “Are you actually insane? How are you doing that? How the hell are you balancing on it like you’re fucking Spiderman?”

”Because I’m just that much of a bad ass,” Geto quips, slipping into your dorm. “Did you get the note?”

”I’m pretty sure you saw me toss it.”

Geto makes a sound. “Seriously? I’m really trying here.”

”…What were you going to do if I wasn’t in my dorm?”

”Climb down? I’m not a wimp.”

”That’s up for debate.”

”Can’t we actually talk about this?”

”There’s nothing left for me to say to you. You blackmailed me because you didn’t want to stop that weird fuckery between us. All you do is treat me like I’m below you but then you try to write it off as you liking me all of this time. This is the real world, not some weird romcom or chickflick. Believe it or not, you have to own up to your own fuckups sometime.”

“There’s no way this is that easy! You’re trying to tell me you didn’t enjoy any of that with me at all?”

”No! Believe it or not I didn’t!” you counter, “None of that was ever sexy and it’s my fault for not coming to my senses sooner!”

Without warning Geto pins you to your bed behind you, and you let out a yelp in surprise. His lips barely feather over yours as he stares deep into your eyes like some kind of feral animal and he’s about to go completely ape on you. But then Geto stops himself for a moment, glancing at the door and shuffling over to place a sock on the handle outside to signal your roommate who just left a while ago. 

“Oh hell no, we’re not doing this!” you shout, marching over to stop him from shutting the door and yanking the sock off of the handle and shoving him out of your room. “Get the fuck over yourself!”

You slam the door on his face. That’s your fault for letting him in, you should have just ignored him like you said you would but unfortunately you have been cursed with empathy and you didn’t want him to hang outside like that like some monkey forever.

You glance at the window again, frowning. How did he even manage that?

You shake your head and try to ignore the constant banging on your door because Geto can’t accept rejection to save his damn life.

”I’m not leaving this floor until we talk.”

”Then I guess you’re staying there for eternity!” you exclaim, huffing as you rest your back against the door. “I have nothing left to tell you!”

“You’re going to have to get out of there sometime,” he grumbles, banging his fists on the door again. “Just open up and talk to me, please?”

You grumble something to yourself and decide what choice do you have at this moment because your roommate is going to come back and probably wonder why you’re keeping him locked out and then once she tries to waltz back in he’s going to find a way to slip back inside and you just don’t want this to be more complicated than it is already. You swing the door open again, extending your arm and gesturing to your room and welcoming him with a hard stare and deep scowl that actually makes him shudder and he places the sock back onto the door handle before you shut the door behind the two of you.

“Well, I’ll give you five minutes, so speak now or whatever.”

”I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did,” Geto starts, striding up to you with that winning smile of his that could make even the most independent of girls buckle down and cave into whatever he says or does. You’re no better in that regard as he cups your cheek, brushing away a few strands of your hair. “And I know i haven’t been the nicest to you for as long as we’ve known each other. I guess I can’t help that I like how reactionary you get to the things I do or say.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re guilty of anything you’ve done,” you mutter.

”Oh, believe me, I am completely and utterly guilty,” he murmurs, his face drawing closer to yours and his gaze dips to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again. Your breath hitches. “Guilty for being completely whipped for you—why do you think I tried so damn hard to get you all putty in my hands? You think it’s because I hate you? I hope I made it clear to you that it’s utter nonsense.”

”Well, goodie goodie for me, I got your attention when I never wanted it,” you scoff, “Ya think this is going to be enough to make up for literally blackmailing me?”

”I never did anything with that footage and it’s all wiped from all of my devices.”

”So what? It doesn’t change the fact that you held it over my head for this long! How do I know you don’t have something else planned for me if I keep refusing you, hm?”

”Are you sure refusing me is what you want?”

”N—I mean yes! I mean, what the hell do you know about what I want? I know I didn’t want whatever arrangement that was with us before!”

“Then why don’t we change that?” he challenges, cradling your face with both of his hands now as his lips gently brush over yours—not even a kiss because he’s not one of those soft peckers, he’s the kind of kisser who’s smothering, obsessive, all-consuming…in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters at all. It’s an addictive high, kissing him, but you have to let that go because you don’t like him like that.

You don’t like him, period… isn’t that right? It’s Nanami you want, right?

Now you’re swimming in confusion but you can’t even stop to compartmentalize when Geto’s mouthing soft kisses all over your jaw like you’re this precious thing to him, and yeah, maybe that’s true, you’re his precious toy and he doesn’t want to lose access to you and it’s not deeper than that. 

You rest your hands on his chest, pushing him off.

”I won’t do this with you, Suguru,” you tell him in a firm tone. “I like to think I have developed some degree of self-respect.”

“I never said you didn’t have that,” he purrs as he constricts you by the waist and presses you into him, until you can feel his half-hard dick through his sweatpants. A protest dies in your thoat as his lips trail along your shoulder. “But I am hoping you let that all go out the window when I’m fucking you dumb on my cock.”

”Suguru, please…” 

“Please what?” he murmurs into your ear before flicking his tongue against it, making you shiver and grip tighter onto his shirt. 

“I know you don’t actually like me, so just stop.”

His grip barely loosens on your waist but he’s scowling deep, like those words cut deeper than you expected it to.

”Didn’t I make it clear to you before that I liked you?”

”No,” you reply as you shake your head. “It doesn’t undo everything you did. You think I still don’t hold it all against you? Not just the blackmailing, but the name-calling, feeling me up in public, snatching my sketchbooks and tearing some of those pages out—!” 

“—I kept them,” he interjects.

”So fucking what? It doesn’t change that you stomped all over my parade any chance you got!” 

“I was an idiot and I was wrong,” he says into your skin, still mouthing at it and he’s too damn persistent to just fling off of you. Just gluing himself to you, because he wants you to suffocate. He wants you to be completely smothered and engulfed by his overwhelming, demanding presence. But you are trying to put your foot down. You’re trying to remember who the fuck you are and who the fuck he is to you and that’s someone you want nothing to do with at all.

”You’re still an idiot and you’re still wrong.”

”You’re right.”

”We agree on something for once, then.”

”Then maybe you can agree with the fact that I can’t help how hard my dick gets just looking at you,” he groans as he hikes one of your legs up and hooks it around his hips, pinning you to against the door as he grinds himself into your crotch. A whine escapes your lips, this isn’t fucking fair, and he knows that and he knows he has several advantages over you that aren’t limited to this. “I can’t help that my heart doesn’t stop racing at the thought of having all of this all for me. At least when I’m a bastard to you, you pay attention to me in a special way. It might not have been the brightest decision at the time, but we were also like 11 years old.”

”Well clearly, neither of us are kids anymore…” you stammer, heat going straight to your groin and you hate how much power he actually has over you that you refuse to acknowledge yourself. 

“You have no idea how that first night was for me,” he goes on, biting on your lip. “I finally had you putty in my hands. You just took it all, maybe you were frustrated over something else and took it out on me, but for me it didn’t matter, because I could finally see you like this.”

”Suguru…” your eyes shimmer, “You’re not selling yourself well here. I’m not into it, I just—hah!” 

His fingers slip into your pants and rub the cotton hiding his prize, and he chuckles upon discovering something you can’t help. 

“Are you sure about that, pretty? I think you know as well as me who you belong to. Can’t get enough of me.”

”Suguru, stop!”

He retracts his hand.

”Just… stop,” you squeak.

”I’m not letting you have the satisfaction of ending this—I meant what I said,” he reminds you, sucking his fingers clean. “Stop denying what you really want.”

”And once again, I ask, what the hell do you know about what I really want?”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me I don’t fuck your brains out every time we do what we do.”

”I never denied that,” you counter, “I’m just telling you this isn’t what I—!”

”—stop feeding me that bullshit. Tell me you haven’t been able to stop thinking about me. I know I’m the only one who can give you what you need because you don’t even know what you really need half the time yourself. You going after Kento? Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s only because you want to get back at me.”

”What! Are you insane? I adore Nanami. I wanted…I wanted something to happen between us but then you happened!” 

“Oh? So you’re saying that I’m in your way?”

”Yes, but—Ugh! Not the way you want, you piece of shit!” 

“Oh please, you could have ended things with us ages ago even without the stuff I recorded with us. So what actually stopped you, hm? Maybe it’s because you like the way I make you feel? Or did you know that somewhere deep down in that gorgeous heart of yours, you knew you liked me?”

”I’d sooner shit on my hands and clap before I even remotely like you.”

“Disgusting imagery, but we both know that’s a bold faced lie.”

”Ugh! How the hell are you this insufferable? And don’t you have a few lectures in a few?”

”…Actually yes, so that spares you for now. But don’t think we’re done with this, pretty girl,” he replies while patting your shoulder. “Unblock me so we can talk later. Okay?”

”…Fine, but only because you finally backed off, got it?”

”Eh, we would have fucked anyway,” he quips with a wink. You shudder.

”Piss off.”

part three coming soon.

taglist: @collectionofdolls (ask if you want to be tagged!<3)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: One Night

G/N. Crazy Stupid Love Emma Stone/Ryan Gosling scene but make it Lookism. Masterlists

"Are you nervous?" Goo murmurs, a smile tugs at his lips when he feels you trembling.

He peers down at you and pauses. His hand, having worked its way under your top and caressing your bare skin - stops.

Tonight, you have aimed for sexy and sensual. It worked well. Fake it until you make it, and you made it when this handsome blonde at the bar invited you back to his apartment for a night of debauchery.

But your mask slips. It's hard to keep it on, y'know. When you are both half naked, about to be even more naked, there's nowhere left to hide.

Your nervousness comes out as a snort, because duh and you think some of your previous sexy and sensual points are deducted.

"Yeah," you respond with an awkward giggle. Then your mouth runs before your single brain cell can.

"- Also, something has been digging into my back all this time," Goo waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, "No. Definitely not. I think it's a spring or something or I don't know... crumbs? Have you been eating in bed? Either way I think this is the most uncomfortable mattress I've ever laid on. Your silk bed sheets are something else though - who even has silk bed sheets? It's like something from the 80s along with waterbeds but god they feel so fucking great on my legs."

Goo is stunned into silence momentarily before he barks out a laugh.

He rolls off you and onto the left side on the bed, full body wriggling around slightly, experiencing the silk bed sheets for himself and chuckles.

"Sweetheart, you're right. And I've always hated this mattress." He sighs, adding, "I got conned by fucking influencers."

You whip your head towards him and give him a look, "Influencers?! What. Is this those fancy brands that I've been seeing them shill all over my social media-"

Goo turns towards you, a pout on his lips and eyebrows pinched together in a pitiful expression. "Yep. I've hated it since the first night."

"Then why didn't you return it!"

He shrugs and you laugh, your previous nervousness dissipating.

"I always wondered what idiot would fall for those."

"Hey!"

A brief moment of silence then-

"Did you buy these sheets from an infomercial or something?"

"Excuse me!" Goo shuffles, angles himself so he's fully facing you. Head held up by the palm of his hand and resting his elbow on the mattress.

There's mischief, life in his face that wasn't there earlier tonight. "Sue me. I have money to spend, sometimes I can't sleep, and those sales people sell things so well."

You let out another unrefined snort, amused by this guy.

Suddenly finding there's so much personality, a touch of vulnerability revealed in that statement, behind the expensive glasses, his tailored suit and his muscled body.

"Wanna see what other crap I've bought?"

.

.

You both wander around his apartment, which turned out to be a huge fucking penthouse now that he has the light on and is giving you a guided tour, in your underwear. 

Goo, no shame and expanses of skin on show, and you follow closely behind with his silk sheets wrapped loosely around your body.

He gestures at what you assume to be a coffee machine sitting proudly on his kitchen countertop. All sleek and stainless steel with dials and buttons on every surface.

"I can't even use this thing. I've had it for 2 years."

"Look," Goo opens an overhead kitchen cupboard, gesticulating like he's going to perform a magic trick, and dramatically shows you rows and rows of trendy kitchen gadgets, no doubt also purchased during moments of insomnia. Pizza scissors, spiralizer, bread maker, air fryer, pressure cooker.

"Never used."

"This," he points at the far wall, and you squint, barely making out a framed art piece of the ugliest monkey face you have ever seen. But hey, art is subjective, right-

"-is an NFT. I bought that too."

That tips you over the edge.

You cackle and cackle, doubled over and holding onto him for balance.

.

.

There's a dusty segway sitting pitifully in the corner of an unused spare room.

You jump out from round a corner, LED mask on your face and flashing a menacing red - "Boo!"and Goo actually jumps.

A lonely treadmill, placed beneath one of those fancy sit-stand desk catches your eye.  Goo smirks, "Babe, I don't even have a desk job."

Instead of spending all night tangled in his silk bedsheets together, Goo jogs down memory lane of sleepless nights and impulse buys with you by his side.

Your laughter starts to tinge all his memories.

Your good natured ribbing and mocking.

His hyena cackle joins yours, and he wonders when was the last time he was able to laugh with someone. Has he ever spent an entire night talking to someone like this?

"Ask me something personal." He requests, both now lying on his uncomfortable bed. You in his arms, hair tickling his chin.

"What do you want from life?"

"To make money."

"Why?"

"I want to be rich."

"Why?"

"Well, who doesn't want to be rich, sweetheart."

"Yeah but why do you?"

Goo remembers running errands, doing anything to earn some money. Anything for a price. His cousin calling in his services, and he happily beat up some middle schoolers to help him (and who was it again, Tabasco?) out.

He doesn't really know where his thirst for money making has come from. Maybe there's some deep set trauma from his life pre-juvie or some shit he should pay a therapist to decipher but alas.

He tells you this, all this and more. At some point, his head is the one lying on your chest and you absentmindedly stroke through his blonde locks, humming noises of encouragement, listening to his words.

Weird, Goo thinks, when he finally drifts off to sleep with you snoring gently beside him. 

The morning sun already filters through the blinds, and the hustle and bustle of Seoul has started to pick up.

How comfortable this feels. How natural your connection with him is. How this is the spark people dream about, and somehow it has hit him when he wasn’t looking for anything more.

That someone as different to him as you are, that is only ever supposed to be company for a few hours, a night at best, could spell trouble. Raise his hackles, send his alarms blaring.

When he's usually the walking red flag.

Because you’ve got him thinking. A lot. That shrewd brain hidden behind playfulness has been whirring; wondering about what happens if you become a regular fixture.

Maybe you might doom him, in the end. Maybe this will lead to a dead end and nothing more.

But he's curious enough, the spark is shining brightly enough, to see where else you might lead him to too.

[muffinpink02]

Bronze Is Better Than Gold Part 6

Ignore the Pictures I'll edit later

Warnings - gun violence, death, scenes of sexual assault, smut 18

“No fucking answer.” Slims grumbled as he turned off Ona’s phone.

The brunette watched with her one good eye as the man paced the room.

“Why did no one answer? I thought you said this was the number to call for your boss.”

“It is. I told you it's too early. No one would be there now.” Ona mumbled.

Slims stalked towards Ona as if he was going to hit her. Her body instinctively stiffened, ready for the impact, but instead he slapped the desk next to her head, making her flinch.

The man got his own phone out, searching for something.

“How much are you going to ask for, Slims?” One of his workers asked.

Slims kept his eyes on his phone, not bothering to look up. “How much what?”

The two men looked at each other slightly confused.

“Money. How much money are you asking for? For the girl?”

“I’m not asking for money, I’m asking for my brother to be released.” 

Ona could tell from the confusion on their faces that they clearly hadn't been involved with this plan. 

“Are you joking? They won't let him out, he's in prison, Slims. He was sentenced… what a over a month ago? They aren't just going to let him out. I thought we were asking for money! Do you know how long we could go to prison? We might as well kill her and go.”

Before Ona could blink, Slims had a hold of his friend's throat, thrusting him against the wall.

“You pussying out now? You fucking scared?” 

“N-Na, Slims. I just don’t want to get caught.” 

Ona watched as Slims eyed the man, he looked ready to kill him. Ona was convinced he would. 

He let go of the man's throat after he started to turn a dark shade of blue. “We wont get fucking caught. They release him and we go. It's easy.” 

“And what about her? She's seen our faces.” The other goon nodded towards Ona.

Slims turned his attention away from the man who was now holding his red throat, to Ona. 

“We kill her.” He shrugged. 

“But what about your brother?”

“I've got guys that will wait for him. They won't be far from the prison. Once they let him go and he's with my men, she dies.”

Even though the men looked like they did not share a single brain cell between them, even they could tell that this plan wasn't going to work.

Ona felt her chest tighten, how was this happening? She wondered if her team had any idea where she was, if they had a plan, or if she was going to be killed in this abandoned warehouse. 

The blue lights flashed on top of Lucy's undercover car as she left the last London road, making her way into the green countryside. She followed the map on her phone, she wasn't far now, another 15 minutes and she would be there. As she got closer she turned the blue lights off, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. 

Her eyes glanced over to her phone sitting on the passenger seat, she could see Sarinas name lighting up the screen, she ignored it and pushed her foot on the accelerator. 

“Sorry, boss.”

Lucy knew if she came out of this alive, Sarina would probably kill her.

After what felt like hours, Lucy finally arrived at the destination. She parked her car down the woody lane, not wanting it to be spotted. She could feel her heart in her chest, she had no clue what she was going into, but she didn't care, all she knew was that she was going to get Ona out. 

Instead of the main road the brunette creeped through the shielded forest, the smell of the rain and wet mud flooded her senses. It was oddly peaceful, considering the business of her being there. She followed her phone, making sure she was going in the right direction. A couple minutes later she spotted the abandoned warehouse through the overgrown bushes. She got as close as she could without being spotted. 

She looked around the building but couldn't see anyone, but she did spot a black van, the one LJ must have spotted on the cameras.

Lucy assessed the building, her eyes scanned for anyway in without being caught. She saw a few doors and windows but she needed to make sure she wasn't caught. She instinctively ducked when she heard a heavy door being pushed open. She watched as two men left the building, both pulling a cigarette out and lighting up the white stick.

“I can’t believe we’ve been pulled into this shit. I thought we were getting money for taking her, not his fucking brother!”

Lucy was close enough to make out what they were saying.

The second man shook his head. “I know. I know. That's the reason why only we showed up, no one clearly wanted to be involved in this shit. He probably doesn't even have men who would wait for his brother.”

Bingo. That was one thing Lucy at least now knew. There wasn't a warehouse full of men with guns.

“If we get caught, we’re fucked you know that? Will be straight in prison along side his fucking brother.” The man scoffed angrily, letting out a puff of smoke. 

“I’m pissed that he didnt let us fuck her.”

Lucy’s stomach dropped, her teeth instantly grinding against each other in anger. The rage that crept up her body was almost scary even for herself, she hadn't realised her hand had already gripped her gun, wanting to put a bullet through the man's neck.

“I know. Her face is fucked though, don’t even know if I could get hard.” The man laughed.

That's when Lucy gripped her gun, but she knew better than to use it.

The other man laughed. “Na, it doesn't faze me. Even if she’s black and blue, I don’t mind.” He cackled loudly at his own joke, before spitting a mouthful of phlegm on the floor.

The other man shook his head. “You’re a wronging.” He chuckled as he flicked his finished cigarette.

“Don’t fucking lie, you would. I’m going to do it before he realises the plans stupid and kills the bitch.”

“I think he's gone mad.” The man turned to go back into the building. “You coming?”

“I need to piss.” 

The younger guy nodded and made his way inside, leaving the pig looking man alone. The man that Lucy now wanted to skin alive. 

He walked closer to the bushes, just a couple of metres from the brunette, she spotted the man's gun on his hip. She sized up the pig eyed prick, she knew she could take him on, but she needed to make the first move. 

She watched as he carelessly urinated into the bush, whistling to himself, his back to her. This was her chance. She ever so slowly creeped out of the dense forest. It was almost like watching a nature documentary, like a lioness stalking its unexpected prey. Ready to kill.

Click

Lucy pressed the barrel of her gun to the back of the man’s head. 

“If you even utter a word without my say so or try to move an inch, the last thing you'll ever see is your tiny ugly prick.”

He didn't move.

“Nod slowly if you understand.” 

He barely moved his head. Lucy wasn't sure if it was out of fear or anger, so she pressed her gun harder. 

“How many people are in there?”

“J-Just 3.”

“Including the girl?” 

“4.” He corrected himself.

“Guns?”

He nodded. 

“Is there a way I can get in?”

“There's a back door. It's to the left of the building.”

Lucy laughed internally at how easy he was giving over the information, she hoped he would be known to others as a snitch once he gets put in prison.

“I-I didn't do nothing, I told Slims to give the girl back. I swear.” 

Lucy had to stop herself from killing this slime of a man. She wanted so badly to pull her trigger, but she also didn’t want such an easy way out for him.

With a flash she hit the man hard on the back of the head. Knocking him straight out. She knew where and how hard to hit him without killing him. She quickly dragged his body into the forest and cuffed him by his wrist to a tree.

The brunette made her way around the back of the building, she spotted the door that the pig face mentioned. She turned the knob slowly, it was unlocked. She gently pushed the door open, revealing a storage room. it was dark and hard to see, only small bits of light came through the blacked out painted windows. She crept inside, closing the door behind her. 

She slinked down the dark corridor, her gun in hand. Her heart in her mouth.

She came to another closed door, she stopped to listen for any noise, but heard nothing. She looked through the keyhole, it was another hallway that was even darker then this one. Again, she slowly turned the handle, as she pushed the metal door. 

‘Ehhhhh’

She flinched from the jarring creak the hinges let out. She froze in her tracks, holding her breath. She waited a few heartbeats before she squeezed through the rest of the door, not opening it fully. 

She was plunged into darkness, she found her torch and gave herself a slither of light as she moved further inside. 

Before she moved any further she heard a scratching noise. She tried to look around for the cause but couldn't find anything. 

“Fuck!”

She jumped as a flurry of feathers squawked in her face. 

Lucy had been one of the best in her training. When herself and Sophie joined the police force they would always try to outdo each other, if one was faster, the other was stronger. If one had better aim with a gun the other was more skilled at fighting. They constantly pushed each other and it made them a fierce team. Even to this day Lucy was one of the most skilled agents on the team. She could even give Jill and run for her money in a firing range. 

But she had never jumped so high in the air from a pigeon before. She watched as the stupid bird flew out of a broken window. Her heart was thumping. She breathed in a few deep breaths, trying to get her nerves to calm down. She closed her eyes and pictured Ona’s face. She moved on.

The brunette came to a door at the end of the hallway, once again she tried to listen for any signs of noise but she couldn't hear anything. Ever so slowly she opened the door, light cracked through the slit, she had her gun ready in her hands. She held her breath as she opened it further. She was now in the storage room, there were tall shelving units with cardboard boxes littering each side of the room.

She made a quick dash to duck behind the shelves. She took a glance around, she saw some stairs leading up to a second floor. She had a feeling Ona was somewhere up there. She crawled behind the cardboard box jungle. She got closer to the metal stairs, she was ready to make her way up when a door swung open. She quickly ducked, hiding behind the dusty boxers. 

“Where the fuck is he?” 

Lucy recognised the now familiar voice.

“I don’t know. We were smoking, then he said he was going to take a piss and I went inside.”

The metal stairs began to rattle as the men walked above her.

“Go look for him. I swear if he's run off I'm going to kill him.”

“Okay.” 

Lucy hid further as the stairs shook violently. She watched as the man walked towards the front door, looking for his associate. 

“Fucking useless, fucks!” Slims gripped the metal railing before going back into a room. 

Lucy knew she needed to be quick, if Slims' henchmen came back she'd be outnumbered. She started to make her way up the stairs, making sure her steps were quick and delicate. She made it to the top of the railing, there was a row of doors to the right, but she didn't see what one he entered.

She carefully walked, she had her gun ready, her finger was kissing the trigger. She reached the first door, it was open, but empty. She walked further on, her steps slow, her body was vibrating with adrenaline. 

“Yeah, that's right, if he’s not freed then she dies.” Slim's voice boomed out from the third door. Lucy got closer, she paused when she heard Sarinas voice on speaker from a phone.

“We can’t do that. We can offer you money. We don’t want to see anyone hurt, Frank. If you release her, we can figure this out. Can we at least hear from Ona? We need to know she's okay.” Sarina spoke over the speaker.

Lucy was now standing outside the door to the left.

“Speak.” Slims grunted.

“Sarina?”

Lucy nearly broke down when she heard Ona’s voice. But it hardly sounded like her, she sounded broken, she sounded so small.

“Ona, are you hurt?”

There was a pause.

“Ona?” Sarina called out, Lucy could hear the worry in her voice.

“She's fine!” Slims barked.

Lucy heard the man pacing about the room.

“Are you going to let my brother out? Yes or No?”

“Frank, we can’t-” 

The line was cut. 

Slims turnt to Ona. “Thanks to your boss you're going to be killed.”

“Please, killing me won't get him back. Please, just let me go.”

Just as Lucy was about to rush in she heard the steps of Slims henchman approaching, she ducked into the first empty room. The metal stairs rattled as he climbed the stairs and entered the room.

“No sign of him. Maybe he did run off.”

“Fucking coward. Fuck him. We got to go, burn this place down.”

“Why?”

“They won't release him. I wouldn't be surprised if he fucking snitched about where we are. There's barrells down stairs, pour it everywhere. We light it up and we go.”

“What about her?” The man motioned towards Ona.

“She can burn with it.”

Ona eyes widened. “No, please. Please.” Her voice broke as she begged.

Both men ignored her.

“Can I at least have fun with her first?”

“Do what you want, just be quick. Once you're done, help me with the petrol.”

Ona’s brain started to fog, her brain and body was screaming to shut down.

“I will.” The man promised.

Slims left the room. Lucy had heard everything. She watched as Slims made his way down the stairs and towards the front door. 

She left the room, she heard Ona start to scream. Her blood ran cold as she heard her cry. She stood at the entrance of the door. Ona’s small body was being pushed to a desk by a man 3 times her size. 

“Come on, baby. Don’t make it difficult. It will be over quickly.” The man laughed.

“Move the fuck away from her.”

Ona’s eyes opened as she heard Lucy's voice. It couldn't be? Her brain must have been playing tricks on her. She didn't know whether to scream or cry. She never thought she’d live to hear that voice again. 

The man turned around confused. As soon as he spotted Lucy and her gun he put his hands up in surrender, moving away from Ona.

“Get on the fucking floor, hands behind your back.”

The man did what she said and laid on the ground. Lucy kept her gun on him as she stepped closer to Ona. 

“Ona? Hey, it's me.”

The shorter brunette flinched as she felt Lucy's hand touch her back.

“Hey, don't be scared. It’s me. It’s Lucy.”

Ona slowly got up, her arms were dead from being tied up for so long. She used all the strength she could to turn. She nearly lost all balance when she saw Lucy. And she did fall as she moved, but Lucy was quick to catch her. 

“L-Lucy!” 

When Lucy saw Ona’s face her stomach dropped. Her left eye was swollen shut, her whole socket was black, the little bit of eye she did see was covered with blood. Her face was scattered with bruises and cuts, her chin was raw with old blood, she could hardly look at her without wanting to kill.

Ona’s body shook in her arms, she buried her face into her chest, Lucy wanted to scoop her up and tell her it was all going to be okay. But they had to get out first.

“L-Lucy.” Ona choked out.

“Shh it's okay, Ona. You’re okay.”

Lucy felt a piece of her break, seeing Ona like this was tearing her apart, but she had to keep her head straight. She gently grabbed Ona by the arms, she scanned her weak body for any obvious damage.

“I’m going to handcuff him okay.” She lowered her face to the younger brunette.

She nodded.

Lucy dropped her knee hard into the man's back, making him cry out. She didn't care if she would have broken a bone, causing him to never walk again, he was lucky her gun hadn't put bullets in the back of his throat.

“Stand up.”

Lucy yanked the back of the man's shirt. He clumsily stood, the older brunette kept her distance from him. Her gun pointed straight at his head. 

“Move.” She pushed the man forward.

She turned to face Ona. She pulled out another gun from her side.

“He’s still out there. Use it if you need to. Stay behind me, okay.”

Ona nodded, but she was clearly scared.

‘’Hey, you can do this.” Lucy gently stroked her cheek, mindful of the bruises. 

“Move.” Lucy pushed the man forward. 

“Okay, come, let's go.” She smiled softly at the girl, reaching her free hand out for her to take.

Her small hand weakly took Lucys, they gave each other a smile that would stay in their heads forever. 

They walked down the metal steps, with the man in front of them. Lucy had her gun pointing at him. 

The room stunk of petrol. Slims had clearly already done the inside of the building. 

Ona had never been more scared and more relieved as she watched the brunette in front of her. Lucy had saved her. Lucy had single handedly saved her. She saved her from being killed. 

They were half way from the door when it opened. 

A gun went off. 

Lucy and Ona flinched. The sound of the gun firing ricocheted through the hollow building. Neither girl was sure if it was one bullet or more. The man in front came to a halt. Then to his knees. 

That's when Lucy saw Slims running from the door and disappearing into the tall jungle of units. Reloading his gun. 

“Move!” Lucy grabbed Ona by the hand, mirrorwing Slims, hiding behind the tall metal beams and crates. Ona looked at the man laying on the floor, his blood turning his clothes black. 

“Is anyone with you? Do we have backup?” Ona whispered.

Lucy could have laughed, this is clearly what Sarina was talking about. She was too much of a hot head, and now here she was, saving the love of her life from a crazy wannabe drug lord in the middle of nowhere and had no backup. 

“No. No backup.” 

Ona rolled her one good eye.

“Are you really giving me attitude right now?” Lucy couldn't help but smirk. Even if there was a killer on the loose.

“I mean, I would have thought you'd bring back up.” Ona examined the surroundings. 

It was Lucy's time to roll her eyes. “No, sorry. I didn't really have the time.”

“Fire.”

“I mean yeah. I probably will get fired, but I don’t care.”

“No, Lucy. Fire!” The younger brunette pointed over to a line of fire, running itself to a shit load of petrol barrels.

‘Wshhhhhhhh!’

Both girls ducked as the barrel exploded with a huge wave of fire engulfing the roof.

“Fuck!” Lucy automatically pulled Ona closer to her. 

“We have to leave, this place is going to come down.”

Ona nodded. “The door.” 

Lucy eyed the door, but Slims was still hiding somewhere. 

“You ready?” 

“Wait.”

Ona grabbed Lucy by the collar, she brought their mouths together, gently kissing her lips. It felt like everything went silent for just a second. It was a gentle kiss, but it was pure love between the two. This could be the last time she’d be able to ever kiss the girl, and she didn't want to take her chances. Lucy understood that.

Her green eyes scanned the bruised face in front of her. 

“Ready?” 

“Si.” 

The girls made their move, crouching as they creeped behind the tall units. The fire above them began to spread quickly, swallowing the roof in its path. 

“Keep your eyes peeled. He’s behind one of those beams.” 

Ona nodded, her gun was in her hand aiming, though her vision was blurry.

“We run, but don't go straight, zig zag. Don’t let him follow you.” The shorter brunette ordered.

“Yeah, okay. I’ve got your back.”

“I’ve got yours.”

The girls moved from the cover off the units, out into the open. The room was heating up, the fire above growing by the second. The thick smoke started to creep down, making it harder to see and breathe. 

“It’s clear. Run!” 

The girls ran, zig zagging like Ona said to do, but the bullets still came firing at them. 

“Keep going, Ona!”

Ona winced as she ran, her body was weak, but the fire in her belly made her push forward. Having Lucy be her side made her push even more. 

Lucy spotted Slims, she fired her own bullets his way, missing in her quick pace. They were nearly at the exit, Ona was slow but she kept going. Lucy watched as Slims ducked behind the units as she fired, she walked closer towards him, she wanted to kill him.

“Come on, Lucy!” 

The door was open, Ona could see the sky. 

‘Whhhhhssshhhh’

Ona dropped back, hitting her head as part of the ceiling came crashing down, blocking the door. Her gun fell from her hands, skidding across the floor, the room quickly began to thicken with black smoke, it almost became impossible to see. 

She groaned as her head started to thump with a viscous pain, her vision slowly becoming blurry. The deep cut in the back of her head reopened from the fall. She weakly flinched at the sound of a gunshot, then another. Then a scream.

Lucy dropped to the floor as the bullet buried itself into her thigh. It felt like a hot poker had dug itself into her flesh.The pain felt like nothing she had ever felt before. It rattled through her body, the warm dark liquid quickly pumping out.

Lucy lost sight of Slims, and her gun. The smoke had become thicker, it made it impossible to see further than her arms. She looked around for Ona, but she couldn't see her, she couldn't hear her. She had no clue where she was. 

“Ona?” She shouted. “Ona? Can you hear me?” 

Silence.

“Where are you?.” She coughed. Her eyes began to water from the smoke.

She tried to get up, grunting in pain as her flesh screamed at her not to move. But she gritted her teeth as she stood to her feet. The room was suffocating, it felt like she was in an oven, sweat dripped from her head. 

“Ona? Where are you? Ona? Please, Ona!”

She heard a weak cough to her right, she could see what looked like a small body on the floor, but before she could move she was being thrown on her back. 

“Fuck!”

A hard object came down hard on her chest, forcing the air out of her lungs. Her leg was throbbing as it continued to bleed out. 

“Ahhhh!”

Slim stood over Lucy, his whole weight pushing on her chest by his boot.

“Stupid, bitches. Did you really think you could get away?” 

The building was collapsing around them, the metal roof screeched as it started to plummet to the floor, the orange flames burning and melting everything it touched.

Slims cocked his gun, aiming it at Lucy's face. She closed her eyes as she felt the burning pain from the black smoke seeping into her lungs. She couldn't believe this was happening.

“Slims, don't do this. Please. You don't have to kill me. Just let us go. I can say you got away. Please.” Lucy pleaded.

A malicious smile creeped on the man's face, pressing his weight down harder, on the verge of cracking her ribs. She gasped from the unbearable pain, trying to move away from the pressure of her chest, but he was too heavy 

“Shut up!”

“Do you think I’d trust a cunt like you? You’re just another useless pig-”

Lucy gasped as the heavy feeling on her chest was gone. She looked up to see Ona standing protectively over her, her fist connecting to Slims face. 

“Fuck!” 

He dropped his gun as his nose was cracked, again.

Ona had felt like she was drifting into a deep warm slumber, it was almost peaceful as the world went quiet around her. 

She saw the sky as it opened up above her, small bits of flames dropped around her, it looked beautiful, magical even, like bright stars drifting from the galaxy above. She was ready to sleep, ready to let the pain in her head become a thing of the past, until she heard a voice. 

She knew that voice, she loved that voice. She heard it again, it was calling her name. She could hear the pain, the desperate cries that called out to her. She wanted to sleep, but the voice was too familiar. 

She gasped as her body jolted, the flames above were burning bright as her mind and body told her to get up and fight. 

“Ona!” 

Ona felt an earthquake of strength seep through her body, she winced as she pushed herself up. She looked around at the chaos unfolding, the place was ablaze. She turned as she heard a voice, it wasn’t the voice from before, this one was pure evil. 

She saw his shadow in the smoke, she could just about make out what was happening. She heard Lucy struggle for air, the woman she loved being hurt by a monster. 

The Spaniard was overcome with venom as she picked herself up. The flight or fight in her came with an almost animatic urge to fight, no, kill. She bunched her first and bolted so hard she nearly flew off her feet. She couldn’t see his face but somehow she knew exactly where to hit.

She felt his bone crunch under her fist, it made her own fist bleed but she couldn't feel the pain, not with the anger that took over her petite body. She landed another punch and another, until he was on his back, and she was on top of him, her first coming down hard on his face. She didn’t know whose blood was whose as she kept landing punch after punch. 

All her anger, all her fear from the past 24 hours was running through her. She screamed as she let it all out. 

“Ona!” 

Ona flinched as she felt hands on her back. 

“It’s me, baby. Listen to my voice, it’s Lucy. We have to go!” 

Ona looked down at the man below. He was just about breathing. Her first was dripping with blood, his face was painted red.

She felt Lucy pull her up. Tuning her to face her.

“Ona, look at me. It’s okay, you’re okay. Follow me.” 

Ona squeezed her eyes shut. Listening to Lucy’s voice. She nodded as she took her hand. 

They began to move, but Ona stopped when she heard the man behind her cough. She pulled Lucy back.

“We can’t leave him, Lucy.”

“We can! We will die Ona, this place is going down!” 

But the older brunette could see the conflict in Ona’s eyes. It wasn’t in either girl to leave someone to die, even if he was an awful human. 

Lucy nodded. “Help me carry him.” 

The girls turned back to help the bleeding man, but just as they turned to save him a shot was fired. And then another.

Ona flinched. 

Lucy flinched. 

Ona looked to see a gun in Slim's hands. He was still trying to shoot as his barrel finished. His bloody and bruised face broke into an evil laugh that rang in Ona’s ears. 

But as soon as he started he was silenced. The sound of a deep bellowing screech roared above his head, as one of the units came tumbling down on his chest, slowly suffocating him. 

“Let's go!” Ona grabbed Lucy's hand, but she didn't move.

Lucy gasped as she fell to her knees. The two bullets had struck her, one in her chest, one in her stomach. 

“Ona.” She whispered before completely falling to the ground. 

“Lucy! No, no! Lucy!” 

Ona put her hand on Lucy’s stomach, her palm becoming covered in another person's blood. 

“No, no, no, no, nooo. Lucy, get up. Please. Come on, we’re so close.” 

“I-I can’t move.” Lucy groaned in pain. 

Ona watched as blood pumped out of Lucy's chest, she was losing so much of it. She tried to stop it, pushing her hand on her chest, but her stomach still bled out. Ona looked at the burning building around her, her mind became a haze, the smoke engulfing her lungs as she panicked in complete fear. She looked back over at Slims, she could see he was slowly dying. 

“Lucy!” The girl cried out, her heart was frantic, she had lost all thoughts as she watched the girl she loved slowly bleed out.

“Go, Ona.” 

What? No, how could she even say that.

“No!”

“Ona, go! Leave!” The girl coughed.

“No, Lucy! I’m not leaving you!”

The building was collapsing, everything was on fire, the heat was searing. Ona felt the fire burning her as it snaked closer. She looked frantically around the room for any kind of exit. She spotted a small opening that the building had made from the wreckage. 

“I’m sorry Lucy. This is going to hurt.”

Ona lifted Lucy from under her arms. The older brunette screamed in agony as her body pulsated in pain.

“I’m sorry.” Ona whispered.

She dragged Lucy, but her heart sank as she saw the blood that was trailing behind them.

“Stay with me Lucy, we’re nearly there.” 

She gently dropped Lucy to the floor, she tried to move the wreckage with all the strength she had left. She managed to shift it a bit but it wasn't enough. 

“Come on, come on!” 

She gritted her teeth as she pushed but it was no hope. It was too heavy to do it alone. She looked over at Lucy, she felt hopeless but she knew she couldn't give up. She tried again and again and again, her sweaty hands started to make it harder to push. She took a step back as she ran at the pieces of ruble. 

“Fuck!” She slipped, catching her hand on the broken wreckage, cutting her palm open. She flinched back as her hand twitched in pain.

She dropped to her knees, coughing as the smoke crept into her lungs. She wasn't sure if it was tears or sweat that covered her face, maybe it was both. 

She had nothing left in her, her mind was a frazzle, her body was weak, everything hurt.

She crawled over to Lucy, she gently cradled her head in her lap. She looked so peaceful, it reminded her of the first morning she shared with Lucy in her flat. She kissed her forehead but couldn't ignore the blood that soaked through the girl's clothes.

“I’m so sorry, Lucy. I’m so sorry. I can't get us out.” She whispered her tears soaking her her cheeks.

Lucy opened her eyes. She smiled slightly at Ona. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.” Ona whispered as she stroked Lucy’s cheeks.

“I love you. I have for so long.”

“I love you too.” Ona sobbed. 

“I think I loved you the moment I saw you.” Lucy closed her eyes.

“Yeah?” Ona smiled through her tears.

“Yeah. Your freckles, I love your freckles.” Lucy coughed. 

“It was the same for me. Your eyes made my heart flutter. I love them so much, Lucy. I love you so much.” Ona’s tears dropped over Lucy's cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I couldn't get you out, Ona. I tried to-”

“Hey, shhh. Don't say that.” Ona stroked Lucy's hair.

“You came for me. You’re here with me now.” 

Lucy closed her eyes again, her breathing becoming shallow.

Ona looked around the smokey room once more, trying to find any kind of exit, but she couldn't see anything.

“Hey, Ona. Sing with me. Islands in the stream, that is what we are.” 

Ona gave Lucy a watery smile.

“N-No one in between. How can we be wrong?” Ona sniffled.

“Sail away with me. To another world.”

“And we rely on each other, ah ha.”

The girls sang the last line together.

“From one lover to another, ah ha.” 

Ona let out a small choke, her tears were nearly blinding. 

“Ona, I’m so cold.” Lucy whispered.

The brunette's life flashed before her eyes. She saw glimpses of her childhood, her memories with Sophie. She saw her siblings and parents, she saw flickers of her life, but the last face, the clearest face, was Ona’s.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Lucy.” She gently stroked Lucy's cheeks, her heart aching as she watched Lucy's face drain of colour.

“We can get the car there.” Lucy mumbled.

Ona scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, Lucy was slipping away. She moved to lay her head on her chest, her chest was hardly moving. She sobbed as she laid down next to the girl, with the love of her life. Even if it was only for a short time, it was the happiest she'd ever been.

She only got a glimpse of what it could be like, to be part of Lucy's life. To have someone she truly loved, someone who looked at her like she was the only person in the room, someone who gave her butterflies every time she smiled at her. Someone who made her laugh until her stomach hurt, someone who made her whole.

She got a taste of love, and she would cherish that until her last breath.

This was it. This was her ending. 

She felt like she had let herself down, her colleagues down, her parents down, her friends down, but most of all she felt like she had let Lucy down. One felt sleepy again, her body screamed for sleep. For rest. She coughed hard as the building burnt away.

She saw the same bright light from earlier. The one that made her feel like she was about to float away and sleep, a peaceful sleep. It became brighter and brighter until she was nearly blinded. 

“They're here! Hurry up!” 

Jordan pushed some of the wreckage, easier than Ona could.

Suddenly a firefighter was grabbing Ona. Lifting her like a baby. 

“Lucy?!” She weakly tried to fight out of the grip the firefighter had on her. She turned to see Lucy’s lifeless looking body being lifted, her face was a scary shade of white. 

Ona felt the cold air hit her sweaty body, it was almost painful. She gasped as the even colder air hit her lungs, that was agonsing. 

There were police cars, ambulances and fire trucks all scattered around. The first face she recognised was Demi's, then Jordan. Then Sarina’s

The firefighter gently laid her next to the ambulance.

“Is there anyone else in there?”

Ona shook her head. “They're dead.”

They nodded and brought a mask to Ona’s face to help her breath.

“Breath deep and slowly for me.”

She allowed them to put the mask on her face, but her eyes looked for Lucy.

“W-Where's Lucy?”

“Ona!” Sarina was crouching next to the Spaniard. “Ona, are you okay?” She touched Ona like a mum would, just like the way Lucy's mum did.

She nodded. “Where's Lucy?”

“They are looking over her now. She's going to the hospital.” Sarina put her hand on the back of Ona’s head, she pulled back when she felt the sticky substance.

“Christ, Ona! Your head!” 

Ona ignored her, she moved the mask away from her face and weakly ran to the ambulance.

Lucy was on the ambulance stretcher. Her clothes had been cut open as the paramedics tried to stop the bleeding. Seeing Lucy's body covered in her blood was something that Ona would never be able to unsee. 

“Hi Lucy, I’m Alessia. I’m a paramedic, we're here to help okay?”

Lucy slowly nodded, Ona was shocked to see she was awake.

“Good, let's put this mask on you, it's gas and air for the pain.”

“Hi Lucy, I’m Ella. Ready, Less?”

The blonde nodded.

“Okay, Lucy this may hurt. Keep breathing that gas and air for me.”

Ona watched as the younger brunette stuck a thick cotton pad on Lucy's stomach. Then wrapped it quickly with bandages. Lucy weakly groaned out in pain. Ella repeated the same method with the other two holes that leaked with blood.

“Okay lets get her in. She needs to be seen urgently.”

Ona watched on with wide eyes. She followed the girls as they rushed to the ambulance, not wanting to leave Lucy's side. They moved the older brunette into the vehicle and slotted her into the free space.

“She’s going with her. Her head is also bleeding.” The Dutch woman instructed as she came up behind Ona.

The blonde paramedic watched Ona’s worried face and nodded.

“Take a seat just up here. Strap yourself in.” 

Ona quickly climbed into the vehicle, her eyes were glued to Lucy as she passed her.

Alessia started to hook the older brunette onto monitors and drips. Ona watched as the white cotton pad had already started to bleed through to the bandages. 

“What’s your name?” The blonde smiled at Ona as she took notes down.

“Ona.” She returned a weak smile back, “Is she going to be okay?”

Ella closed the back of the ambulance's doors and made her way to the front. The ambulance sirens were turned on immediately.

Alessia bit her lip as she fiddled with Lucy's bandages. “She's stable, but she's lost a lot of blood. I think she’s got a lot of trauma to her stomach.”

Ona stared at Lucy, her face was ashy with smoke, her normally neat hair was falling out of its bun. She wanted to hold her. Lay in her strong arms, tell her how much she loved her, again and again.

“She’s a bit out of it, I've given her a stronger drug for the pain.” 

Ona nodded as she reached over and stroked her cheek, her own hand still bleeding.

“Oh Ona, that looks painful, let me take a look at that.” Alessia said, as she gently took Ona’s bleeding hand. “It's deep but it shouldn't affect any nerves. I’ll quickly clean it and wrap it up. Then I want to look at your head.”

Alessia fiddled with some draws, grabbing the bits she needed. 

“This is going to sting.” 

Ona nodded. She felt the alcohol wash over her hand but she couldn't feel the sting, she just stared at Lucy as her chest barely moved. 

Alessia took a look at Ona’s head, she cleaned that cut but was a lot more concerned with it then her hand.

“You need to be treated as soon as we get there. I don’t like the look of this cut. You must be in so much pain.” Alessia frowned at the thought as she dabbed the blood away.

Ona heard her but she wasn’t really listening, she felt a numb ache rise over her body, as she watched the love of her life fight for her life. 

“What was this all about? What happened?” Alessia asked as she took more notes.

Ona took a deep breath as she explained the situation to Alessia.

“Oh, Ona. I’m so sorry.” She reached over and took Ona’s bandaged hand in hers. Her big blue eyes were glassy. 

“And she's your partner?”  

Ona shook her head. “No, I mean. One day maybe but-”

Alessia smiled as the realisation washed over Ona’s face. 

“Oh, you mean… Yeah. She's my work partner.” Ona let out a shy chuckle.

“I think you make a cute couple.” Alessia winked.

The Spaniard couldn't help but look at her feet, smiling at the blonde's words. 

They finally arrived at the hospital. Ella and Alessia wheeled Lucy to the emergency department as Ona followed behind. She didn't notice the other hospital goers gasping and staring at her face, her attention was solely on the brunette. Ella had already called in and explained Lucy’s condition and injuries to the doctors, passing her over to the care of the hospital straight away.

The nurses began to quickly rush Lucy to the ward, Ona tried to follow her but was stopped by Alessia.

“You need to be checked, Ona. I know you want to be with her and I swear you can see her once you’ve been looked at. I promise.” She smiled warmly at the Spaniard. 

The blonde turned to the nurse waiting. “This is Ona, she needs to be seen straight away. She has a deep cut in the back of her head. I’m worried she might have a fracture to the skull. She’ll need x-rays and some looking over her face and lungs.”

Ella gave Ona a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, smiling reassuringly at her.

“Okay, thanks guys. Please follow me, Ona. I’ll get you checked into x-rays and we can take it from there.” The nurse smiled. 

“Good luck, Ona.” Alessia stroked the petite girl's arm. 

It was truly overwhelming having been inches from dying to having someone who showed you genuine kindness all in the space of 20 minutes, she almost didn't want to leave Alessia’s side.

“Thank you. Thank you for helping.” 

She was ushered away as Ella and Alessia made their way out of the hospital and on the way to their next patients. 

Ona had her x-rays done. It turned out Alessia’s hunches were correct. Ona had a fracture to her head and needed to stay at the hospital for extra treatment. And throughout it all, all she could do was think about Lucy. She had constantly asked if she could see her, but every nurse or doctor had repeated the same thing: ‘I'll check that for you.’ After an hour of nurses and doctors fussing over her she was finally put on her ward, and her bed for the next couple of days.

“Hello, Ona.” A tall brunette popped her head around the curtain, smiling at the girl.

“Hello.” The Spanaird sighed as she gave a tired smile.

“I’m Ingrid. I’m going to be looking after you. I’ve been told by the police and your constable about what's happened.”

Ona nodded, her eyes wandered to the window. 

“I thought you might want to go see Lucy?”

Ona jumped up so quickly she winced from the ache in her body.

“I can see her?”

Ingrid smiled. “Yes, she's just come out of the theatre.” 

Ona climbed out of the bed, her feet slightly wobbly.

“Ona, before we go you need to know she's in a critical condition.” 

The raven haired girl's bright smile dimmed. “She’s been put into an induced coma. She’s had to undergo an intense surgery. The bullets were successfully removed but have caused a sufficient amount of damage to her insides. The surgeons have done all that they can for now, but at this moment in time it's a waiting game.”

Ona felt her stomach lurch, she understood what Ingrid meant, it made her instantly nervous to see Lucy. She nodded and let Ingrid lead the way.

She walked down the corridor with Ingrid, the smell of hospital took over her senses. She noticed nurses and doctors eyed her curiously as they walked. 

“You’re a bit famous. The news of you and Lucy is all over the TV.” Ingrid cringed. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, we have security all over the place. Many news reporters are outside.”

Ona squinted at the fluorescent lights above her head. She wondered if her parents knew what had happened.

“Oh that reminds me. Your constable wanted to see you, but I figured you would maybe want to see Lucy first. I know she's your partner.”

“Oh, we’re not partners yet. I mean maybe-”

“Is she not your partner on the force?” Ingrid looked confused.

“Ohh. Sorry. Yeah. Erm, yeah, she is my work partner.” Ona flushed.

Ingrid nodded and smiled as she picked up on the awkward smile from Ona.

“No worries. I understand.” She placed her hand on Ona’s shoulder.

They stopped outside a room, not too far from Ona’s.

“Okay this is her. I work on this ward, so I’ll be right out here if you need me. But take all the time you need.”

“Thank you very much.” Ona hesitated at the door.

“Take your time. It can be very overwhelming to see a loved one like this.” Ingrid smiled as she rubbed Ona’a shoulder, her kindness reminded her of Alessia.

“Y-Yeah, thank you.”

Ona took a deep breath as she pushed the heavy door open. The room was full of machines beeping and monitors moving. She just about saw Lucy amongst it all. She slowly walked a little further inside, she felt scared to get too close, worried she might somehow turn off a machine. 

Even though Ingrid warned her of the state Lucy was in, it still took her breath away. 

She pursed her lips as her gaze fell on Lucy’s face. Her face had been cleaned, her dark hair was neatly brushed and tucked behind her ear. She looked so peaceful. If it wasn't for the machine breathing for her, you would hardly know she had 3 bullets put in her body. 

Ona sat in the chair next to the bed. She watched as Lucy's chest slowly rose up and down in time with the machine that helped her breath. She ever so gently stroked Lucy's hand, her skin was so soft, so delicate. Despite the small cuts.

“Hola, Lucy.” She whispered as tears sprung to her eyes.

She looked down at her feet as she took in a shuddering breath.

“I don’t know if you can hear me. I’ve heard sometimes people can hear when they are in comas.” 

She leaned closer to the bed, her eyes roamed Lucy's face as if she was waiting for a response.

“Well, I hope you can hear me. I-I just want to thank you. You saved my life, in more ways than one.” Her tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“I know you would probably roll your eyes at me right now and say something like “Yeah, yeah. It's just what I do.”  but you don’t know how thankful I am for you. You are so special to me. I can’t lose you. Please, please pull through this. I promise to tell you how much I love you everyday, every hour. No, every 10 minutes.” Ona smiled between her tears. 

“Besides, you still have tickets to “The Big London Bake.” I know you’re excited for that. I want to see you in an apron, making cakes that are probably better than the teachers. As we know you are the best at everything.” Ona began to smile until her lip quivered, she felt her throat begin to close up. The hold she had was beginning to break. 

“Please, Lucy. I love you so much. You are such a special person. I can't lose you. Please.” She brought Lucy's hand up to her lips, kissing her skin as her salty tears seeped into her lips.

She stayed like that for another half an hour, staring at the girl on the bed. She watched on as the heart monitor counted her heart beats. She listened to the sounds of the beeping machines. It almost started to sound like a relaxing song, a lullaby even. That's when her wet eyes began to droop heavily as her aching body allowed sleep to take over.

She was woken up by a hand gently shaking her.

“Ona, darling. Ona.” 

Ona slowly opened her eyes, a throbbing in her head made her wince. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry, Ona. I didn't mean to hurt you.” 

Ona finally opened her eyes to be met with green eyes, but they weren't Lucys, they Lucy's mums. 

“Carol? Carol! Ona jumped up, and was engulfed in a rib breaking hug. She winced again.

“Ow, sorry, sorry.” She let go of Lucy's mum even though she really didn't want to.

“Oh Ona, your face.” Carol gently cupped Ona’s face as she examined her like the doctors did. “How are you? Sorry, that's a stupid question, we saw it on the news. I don’t even know what to say, you must have gone through so much.” Carol's eyes began to tear up, though it looked like she had already been crying.

“Lucy saved me.” Ona let her tears roll down her face as her voice cracked.

Carol broke out into a soft smile, stroking Ona’s face, her own tears rolling.

But the feeling of guilt engulfed Ona, seeing Lucy's mum in front of her made it even more real.

“I’m so sorry, Carol.” Ona sniffled as her head dropped in shame. “It's my fault.” 

“Woah, hey! No, it's not Ona. Its no ones fault but that awful fucking man. Lucy did what she was meant to do. I don't want to hear you say that again, okay? Come here.” 

Carol hugged Ona again, but more gently this time. The Spanird nuzzled her face into her neck, sobbing as she did. The older woman rubbed her back just like Lucy did the day she cried in the pub toilets with her. It only made her sob more.

“Oh honey, it's okay. You’re okay.” 

She allowed herself to be held for just a while longer. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll let you have some time with Lucy.” She sniffed as she pulled back.

“Oh darling, we've been in here for about 40 minutes. John’s outside getting some air. I didn't want to wake you, it's only because the nurse told me you have visitors.” Carol smiled, wiping the tears off of Ona’s rosy cheeks. “Anyways, you’re family, I would never kick you out of this room. You know you mean the world to Lucy? And us.”

Ona felt her heart flutter, but it pained her, if only she could hear Lucy say those words.

“Thank you, Carol.” She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath in. “I have visitors?”

“Yeah, I think they’re in your room. Also the nurse told me you're due for some medicine, so make sure you get that. Don't miss that, Ona.” She said with a firm tone.

The short brunette nodded but hesitated as she looked over at Lucy.

Lucy’s mum saw the hesitation on Ona’s face, clearly not wanting to leave Lucy. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep a watch on her. You go. I'll be right here when you get back.”

“Okay.” Ona sighed. 

“Get that medicine, darling.” Carol reminded her as she began to walk out. Ona smiled at her motherly instincts, even if she wasn’t her actual daughter. 

“I will.”

Ona made the short trip to her room. She wondered who her visitors could be, she imagined it was maybe Sarina or one of the girls from work. What if it was her parents?  She opened the door to see none other than her two best friends.

“Ona!” Mapi spotted Ona first as she bolted to the smaller girl. 

“Mapi?” She was engulfed into another hug that made her wince again.

“Be careful!” Ona heard Alexia's voice approaching as she told off their clumsy and excited friend.

“I’m sorry, Ona.” Mapi’s wet eyes were full of remorse.

“It's okay. I can’t believe you guys are here!” The girl felt her heart burst.

Alexia opened her arms as she gently embraced Ona in a hug.

“Do you think we would be anywhere else?” The blonde’s normally strong voice cracked as she spoke. 

Ona felt her eyes brimming with tears once more. She loved her best friends. They were her rock, her family. Having them here was almost too much. She had thought about them so much when she was alone in that damp office room. She never thought she'd see them again, and now here they were.

“Thank you. I love you both so much.”

Mapi squeezed herself into Alexia's embrace, who still hadn’t let go of Ona.

“We love you, Ona. We’re so glad you're okay.”

The three held each other until they were interrupted as Ingrid entered the room.

“Oh, sorry. I just need to give Ona some pain relief.” She wrinkled her nose.

Ona pulled out of the embrace. “That's okay, Ingrid. I actually really need it.” Ona chuckled as her best friends let her go.

Ona sat on the bed as Ingrid pushed the trolley of medicine in.

“Hello, Ona’s friends.” 

“Hello.”

“Hola, guapa.”

Alexia shot her friend a look, rolling her eyes at the girl.

Ona couldn't help but smile as even in a hospital Mapi would still try to shoot her shot.

Ingrid’s cheeks slightly blushed as she caught Mapi’s eyes on her.

“How’s your head?”

“I've-” Mapi was about to be massively inappropriate, but was stopped as Alexia kicked her ankle to shut her up, giving her a very serious death stare.

“I do have a headache. It hurts a lot.” Ona confessed. 

“Okay, let me know if it gets worse or if you feel sick at all. I also want to check your head and hand.” She said kindly. 

“I will. Thank you, Ingrid.”

Ingrid gave Ona her pain relief and checked her over. Not ever faltering with all the questions Mapi shot at her, as she suddenly became interested in everything hospital related. 

The 2 best friends stayed for another hour until Sarina came to check in on Ona, shortly followed by Demi and Jordan and Jill. But as soon as she could she rejoined Lucy's parents and brother in her room. Visiting hours had come to an end, Carol ensured Ona she would be back again tomorrow and Ona already missed her. She hugged them all goodbye. She was able to stay with Lucy for another hour until she was told she had to return to her own room. 

The Spaniard watched some tv before she felt herself drifting off to sleep. Her slumber was peaceful at first.

Slipping quickly into a dream.

She was walking down her street outside her house. She saw Lucy smiling, but she didn’t speak. The dream suddenly felt off. Like she was being watched. Suddenly she was in her own flat. Slims was in front of her, but his face was monstrous, it was swollen and bloody. He was gasping for air while he was laughing. He tried to grab her. She then felt a pain in her head. She tried to run from him, but she couldn't move, she couldn't even scream, it felt like she was in quicksand. Slowly being pulled deeper and deeper.

Ona jumped up in her bed. Gasping as her heart raced, panic setting in of the unfamiliar room. She was wet with sweat, she pulled the wet hospital gown of her skin, hoping to get some air. She winced as her head throbbed, she was due for some more pain relief. She was about to press the button for the nurse when she heard a rush off feet outside her room. She looked at the small glass and saw a few heads running by. 

She jumped out of bed and stuck her head out the door to see what the commotion was about. She watched as the doctors and a few nurses rushed to a room down the corridor. 

Ona’s heart stopped beating as she realised the room they were rushing into.

“No.” She started to jog down the hall way, ignoring the way her head screamed at her with each step.

She was outside Lucy's room, she tried to tiptoe through the window but she was too short. She slowly opened the door to see a room full of people, rushing around Lucy. 

The machines that had once beeped in a rhythm were now flat lining. The one constant beeping tone was almost deafening. 

“I’m losing her, give me a shot.” The head doctor demanded. 

“Clear.” A nurse rubbed the defibrillators together before she pressed them onto Lucy's chest. Ona felt herself flinch as she watched the electric jolt Lucy’s body, it was the first time Lucy had ever looked frail. 

“I think we may have blood on the lungs!” 

“She'll drown. We need to operate.”

“Her body is going into shock!”

“We're losing her. Heart rate has dropped. We’re close to having no pulse.”

Ona stood frozen in fear as she watched Lucy's body fight for its life. 

“Ona?” 

Ingrid appeared behind Ona, but the girl didn't look at her. The Norwegian nurse looked through the glass to see the commotion that was unfolding. 

“Ona. you can't see this. Come.”

The taller girl pulled a crying Ona away.

“No, no. Ingrid! Please! Lucy!” 

Ingrid was stronger than Ona would have thought, easily moving her away from the door. 

But before the door shut she heard those 3 crippling words.

“We’ve lost her.” 

—-----------------

Everything had changed. 

Ona had been discharged from the hospital after a week of treatment. Her head was healing nicely, though she still had pain every once in a while. 

The first night out of hospital Mapi and Alexia had taken Ona home, ordering her favourite take away and watching a feel good film. Ona was entirely grateful for her friends, she needed them now more then ever and they hadn’t left her side since the day they first saw her in that hospital room. 

But when the night was over and the girls left to return to their own homes, Ona felt weird. She felt off, nothing seemed right. It felt like she was being watched, like something was lurking in her home. Noises that normally wouldn’t notice made her nervous. Every little creak, every little bump, she felt her heart race quicker. 

She was scared. 

The sound of a car door closing made her flinch. She closed her eyes as she tried to block it out, block out the noise of that evil laugh that now consumed her mind. 

She couldn’t sleep that night, she tried but she only ended up waking in a puddle of sweat from her nightmares. Her mind had taken her back to that day, back to the pain. She no longer felt safe in her own home. 

The next day she packed a bag and stayed in Alexia’s spare room. 

Sarina had insisted that she needed to take some time off, and she did, but after the fourth day the girl was going mad alone in Alexia's flat. She needed to distract herself and work was the easiest thing to do. 

But, it had been difficult returning to the office without Lucy.

Ona stared out of the office window, the sun was shining considerably bright for the January weather. She found herself staring a lot lately, dissociating with the life around her. 

“Hey Ona, I sent over the reports you asked for, have you signed them off?” Jordan put her head over the computer top like she always did.

Ona looked up at her blonde friend.

“No? The ones I asked for on John Burns? You haven't sent it.” Ona opened her emails to make sure. 

Jordan looked confused, until realisation hit her.

“I must have sent them to Lucy's email, again.”

Ona felt her chest tighten.

“It's okay.” She tried to put on a smile for her friend.

“It's not. Shit, I’m sorry, Ona. It's not the first time. I just automatically searched her email.”

Demi then appeared next to Jordan. 

“I’ve definitely written Lucy's name in a few emails to you, Ona. I’m sorry.” 

Both girls looked genuinely distraught, the Spainard could see it on their faces.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry. Seriously.”

A silence fell over the three girls, Demi and Jordan clearly feeling bad. 

Ona glanced over at the messy, her eyes lingering over a picture of Lucy and her niece. 

“I miss her.” Jordans eyes looked slightly glassy. 

“So do I.” Demi looked over to the empty seat that was once filled, it looked like it pained her to do it.

“I made 4 tea’s the other day, one was for Lucy.” She chuckled sadly. 

“I do that.” Jordan confessed, as she bit her lip in thought.

Ona felt her heart sink, she let out a sigh as she thought about the brunette. 

“I’m going to go for lunch.” Ona started to gather her bits.

“Do you want company?” Jordan asked.

“No, it's okay. Thank you.” Ona smiled at her friends. She wasn't upset with them but she just needed a little time on her own.

Ona made her way to the destination in mind.

—---

“Gravy or curry, darling?”

“Curry, please.”

“Good choice, enjoy sweetheart.” 

“Thank you.” Ona smiled at the kind grey haired woman. 

She walked to the spot she had been thinking about a lot lately. She faintly smiled as she remembered the night Lucy brought her here. She sat on the bench facing the city. She sat alone in the cold, eating her curry and chips.

—--------

3 months later.

Ona walked into the graveyard, her red umbrella stood over her head as the rain came down around her. She felt weird, she never liked graveyards. Not since she was a kid and attended her abuelas funeral. She spotted an older woman laying flowers on a grave, she wondered if it was a partner that she was visiting. 

She walked on, making her way to the spot. Finally, she came face to face to the grave, she looked over the earth that was still risen. Her stomach dipped as she looked at the name. A cold shiver ran up her spine as the memories of that day came back to her.

She looked down at her feet, not knowing what to do. Should she say something? A prayer? She didn't believe in god or any religion, so she wouldn't even know what to say. She felt a wave of emotions hit her, pain, anger, sadness, guilt. Guilt was the main feeling, the one that laid heavy on her chest.

She looked around the peaceful grounds, then back at the tomb stone. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled. Her mind wondered what life would be like if things were different that day. She wondered what would have happened if Lucy hadn't found her, if she had been aware of her surroundings. That familiar pain in the back of her head creeped at the skin where her scar lived. 

Her eyes started to blur with tears. Her scarred hand flexed awkwardly around the umbrella handle as the first tear rolled down her left cheek. Then another, and another, she couldn't stop once she started. The floodgates had opened up. The pain, the anger, the guilt coming up in sobs. She closed her eyes once again, trying to breath through the thoughts swirling in her head.  

She took in a deep breath as she finally started to calm down. 

Large beams of sun peeked through the clouds, and the rain slowly stopped. Ona still got confused with the British weather. She watched as a double rainbow started to form a mile or so away,it brought a small smile to her wet cheeks. But before she could think about it too much her phone started to ring.

She looked at the screen and answered.

“Hey.”

“Hi, how is it?”

“Fine.” Her voice wobbled a little.

“Just fine?” 

“I cried. I feel stupid.” Ona sniffled. 

“No! Don’t feel stupid! The therapist said that could happen, didn't she?”

Ona nodded. “Yeah. I’m glad I did it.”

“Good. I’m glad you did too.”

“Sí. I’m heading to you now.”

“Okay, take all the time you need. I’m in no rush.”

Ona laughed through wet eyes. “That's a lie! You’ve been in that hospital bed for 3 months, even the nurses say you're driving them to the wall.”

“It's ‘up the wall.’ And I'll have you know that nurse Mary loves me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ona rolled her eyes. “I'll see you soon.” 

“Okay. See you in a bit.” 

Ona took one last look at the grave.

‘Here lies Frank Smith. May god rest his soul’

She walked away. Her smile grew as the sun opened up the clouds further. She suddenly felt lighter as she left the place of rest.

—---------------

“Okay, that's everything.” Ona looked over at her empty suitcase as she hung the last bit of clothing up in the now packed wardrobe. 

“Yeah?”

Ona shivered as a familiar voice purred into her ear. 

“You should be resting.” The Spaniard turned around, a concerned look on her face.

“What's the point of resting if I dont have my sexy girlfriend nurse at my beck and call?” 

Ona snorted with laughter. “Are you serious? Gosh you're so needy, Luce.” 

She cupped Lucy's face, bringing their lips together, smiling at the needy woman.

Though It had been a difficult 3 months.

Ona had nearly lost Lucy in the hospital that night, and even weeks after. Her body had gone into a cardiac arrest, her heart had actually stopped beating for a whole minute. But the girl didn't have the name ‘Tough’ for no reason. It was a miracle really, the doctors and nurses brought her back from death's doors. It was a rocky road from then on. She had been in a coma for 3 weeks, her body had worked overtime to keep her alive. She had specialists watching over her constantly, day and night, worried she could slip at any point.

But after 3 long weeks Lucy woke up. 

When she finally awakened from her long sleep, she was met with those beautiful brown eyes that she fell in love with. Staring down at her. 

“Bon dia.” Ona whispered.

The older brunette stayed in the hospital for 3 long months. She recovered quickly, though the doctors had to keep constantly reminding her to take it easy. Ona visited her everyday, she even introduced Alexia and Mapi to Lucy. Giving Mapi even more reason to see a certain nurse. 

Lucy needed a lot of care, her body was getting better but she was on crutches, she needed help to wash, cook and clean and Ona was the first person to volunteer. So, it was decided that Ona would move in with Lucy. 

The Spaniard hadn’t slept in her own flat since the night she stayed with Alexia. The blonde was sad to see her go, but she also couldn't deny how happy and excited her younger friend was.

The younger brunette smiled as she leaned into her lover.

“I love the taste of your lips.” Lucy purred into Ona’s mouth.

Ona whimpered, already feeling a jolt of heat travelling South. To say she was desperate was an understatement. It has been over 3 months since she and Lucy had sex but she wasn't about to jump on Lucy while her body was still healing. 

“Lucy. You know we can’t. Your stitches-”

“Are fine. I promise. I’ll stop if it's too much.”

She kissed the petite girl softly.  

Ona bit her cheek in worry, but god she wanted Lucy so badly. 

Lucy saw the pensive look on her face, she understood the stress and anxiety that Ona had been through since that day. Her cuts and bruises may have healed but her mental state hadn't and Lucy was never going to make her feel like she had to do anything.

Lucy gently cupped Ona’s chin, her green eyes scanning her face. She lovingly stroked her thumb on the girl's left cheek.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know? I’ll wait for you. Whenever you feel ready.” 

Ona melted into the older brunette's soft touch, her reassuring voice made her heart melt. She felt so safe with Lucy. She knew the girl would never push her, she knew she would understand if she wasn’t ready. She had been scared for this moment, but that feeling of being scared didn’t come up, Lucy was enough to make her feel safe.

“Thank you, Luce. I’m good. I just, I’m a little embarrassed.” 

“What? Why?” The brunette looked genuinely confused.

“I’m of wet already.” Ona bit her lip, her brown doe eyes looking innocently up at Lucy. 

Lucy's mouth gaped open. The Spaniard watched as her pupils grew with pure want.

Ona flirtatiously pushed her chin closed, smiling playfully as she walked backwards, taking Lucys free hand that wasn't holding a crutch. She guided them towards the bed. Lucy hobbled with her good leg, Ona couldn't help but think she even made that look sexy.

“Come lay down.” Ona whispered as she patted the middle of the bed.

Lucy lent her crutch on the wall as she slowly took a seat on the edge of the bed. Trying her best not to wince, but Ona didn't miss a thing.

“You sure you’re okay, Luce?”

This time it was the younger brunette to stroke Lucy's cheek. 

“Yeah. I think I might just have to be on my back. My thighs a bit sore. Sorry, really great sex talk.” She rolled her eyes in slight frustration. 

“Hey, that's okay. You know I like to be on top.” Ona purred as she brought her lips to Lucy's ear, nibbling on the sensitive skin. 

Lucy's jaw clenched as she felt her body needing the girl in front of her. She pulled Ona closer to her, capturing their lips together. The kiss was slow and gentle, nobody pushed for dominance. Both girls just wanted to familiarise themselves with each other. Of course they had sneaked a few kisses here and there in the hospital but they had been interrupted nearly every time. Ingrid had even started covering her eyes before she entered. 

The kiss slowly deepened. It was Lucy who first asked for entry, humming when Ona easily gave it to her. Her tongue stroked Ona’s lips, making the girl whimper. Lucy felt her clit throb hearing those beautiful noises she pulled from the girl.

The kiss became more intense, but it wasn't messy, it was still slow, but the emotional force became more apparent, the girls hummed and groaned as they pushed everything they were feeling for eachother in their kiss. Lucy felt Ona’s fingers at the bottom of her shirt, waning the clothing gone. 

“Can I?” She mumbled against her lips.

“Y-Yeah.” Lucy nodded.

Ona unbuttoned the shirt without breaking the kiss, exposing Lucy's firm stomach. 

And her scars. 

The Spaianrd stroked her hands over Lucy's chest, smiling into the kiss as she felt no signs of a bra. Her fingertips came into contact with the small lump on Lucy's chest. She broke the kiss as she leaned back, she eyed the red mark and brought her lips to Lucy's chest gently kissing the scar that was still healing. 

“I love you.” She gently pressed her lips back on Lucys.

The older brunette smiled. “I love you too.”

Lucy removed Ona’s t-shirt, her eyes took in the beautiful girl in front of her. She felt a rush of love take over her as she began to kiss the younger girl's neck with the most gentle of touches.

Everything was slow, every touch, every kiss, every move. Neither girl wanted to miss a thing, each little gasp and little whimper heightened the rush between them. Ona broke the kisses, she stood up as she unbuttoned her trousers, but it was Lucy who removed her little black thongs. 

She kissed Ona’s stomach, relishing in the tiny gasps that fell from the Spanianrds mouth. She left a small trail of kisses along her abs, flicking her tongue along her milky skin. Ona could feel herself becoming wetter from each kiss. She was sure she could have come from Lucy’s tongue on her skin alone.

“Come.” 

“I’m going to if you keep doing that.”

Lucy laughed. “No, I mean come.” 

Lucy dragged herself to the headboard. Her back was now leaning against it. Ona shuffled on her knees towards the older brunette. 

“Come sit.” Lucy tapped her good thigh, a lustful smile plastered her face.

The Spaniard bit her lip as she gently straddled her good thigh. 

“Fuck!” She hissed as her wet pussy came into contact with something other than her own fingers. 

Lucy's hands instantly gripped her hips, gently making the girl rock on to her thigh. Ona understood the gesture and began to move her hips, sliding her wet sex along Lucy's skin. 

“You look so good, Ona.” Lucy sighed in pleasure as she watched her girlfriend use her thigh to work herself up. 

Ona’s head dropped back, feeling her orgasm already building up, but she didn't want to come like this. She stopped her movements.

“I want you, Lucy. Please.” She took Lucy's hand from her hip, placing it between her legs. “Inside.” She whispered breathlessly.

“Anything you want.” Lucy husked as she brought her fingers to her core, coating her digits with Ona’s essence. 

She circled her clit, her own arousal growing as she watched the girl whine above her. Her eyes took in Ona’s naked form in front of her. Her heart swelled knowing she was all hers.

“Ona, baby. How are you so-”

She pushed her fingers inside, smiling as Ona gasped.

“Perfect.” 

“Dios, fuck!” The younger girl whimpered as she took Lucy in.

Lucy was gentle, she slowly stroked her fingers in and out of Ona’s tight walls. The younger brunette rolled her hips at a slow pace, her core fluttered as she remembered what it was like to have Lucy again.

“You feel so good.” She closed her eyes as she allowed herself to get lost in Lucy's touch. 

Lucy was in heaven as she watched the petite girl's jaw slacken. Her neck tilted back as she fluttered around Lucy's fingers. 

She moved her hand from Ona’s hip to her long caramel hair, gently entangling her fingers. Ona’s eyes opened as she felt Lucys touch. She leaned closer to Lucy, her heart fluttering at the smile Lucy gave her.

“I love you, Ona.”

Lucy pressed her forehead to her lover. Their lips inches apart.

“I love you-u.” 

Lucy's fingers started to pick up pace, bringing the girl closer to her peak.

“I’ll always protect you.” Lucy whispered, her voice trembled as she let her emotions get to her.

Ona heard her tone, she felt her own eyes water at the words, she knew Lucy was trying to get her emotions across.

Ona connected their lips once more, gasping into Lucy's mouth as she felt her cunt flutter around her fingers. The older brunette circled her thumb around Ona’s very wet clit, she smiled into the kiss as the Spaniard let out a desperate cry. 

“Lucy! D-Don’t stop. Please!” She trembled above.

Lucy shook her head. “Never. I’ve got you, I've got you, baby.”

Ona bit her lip, her thighs began to shake as that warm familiar feeling drifted up her body. Their heated mouths came together as Ona rocked harder on Lucy's fingers.

The pure love the girls had for each other was radiating intensely between them, it was like a pull of inner thoughts, both yearning for the other flowing, pouring between them as one person. This was more than sex, they were making love. 

“Fuck. I’m coming.” 

“Come for me baby, you can do it.” Lucy whispered against her lover's lips, adoring the way Ona’s breath hitched.

Ona let out a whimpering moan as her body spasmed against Lucy’s. The older brunette watched in wonder as she felt the soft muscles twitch around her fingers. She smiled proudly as she kissed Ona’s chest, tasting the sweat on her skin, 

“Lucy. Fuck.” The Spaniard breathlessly giggled as she felt her body shaking. 

Lucy stared at the drop dead gorgeous girl in front of her, she bit her lip as she eyed the dark freckles that she loved so much, the brown specks standing out against her flushed face. 

She slowly removed her fingers, but didn’t dare waste the taste of her girl. She sucked off any remaining juices as Ona watched her with wide eyes. She yelped in shock as Ona smashed her lips against her own, her tongue begging to taste herself on Lucy.

“I want you.” Ona mumbled against Lucy's lips.

“Yeah?” Lucy smirked as she felt Ona tug at her jogger bottoms.

“So badly.” Ona began to kiss down Lucy’s body, giving her abs extra attention. She eyed the second scar, making sure to give the mark a lingering kiss. 

“How did I get so lucky?” Lucy stroked Ona’s hair behind her ear.

The younger girl moved lower sucking on Lucy's tight skin. She easily slipped the joggers and Lucy's boxers off, revealing just how wet Lucy was for her.

“Oh? Someones a little excited.” Ona smirked as she lowered herself back down between Lucy's thighs, gently biting the sensitive flesh. 

“Hmm, fuck. Ona.” The brunette closed her eyes as she let out a desperate sigh. “Please, ba- shit!”

Ona eagerly stroked her tongue through the girl's wet lips, humming as she was finally able to taste Lucy again.

“Ona, your mouth is so fucking perfect.”

Ona buried her face further, dipping her tongue into Lucy's tight walls. The older brunette lovingly stroked Ona’s hair back, watching the girl as she fucked her with her tongue. A groan rumbled from her throat as the girl between her legs pleasured her like it was her job. Her wetness was constantly coating the girl's tongue, as her pussy spasmed with heat.  

Ona would stay there all day if she could, her eyes closed in pleasure, swallowing Lucy's essence, feeling Lucy on her tongue. She smiled as she felt Lucy's fingers stroke her face. She looked up at the girl on her back, she shot a wink as she saw Lucy watching her. Her beautiful green hooded eyes struggled to stay focused.  

“You’re so amazing, Ona.” Lucy sighed as she stroked Ona’s hair once more. 

Ona kept their eyes fixed as she gilded her tongue through Lucy's velvety folds, wrapping her lips around her erect clit. Lucy broke the gaze as her head was thrown back on the pillow, her clit finally in Ona’s warm mouth.

“Yes, just like that, Ona.”

Lucy delicately entangled her fingers through the caramel locks, she had a secret obsession with Ona’s hair, she loved the feeling of her soft tresses in between her fingers. She tried to keep her eyes on the girl as she bobbed her head up and down as she sucked and licked her bundle of nerves. But when Ona began to kiss her clit she lost it. 

She felt her thighs shaking, the warm feeling in her thighs and stomach began to rise.

Her hand pushed Onas head slightly further between her legs.

“That's it. Just like that. I love you so fucking much. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Lucy groaned as her hips grinded up into Ona’s mouth, her swollen lips kept her swollen clit captured, swirling her tongue around the pink head. She watched as the beautiful girl above her jolted and moaned, her abs flexing with each thrust. She watched proudly as she crumbled above her.

Lucy hit her climax, the heavy feeling washed over her body as she came loudly in her girlfriend's mouth. 

She shakily breathed out shorts gasps, her chest rising and falling hard. Ona was almost scared she might have pushed her body a little too hard. 

“You okay there?” Ona kissed her thigh.

“Okay isn't even close to the word that I’m feeling.” Lucy chuckled breathlessly. 

Ona laid her head against Lucy's good thigh, she was absolutely in love with her view. This gorgeous goddess of a woman was still stroking her hair as she calmed her heart rate down. The older brunette caught her eyes on the Spaniard.

“You’re so beautiful, Lucy,” 

Lucy's cheeks blushed harder than before.

“Thank you, but you can’t see the view that I have right now.” 

Ona’s brown eyes twinked as she smiled up at her lover. She kissed Lucy's thighs as she made her way up, she came in contact with the third scar on Lucy's body. She gently kissed the red mark on her thigh, kissing her way right up into Lucy's mouth.

Everything had changed, but their love had only grown.

—---------

1 year later.

“Come on, Lucy. We're going to be late.” Ona shouted from their bedroom as she fixed her earrings in. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Lucy pulled her suit jacket on as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror.

Her head snapped up as she heard a wolf whistle from the door, smiling as Ona greedily took in her outfit.

“Maybe we can be a little late.” Ona giggled as she walked over capturing Lucy's lips. 

“Yes! We definitely can!” Lucy picked the shorter girl up with ease, smirking when she heard the surprised squeak from her girl. She placed her on the bathroom side, slotting herself between Ona’s legs, her strong hands pushed the black flowy dress up. Smiling to herself as she exposed the Spaniards thighs.

Her mouth eagerly captured Ona’s, the younger brunette moaned into the heated kiss. But she pulled herself away before she could get too into it.

“No, I was joking, we have to go! This day is for you.” Ona reminded her. 

Lucy sighed as she looked away, Ona frowned as she instantly saw the worry on her girlfriend's face. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Are you not happy for today?”

Lucy anxiously rubbed her thumbs on the younger girl's exposed thighs, not meeting Ona’s eyes.

“Luce? What's wrong? Talk to me.” Ona lifted Lucy's chin, forcing the girl to look at her.

“I….I just worry that I don't actually deserve this.” She sighed heavily, 

“Oh, my baby. Of course you do, Luce. There isn't anyone out there that's more deserving than you. That's why she's picked you.”

Lucy's thumbs continued their movements on the girl's skin.

“Lucy? Come on. The whole team also think it, you know that right? They adore you and you put in 110 percent everyday.” 

Lucy smiled into Ona’s hand. Her words perking her up slightly.

“You sure?” The girl's tone was full of doubt.

It was weird for Ona to see Lucy so unsure of herself. The girl was a beacon of self confidence. 

“I’m a thousand percent sure. You’re the back bone to that place. And besides you literally saved my life.” Ona gently kissed Lucy’s lips, happy to feel her girlfriend melt into the kiss. 

“Hmm, I did, didn’t I?”

Lucy’s thumbs snaked up Ona’s thighs as the kiss became a little more heated. The shorter girl’s breath hitched when she felt Lucy’s fingers stroke over her lace underwear. 

“You sure we don’t have time?” 

Ona groaned as she reluctantly pulled away. “I’m sure, let’s go.”

Lucy pouted but the shorter girl only ignored her, giving her a quick peck on her lips instead. Lucy helped her back down, smacking her arse as they left the bathroom. 

—————

“Thank you everyone for coming today. It’s a real honour to have been promoted to Chief Constable. I will do my best to feel some big shoes. But I actually want to thank the team. If it wasn’t for them myself and Ona wouldn’t be standing here with you today. I want to also thank Sarina for not firing me.” 

The room of guests laughed as Lucy winked at Sarina.

“You have taught me so much over the years, and I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to also learn and grow into the role. Thank you for also allowing me to work things on my own.” 

The room clapped and cheered. 

“Ona. Thank you for being the rock that I needed after everything that happened. You were my sun when things got dark. You stuck by me through my good and bad days, and trust me there were many bad days. But you never gave up on me. I hope I was your rock during this journey, and I hope to be your rock forever.” 

Ona nodded her head, watching only Lucy. Her eyes watered with tears as she proudly looked at her girlfriend. She looked up at Jill when she felt her hand on her shoulder. 

“Anyways. That’s enough from me. I think it’s time for some shots!” 

The group broke out into laughs and cheers. 

Lucy headed straight to Ona who had the biggest smile on her face, she looked so utterly proud of Lucy.

—----------

2 and half years later. 

“Ready Bronze?”

 “So ready.” Lucy chuckled as she looked in the mirror.  

“What are you talking about? She's been ready since the day Ona walked into that office.” Demi rolled her eyes, laughing at the question.

“That's true, she was a goner the moment she looked into those big brown eyes.” Jill chuckled as she pushed Lucy out the way to look at her own reflection. 

“I won’t even argue, you're all right.” Lucy smirked as she fixed her tie.

“Come on then! Let's go get you down the aisle. Your soon to be wife is probably getting impatient.”

Alexia walked into Ona’s room, smiling at her best friend. 

“You look beautiful, Ona.” 

“Thank you, Ale.” The petite girl opened her arms for best friend.

“I look good too? No?” Mapi strolled over, joining the hug.

Alexia rolled her eyes, but her smirk was anything but annoyed. “Si, Mapi, you look beautiful too.” Alexia squeezed her friend's cheek.

“Aye! Watch my make up!” Mapi whacked Alexia’s hand away.

“Si, sorry! I wouldn't want you to look bad for your sexy nurse girlfriend!” Alexia chuckled, as she made sure Ona’s hair was in place. “You ready, Ona?” The blonde girl eyed Ona in the mirror as she held her shoulders. 

“So ready.” She smiled brightly at her bridesmaids.

The day was perfect, the weather was perfect, the food was perfect, the music was perfect, the atmosphere was perfect. It was everything they dreamed of and more. 

The newly wedded couple danced in the middle of the room as everyone around them watched and smiled. They swayed to the song that now meant more to them than anyone would ever understand. 

Ona tucked her head underneath Lucy's chin, she inhaled the familiar perfume that brought her so much comfort. Lucy kissed the top of her wife's head, smiling into her soft hair. 

🎵You do something to me that I can't explain. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. Every beat of my heart. We got something going on. 🎵

—------

“Don’t drop me!” Ona squealed as Lucy carried her through the hotel room. Again.

It was the third day into their honeymoon but she insisted that she needed to be carried every time.

“When have I ever dropped you?”

“That one time when-”

The girl was cut off when Lucy purposefully kissed her. Clearly not wanting to be reminded of that one time she dropped the Spaniard. But, Ona was more than happy to let it go when Lucy kissed her like that.

The taller brunette laid her newly wedded wife on the large double bed, she continued to kiss the girl below her, smiling as shs felt Ona’s hips grinding up into her.

“You already desperate, baby?”

Ona nodded with her teeth between her lips, her caramel hair laid out on the white sheets. Her hooded brown eyes were desperate for Lucy.

Lucy bit her lip as she looked at the girl below her, she'd never get bored of this sight. 

“What does my wife want?” She kissed Ona’s neck, sucking hard on her skin. Ona’s hands gripped on Lucy's waist as she felt the impeccable love bite being made on her skin. 

“Fuck me, ruin me.” Ona gasped as Lucy attached her mouth to the girl's easily accessed nipple, it made Lucy wonder if she wore this dress for this only purpose.

Lucy trailed wet sloppy kisses all over Ona’s chest, smirking as her wife’s whimpers became louder. She sucked and licked the sensitive flesh, opening the buttons that travelled down the easily accessed garment. She pulled the smaller girl to the edge of the bed, lowering herself to her knees. 

Her mouth gaped open as she was greeted with Ona’s already wet and exposed lips.

“No underwear?” Lucy smirked.

“No.” Ona husked, hearing the sultry and shocked hint in Lucy's voice. 

Lucy looked up to the skies as if she was thanking the gods for sending her this perfect girl.

She leaned in closer, her mouth watered at the beautiful site in front of her. A dripping and messy Ona was her favourite kind of Ona. One long broad stroke had the Spainards eyes rolling in the back of her head. 

“Lucccyy.”

The older brunette lapped noisily at Onas entrance, smiling into Ona’s cunt when she began to lift her hips up, needing more friction. 

“You taste even better as my wife.” Lucy groaned as she licked her lips.

Ona loved being spoken to during sex, it would always make her wet, but being called Lucy's wife nearly broke the fucking dam.

“Say it again.” Ona breathed out.

“My wife?” Lucy wrapped her mouth around Ona’s clit.

“Fuck! Again.”

“My wife, Mrs Ona Bronze.” She chuckled as she softly licked through Onas sensitive flesh.

The Spanairds legs started to shake, her hand entangled in Lucy's dark locks, gripping tightly as her hips grinded into Lucy’s talented mouth. She could feel every inch of the girl's tongue, gently caressing her heat.

“I’m your wife, Lucy. I belong to you. No one else. I’m only yours.” Ona gasped as her body started to feel her orgasm climbing.

The older brunette groaned into Ona’s core, she felt herself becoming almost dizzy at Ona’s words. She pulled Ona’s strong legs further apart as she ate her girl out like her life depended on it. The young brunette’s hips started to frash, as she pushed Lucy further into her core, her jaw clenching as her orgasm was about to crash over her. 

Lucy replaced her tongue with her thumb, watching the girl losing all control over her body. 

“Is my wife going to come for me? My good obedient wife?”

“Yes. Yes!”

“You’re so pretty for me, Ona. So wet and pretty. My pretty life wife.” Lucy brought her mouth back to Onas' pussy as she easily slipped two fingers inside her wife.

The dam broke. 

Ona’s cunt clenched around Lucy's fingers as her orgasm erupted through her sweaty body. Her fingers pulled on Lucy's hair as she moaned out in pleasure, fucking her wifes face. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to recover, but Lucy’s tongue was still caressing her folds. 

Her strong thighs tried to close around Lucy's head as her wife continued to suckle her clit between her lips, but Lucy's strong arms kept her open as the girl tried to squirm away. She whimpered loudly as Lucy's mouth never let up, drinking her down, swallowing every drop. 

“Lucy!” Ona begged. 

Lucy didn't listen, she was too engrossed in the taste of Ona, too distracted at the way her thighs trembled around hands. She eyed the petite girl above her, she had already won the fight when Ona began to moan again. 

She stayed between the girl's legs until she gave her another orgasm. Her face and sheets were covered in Ona’s juices. 

“Such a good wife.” Ona chuckled as she watched the girl quiver on the bed.

She walked over to the suitcase, pulling out the strap she loved. She stripped her clothes, pulling her harness over her legs.

Ona was already desperate for her again. She didn't need to be told what position to get into, she turned around spreading her knees as she put herself in Lucy's favourite position. 

Lucy smiled as she watched the shorter brunette. 

“You really are obedient, aren't you?” She slapped the girl's arse cheek, leaving a bright red mark.

“Yes.” Ona nodded her face pressed against the sheets.

The taller brunette stood behind the girl, exposing her dripping sex. She grabbed the strap in her hand, and gently rubbed it through Ona’s puffy wet lips.

“Luce, please.” Ona whispered.

“Don’t worry baby. I’m right here.” Lucy stroked the girl's cheeks as she slowly pushed herself into her wife, loving the way Ona gasped as she entered her.

This view of Ona was maybe Lucy's favourite view. Having the girl bent over, dripping wet, giving herself so easily over to Lucy sent an animalistic urge through her. She rocked her hips at a steady pace, pulling the thick strap all the way out, leaving the head inside Ona’s walls as she easily slid back.

It was a gentle motion but it didn't stop Ona from gasping for air, she could feel every inch of Lucy inside her. The way she stroked along her tight walls, her cunt clenching along the plastic made her brows twitch.

“Look at my good little bride. Taking me, pleasing me just like you should.” Lucy started to rock her hips faster, rougher.

“Y-Yes. I want to please you, L-Lucyyy.” She started to grip the sheets below her as Lucy began to fuck the ait out of her.

“You always please me Ona. Fuck.” Her head rolled back in pleasure as the base of the strap rubbed perfectly at her clit. “If it's not your perfect mouth pleasing me, it's your perfect tight pussy.” 

Ona got louder as the trust got deeper, the rooms next door would definitely know Lucys name by the end of today, but Lucy didnt care about the neighbours right now, she just wanted to fuck her wife. 

“Fuck, just like that Ona, you take it so goos, baby.” 

She gripped on to Ona’s arms, pulling them behind her back. She smirked wickedly the moment she heard the tell tell signs of her wifes next orgasm approaching. 

“No, no. Not yet. Don’t you dare come, Ona.”

Ona let out a high pitched whine, she was already close, her over stimulated body was almost giving up. 

Lucy held her wrist behind her back with her one large hand as she grabbed Ona’s caramel hair in her other hand. She tugged at the long tresses, making Ona’s noises even louder as her head was forced to move.

Lucy felt her back start to sweat. She was working the girl hard, her body was gleaming with her own sweat, her muscles flexed as she stroked in and out of the girl's tired body. She was fucking the girl like she was trying to put a baby inside her. The sounds of wet skin bounded across the room, along with loud pleasured moans.

“Is Ona Bronze going to come for me? Come all over my strap?” 

Lucy groaned at her own words, her orgasm was just on the horizon.

“Yes. YES! Please.”

“Louder.”

“YES!” 

“Always ready to please and obey. Aren't you, Ona? Such a good fucking wife.”

Ona’s cheeks blushed, Lucy’s words were throwing her mind into a haze.

Lucy felt her orgasm washing over her body. She gripped harder on Ona, fucking the girl hard into the bed below 

“Come with me, baby!”

Both girls let out a mess of moans. Lucy’s body shook behind Ona as she came with a loud groan, yanking the girl's hair back as she did. 

She could feel Ona’s walls sucking her strap in deeper, watching the plastic sinking into her walls. 

“So good. So good! My good little wife.”

Ona lost all ability to hold herself up. She allowed Lucy to pull her up against her chest, her eyes fluttered shut feeling Lucy’s lips against her neck. 

“I love you.” Lucy nuzzled Ona’s sweaty neck.

“I love you too.” The shorter girl smiled lazily. 

Lucy pulled out of Ona gently, discarding the strap.

“Shall we actually go to the beach now?” Lucy chuckled. 

Ona laughed out loud, her caramel hair swaying down her back. Lucy noticed the Mexican sun had already made her freckles darker. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” The younger brunette agreed. “Shall we go to the nudist beach?” Ona suggested with a cheeky smile. 

Lucy nearly broke her neck as she snapped her head up. “No! Nobody gets to see my wife naked. Only me.” Lucy pouted. 

Ona crawled to the end of the bed, kissing Lucy’s chest with her doe brown eyes looking up innocently.

“Hmm, remind me again.” Ona mumbled against Lucy's skin.

“My wife.” Lucy whispered.

The petite brunette could smell the wetness between Lucy's legs. It made her mouth water. She slowly started to kiss down her skin until her lips wrapped around Lucy's already swollen clit. 

“Fuck! My perfect wife.” Lucy groaned, her mouth opening in pleasure.

She entangled her fingers between Ona’s hair, face fucking hair newly wedded wife.

The beach could wait.

—---------

4 years later.

Lucy heard a knock on the door.

“That must be them.” She smiled at her wife.

She made her way to the front door, smiling as she could hear Alexia and Mapi bickering. 

“Merry Christmas!” Mapi shouted as she barged through the front door, her hands full of presents. 

“Merry Christmas, Mapi. You good?” Lucy chuckled as she watched the tattooed girl struggle to walk past her.

“Yeah, I’m good. Where’s my baby?”

Ingrid kissed Lucy on the cheek as she followed her fiance inside. “Merry Christmas, Lucy.”

“Merry Christmas, Ingrid. She's in the front room with Ona.” The brunette smiled.

Alexia hugged Lucy at the door as she rolled her eyes.

“She’s hyper already.” Alexia mumbled.

“It's christmas, you know what she's like.” Lucy chuckled.

Alexia sighed, nodding her head. “Yeah, a child.” 

Ona stood up to greet Mapi but the girl pushed past her, ignoring her friend completely and aiming for the 6 month old baby girl.

Ingrid shook her head as she hugged Ona, Alexia came straight after.

“Drinks?” Lucy asked as she opened the fridge.

“Si, Lucy. Mapi you can't hog her the whole day. You had her all day last week. You always do it!” Alexia groaned as she tried to take the chubby baby from Mapis arms. 

Ingrid watched as Mapi ran from her blonde friend. The bumberling baby laughed as she was jostled about. 

“I know that look.” Ona poked the raven haired girl. 

Ingrid's cheeks blushed pink.

“One day. But she's my baby for now.” Ingrid chuckled.

Alexia finally got hold of the curly headed baby, smiling as she cuddled her, but as soon as she held her she started to cry.

“No! See Mapi! This is what you do!” Alexia tried to bounce the baby to calm her down.

Lucy came next to Ona hugging her tightly. She chuckled at the sight before her.

“I love you, Ona.”

“I love you. Lucy.”

[pokechbi]

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

WHEWWIEEE this one’s a bit different than my usual ones. Hope you all enjoy! 💗

As always, EVERY single interaction is so so greatly appreciated!!

- (Obsessive/Psychotic) König x fem reader

- 18+ MDNI !!!

- CW: blood, SH

- Not my usual smut, pt 2 with more smut is otw!

💗💗

Maybe it was your eyes. Everyone always told you that your eyes were the most expressive part of you. Or maybe it was your hair. The way it hung loosely around your shoulders, sinuously curly and sticking to your forehead when you sweat. Or was it your body? The way your clothes fit snugly against your curves, accentuating the parts of yourself you tried hiding the most. You didn’t know what it was about you that captivated him so badly. That made him like you. That made him utterly infatuated with you. 

His failed attempts at subtlety rang through your mind at the end of your work days, your brain swirling with possibilities and hopeless, endless cycles of painful obsessions. His behavior was unhealthy. Obsessive. One of a stalker. But you found yourself thinking of him at night, your mind being your worst enemy. You knew he wasn’t right in the head. He wasn’t right at all. No one in his line of work could be. His hands were bathed in the blood of more men than you could ever comprehend. His mind was filled with constant thoughts of death, battle, fighting, killing. He was a beast of a man, physically and mentally incapable of compassion. In no way was he made for any kind of lasting relationship. And you knew that. Yet, as your fingers made their way between your legs at night, thoughts of him on the battlefield slashing, stabbing, shooting, strangling, penetrated your mind like a train in a tunnel too small. 

You’d see him at least twice a week in the infirmary. You’d stitched his mysterious wounds countless times, your flesh burning with every feathery brush of your hands against his skin. Like a snail to salt. You knew it was wrong. You knew as a mandated reporter, you were legally required to report any suspicion of self harm. But you didn’t. And you felt as if you were betraying your very existence to cater to the psychotic needs of the man who you knew had a few screws missing for your own selfish desires. He never spoke much. Just sat there, looming over your small frame, causing your breathing to heave and your hands to tremor. He made you tense. You made him tense. The palpable tension between you just a ticking time bomb, ready to impale any passersby with the sharp shrapnel of his infatuation with you. 

It seemed that every time he came to you, his wounds got worse. But they started small. Harmless. A gash in his porcelain flesh, just a few gauzes needed to stop the bleeding in order for it to heal itself. And as many times as you lied to yourself, thinking: maybe it was from training. Maybe he’d lost control of his knife, accidentally cutting himself or mishandling it. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew he had been purposely hurting himself. Just to see you. To you, it was charming. Fascinating. And it shouldn’t have been. Every cell in your body screamed for it not to get to you. But you saw his harming himself a certain kind of devotion to you. A showing of his ultimate loyalty to you, even though you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to each other outside of medical talk. 

He’d been acting this way for months now. Too afraid to approach you with his feelings directly, but not afraid to leave you with constant, subtle reminders of his existence. The smell of him left on the sheet of the hospital bed. The boot scuffs on the floor, yet to be mopped up by housekeeping.  The idea of him hurting himself just to come sit on the hard, too-small bed just to see you, conjured a feeling in you that made you nauseous. His behavior was sickening. It truly was. And you knew, with every visit how his wounds got worse, bloodier, deeper…it was only a matter of time. 

He sat on the bed, staring down at you through his sniper hood with his arms limp at his sides as you worked on them. His gaze burned a hole through your head, searing any incoming distracting thoughts with thoughts of him. What he must have looked like under that mask. What his skin felt like. What kind of sounds he would make when he fucked. How dangerously big his cock was. And no matter how hard you fought those thoughts with every fiber of your being, the wetness between your legs was a telltale sign. He had you. He needed you. And like a moth to a lamp, you found yourself secretly chasing that high that plagued your senses every time he was near. 

Your mind was hyper aware of his every move, every breath. The tension in the room constricts you, making you feel as if the air thickened with his very presence. Your skin burned with every graze of his, the hairs on your arms standing to attention. Before you even made it into the room, you knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking your every step until you made it into the room with him. And before you entered, the fuzz on your neck stood erect. Your gut sensing danger, a predator with nothing but sexually malicious intent awaiting your arrival. 

This was your last straw. There had to be a way for this to end. For the never ending silent fight, the vicious cycle of wanting him, hating him, being disgusted by him, being turned on by his very stance. You were almost done stitching him, your gloves bathed in his dark, thick blood. He never so much as winced as you secured the sutures, dabbing the wound with disinfectant. You rolled back in your chair, tossing your gloves onto the rolling metal tray beside you. And as always, he hopped off the bed, looming over you with a steady foot and a half above you as you briefed him on how to clean his wound. But before he could hastily make his way back to his quarters to do God knows what, you absentmindedly grabbed his bicep. He tensed under your touch, never turning to meet your face. Your throat dries painfully as you try to speak, your delicate hands and freshly done nails begging to dig themselves into his scarred skin as he fucked you in a frenzy of predatory sexual hunger. 

“König.” You manage to release. Your voice was practically a squeak, making you feel smaller under him than you already were. As if you needed to feed into his nauseating predatorial instinct even more. You cleared your throat, approaching him. With every step you took, his presence sucked away each and every atom of oxygen from you. A pitiless, dangerous black hole that threatened to drain the life from you with its bare hands. 

“What are you doing to yourself?” You ask, your voice breaking and cracking. You hated showing him that you were weak. That you were ready to be pounced at, mercilessly eviscerated. And in all honesty, you liked that you were. It was shameful. The way he stood, unspeaking and nauseatingly smug at your worry made you want to drop to your knees and get yourself off on his boots while he watched you shamefully. You wanted him to humiliate you. To degrade every ounce of dignity in you and then more. 

“I know this isn’t from training, sir.” You say, running your thumb gently over his fresh sutures. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth and tongue suddenly dry and coarse. You pressed into the matter further, just wanting to beat at his chest until he spoke. Hating him for forcing you to care about him. You were done with this game. The cat and mouse facade that masked the filthy desires swirling between the two of you. He turned to face you slowly, craning your neck to look at his eyes. The egoistic smile in his eyes, the one he made no effort to hide behind his mask. 

“Little maus…” Although his voice was gentle, it still boomed through your eardrums. His German accent wet and thick on his tongue. You keep your grip on his arm, as if the feeling of your skin against his would keep your feet on the ground. “Can’t you see? I do it for you.” He lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to graze your cheek. “I bleed for you, schatz.” He stepped closer to you, speaking as if it were completely obvious that he sliced himself, made himself gush impossible amounts, just for you. And a part of you always knew. You were always aware, always aware how it turned you on that such a man would do such things for a woman like you. 

He looked down at his arm, your grip tightening and fingertips pressing into his stitches. He lets out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as you absentmindedly dug your fingers into his gash. You stared at him, dumbfounded. You feel warmth pool under your fingertips, glancing down at his now bleeding flesh. 

“Fuck! I-I’m so sorry. Let me get some-”

“Harder.” He reaches forward hastily, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your lips hang agape, your face growing hot and your breathing growing heavier. He pulls at your arm, bringing you towards him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, threatening to crush you in its walls. The concept of what he wanted you to do made you woozy, your stomach queasy with disgust. But a deep part of you was fascinated by it, a sleeping beauty kissed awake by the nauseatingly beautiful devotion he showed to you. To want to please you. To show you how ready he was to drop dead. Just for you. Even if it were by the woman he loved most. 

You stare between his eyes, noticing how his gaze grew softer as you pressed your fingers into his bleeding flesh. He cried out, a disgusting mixture of pain and pleasure lacing his moans. You stepped closer to him, ignoring the feeling of his hot blood trickling down your wrist. You move your thumb around his stitches as you approach his chest, slowly running your hands up his muscles. You stopped below the hem of his mask, twirling it in your fingers. His hand shot up to your wrist, squeezing it with a force you could only describe as starved. Without words, he moves your hand to his stomach. You feel the muscles under his shirt flex as he guides your hand down his abdomen. You don’t think before you do it, but nothing in that moment could’ve stopped you from giving him exactly what he needed. He bled for you. Sliced himself wide open for you. He showed his devotion for you the only way he knew how. By shedding his own blood. Just for you. 

You work on his belt buckle, the warm blood weeping from his arm now trickling down to your elbow. As you got his pants open, you noticed it. He was already hard. Practically throbbing for your touch. His breathing grew strained, his head dipping down. You felt a smile twitch on your lips. The world around you seemed to be gone, and it was only you and him in this distasteful moment. You, him, his twitching cock and his bleeding arm.  As you took the tip of him into your hand, the warmth of his blood grew hotter as you pressed your thumb deeper into the gash. You stroke him, while simultaneously pushing your thumb forward, eliciting the pained and pleasured moans from the gigantic man before you. 

You see him look down, your small hands seeming smaller in comparison to the length and thickness of his dick. He reaches an ungloved hand towards yours, wrapping his large hand over yours. He guides your strokes, the combined warmth of his length and blood traveling through your body and settling in your core. He continued using your hand to jerk himself as his body twitched and slumped, knees bending slightly. You smile, no longer trying to fight the disgusting feelings that plagued your mind. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. But you did. The nausea that rose from your stomach only fueled you more, squeezing his cock harder as he continued stroking himself with your hand. 

“Harder, my love. Bitte, ich mache alles. Mach es härter.” (Please, I’ll do anything. Do it harder.) He breathed, his body jerking with painful bliss. You do as he asked, pressing your thumb into his weeping flesh harder. You weren’t concerned how much he was bleeding now, only getting him to come. This was an irreversible, irresponsible decision. You crossed a line with him, and a deep part of you knew. You fought the looming dread that threatened to ruin the moment. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And in some twisted, cruel way, you didn’t mind. It was dangerous. It was far beyond recovery. There was no way in hell he was letting you go without dying first. And your newfound sick, twisted desires catered to his very agenda. 

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…” His hand painfully squeezed yours, your fingers incapable of moving under his grip. You felt his cock twitch as you continued digging your thumb into his wound, the warmth of his blood bathing one hand, while the heat of his hot cum wetly coated the other. He lets out a string of moans and whines, his grip weakening over your hand. He breathes heavily into the air, your thumb releasing from his flesh. You let go of his cock, both your hands coated in the liquids that came from his soul. In some gruesome, macabre way, you enjoyed it. Loved it, even. The newfound feelings swirled through your mind and made your lips curl into absentminded grin. 

The sound of his belt buckle seemed to bring you back down to earth, causing you to rush to the sink and throw the faucet on. You washed your hands, looking down at your arm, now coated in blood. All of your feelings hit you all at once, feeling a strong nausea bubble in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were heaving into the sink, your knees wobbly and threatening to give out under you. You didn’t know why you threw up. You’d seen all kinds of gore, been covered in blood countless times. But this was something else. Something damaging. The looming dread growing darker over your head. You hear König shuffle, approaching you from behind. You feel his large hand caress your back, a soft gesture that did nothing to comfort you from the cold, dark things you’d just done. 

“I’m afraid I’ll need some new stitches, dear.” He says, a smile evident in his voice. You nodded your head, feeling airy as you stood up from the sink. You didn’t know what you would do now, the clarity hitting you like a truck. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. You sat him down again, resuturing his wound. 

“This cannot happen again, König.” You say sternly, hastily finishing his stitches and cleaning his arm with disinfectant. You stand from your chair, hands on your hips as you pace the room. He stood from the bed, walking over to you. Before you could squeak another word out, his hands were cupping both of your cheeks, your neck craning up to meet his gaze. 

“It can…and it will, schatz.” He says, a soft tremor in his voice. And in an effort to combat your fears of him, he swiftly throws the mask off of his head, hishelmet clattering to the floor. You look at him, lips parted. His strong jaw was lined with a dirty blonde stubble, his lips perfectly shaped balanced with the rest of his face. His nose sat crookedly between his eyes, permanently misshapen from breaking it so many times. His eyes, strong and grey, bored into your soul as if he was looking into every possible detail there was to know about you. He dipped his head down, pulling your face towards his as he crashed his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as he forces you to keep your lips stuck to his. 

He parts from the kiss, looking between your eyes with a deceivingly soft gaze. He leaves you in a stupor as he bends to pick his mask up off the floor, slipping his helmet on over his head. You stand dumbfounded, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to handle your newfound feelings. 

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

[sportswriters]

dating a rival - j. swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x reader | suggestive, a bit smutty | established relationship | wc: 729 | warnings: swearing, dirty talking, sub!jeremy | 🖊: namu

welcome post!

dating a rival wasn’t easy. when you had to move from north carolina to boston for a job opportunity, being present as a carolina hurricanes fan became impossible. you cheered from the comfort of your home, missing the energy that only raleigh could build at the pnc arena. game day. you were split between your home team and your boyfriend’s performance. the hardest thing to deal was that jeremy couldn’t help being a fucking great goalie. the bruins weren't doing that well, but jeremy blocked every single shot from the opponent. frustrated groans left your mouth the whole game. no water, no pacing around, no hair grabbing were enough to calm you down.

“fuck. jer, why do you have to be so good?” you muttered, answering yourself seconds after, “yeah, that’s what caught my attention in the first place. fuck.”

he texted you as soon as he finished his interview, so you called him.

“hi, baby! congrats on the win, i’m so proud of you for dealing with the canes all by yourself!”

he laughed, knowing how pissed off you probably were for the loss.

“thank you, love. how are you feeling? don’t pretend to be only happy for me.”

“it was a great game, i’m proud of my other goalie too, okay?” you sighed. “you should come over, i’m gonna get us some food. it’s gonna be delivery, though. i have no brain cells left to cook.”

“no plans on poisoning my food?” he joked.

“i have some plans for you, but none of them are deadly.” you bit your lip, trying to contain yourself. lowering your voice, almost as a whisper, you said:  “come over.”

jeremy froze on the other side of the line.

“okay. be there soon.”

after dinner, you talked about the game from two different perspectives. it was chill, a moment to catch up as a couple, some laughs and all of that. but deep inside jeremy couldn’t stop thinking about the real reason you’d invited him over. couldn’t stop thinking of having you all over him tonight after this win.

“i can see your thoughts working, jer. do you want to say something else?”

“i was wondering if you, hum, if you had something other than dinner in mind.”

you tilted your head, faking a confusion jeremy didn’t notice because of how nervous he was.

“well, in fact, i was thinking of congratulating you. but i didn’t want to jump right into it.”

jeremy nodded.

“do you want that right now?”

he was trying to put himself together, finding it hard to do such a thing when your eagle eyes were watching him like that.

“tell me what you had in mind.”

you got up from your cuddling position to sit on his lap. with a soft caress on his bearded cheek, you said: “i’m really proud of you. i’m proud of how fucking great you were out there.” you gave him a peck, his eyes didn’t lose focus once. “so, this is how it’s going to be… i’m going to give you everything you deserve, you’ll decide what it is. i’ll give you everything you want, jer, because you worked for it.”

you adjusted yourself on his lap, getting a helpless moan from him. he was gone already.

“i need you to tell me what you want, baby, i need your words.” your voice turned into a whisper as you got close to his ear, leaving soft kisses on the side of his neck. “want me to start by sucking your cock? let you go all the way down my throat? or do you want me to slide over it right now? i could let you come inside, you know? i think it’s a proper special occasion.”

you could feel him hardening. all the talking with soft kisses were leaving his mind blurred.

“jer, i need your words. this time it should be all about you, then in my turn i would get what i deserve. don’t you think that’s fair enough?” you grabbed his chin, facing his fucked up expression.

you waited for his response, noticing his every move. it was fun to have him like this once in a while, you were going to enjoy every step of the long way.

“please, just… just kiss me and we’ll go from there, okay?” he gulped. “just fucking kiss me right now.”