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teastyun · 7 months ago

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༻ pound town

arcane sevika x female reader (nsfw)

a/n: i'm going to war (exam phase is about to start), therefore i must make haste (my hiatus starts again). also, i got a new job so i'm not sure when my hiatus will end :(

pt. 1 ; masterlist

grabbing the broom from the back of your mechanics shop, you start you usual closing routine as the streets of Zaun more active as the day ends. growing up in Zaun, you appreciate the livelihood of the people, but grew wary of the criminality rising abruptly at the end of each day. enforcers started to patrol the quiet streets of Zaun and hang up missing posters of Jinx, who you've been visited by for several occasions over the last few months for tech equipment she required. you grew fond of the girl and would occasionally even slip a few extra pieces, and she would thank you proudly by telling you about her latest new technological improvements.

one time, she told you about a prosthesis as her newest invention. Sevika immediately came to your mind and the way she held your cheek the last and first time you saw her. or the way her bionic arm held your hips so strongly as you rode her strap. shit, you really are down bad for this woman who doesn't even know your name.

as several months gone by since then, you managed to gather your savings and invest it into your shop for new techs and products to sell. you were finally able to call your shop your full time job and scrap your shifts at the brothel completely. Sevika didn't only save your shop, but she saved you from drowning in exhaustion as the only thing you ever did was work day and night.

you hoped to see her again, but your hope was slowly scarped as each month passed by.

after sweeping the last corner of your shop, you only had to rearrange your products before you could finally leave to go home. as you tidied the screws collection, the door to your shop opened audibly by your crystals dangling from the person entering.

"we're closed-" you start, but stop as you see the person at the entrance.

there she was, standing in her usual cloak and a hood that hid her face, but you recognised her nonetheless. she took her hood off with a smile as she looked at you. "good to see you again."

suddenly, you felt naked again. although she knew your identity (prolly even the whole time), the mask would hide your facial expressions and reactions. now, you are standing there with a shocked impression written on your face, unsure of how to react to the person that is the reason for your shop to still be alive.

"i see you created something out of this shop since the last time I've seen you," she speaks with a soft smile on her lips as she takes a look around in your shop. "thank you. you were actually a huge help last time we've seen each other," you respond, your hands linked together behind your back as you turn to look around your shop.

honestly, your shop is quite shady from outside with its half-broken broken neon sign spelling the name mechs n' treasures. but once you enter, you quickly realise that it's a one man's business by it's intricate appearance. it has so much personality now that you have as much time as you'd like to spent in it, decorating it with your favourite things you've collected over the years that weren't too precious to be displayed in your small flat above your shop. a few colourful crystals dangle around your entrance and the door to your flat, reflecting the neon lights from the streets of Zaun onto the mechanic pieces you sell. tidiness is your top priority, since it's hard to keep such an old shop neat and clean. you love your old and shady, but precious personal shop and wouldn't wish it to be any different. business seemed to be booming recently, too. you had no idea why, but Zaun is a quick and fast learning city with its advantages and disadvantages, resulting in people visiting your shop to buy the pieces they require for their newest project.

now, Sevika is standing in the centre of your shop, taking one of the mechanical pieces into her hands and looking at it in detail.

"can i help you with something?" you ask, looking at her with curiosity. after she puts the mechanic piece back into its tray, she says "I was hoping you could me out with this."

she reveals her bionic arm, where you see the its shimmer capsules completely shattered. surprised, you walk towards her and take her bionic arm into her hand to have a closer look. you inhale her smoky scent and suddenly were confronted with a vivid memory of the first night you guys met at the brothel, as you sat in her lap writhing under her touch. focus. you twisted a few pieces to inspect the reachability of the broken capsules. "I assume you won't be able to take it off?" you ask her, your eyes still fixed on an odd piece you've found.

she shakes her head, "it would be a hazard trying to put it on afterwards. do you think you'll still manage to repair, though?"

after twisting the last few pieces for inspection, you leave her arm. "shouldn't be no issue," you take a look at your wristwatch and notice how late it already is. a few extra minutes won't hurt, you decide.

you nod towards the counter, "take a seat, i'll be right with you."

entering the back of your shop and take a big breath. fuck, this intimidating woman still effects you after several months. at this point, you were sure you even forgot about her.

you grab your toolbox and head to Sevika, who is waiting for you behind your counter on a chair. her cloak is thrown over your register's desk, revealing a similar outfit you saw at the brothel. only now you realise how muscular this woman actually is. her arm is almost fully exposed by her sleeveless top and a choker around her neck makes you shake off your dirty thoughts.

you place the toolbox on the counter before you take a seat next to it. Sevika watches every move of yours, making you even more nervous than you already are.

grabbing your first tool, you lay her arm in you lap and start unscrewing the plates that cover the isolation of the shimmer capsules. her arm felt heavy, but oddly warm in your lap for the fact that it's broken. you remember how the same arm pinned you down on her strap a few months ago.

your brain is almost about to malfunction if Sevika wouldn't have interrupted your thoughts, "so, how is your shop going?" she asks as she leans the side of her upper body on the counter. when you look down at her, she's only mere centimetres away from your face. her grey eyes digging into yours. your pussy clenches as your breathing stops at the sight of her. you quickly look away and focus on her arm again. "it's going well," you start and grab for another tool to remove the shattered pipes. "sometimes it's exhausting to handle a shop alone, but you get used to it, you know."

her eyes follow your movements on her arm while she hums as an indication for you to continue. "once, a dude i recognised from the brothel came to pick up a few things and i couldn't help but wonder what his day job is. he was a sex worker as well, so he probably even recognised me," you tell her. it's unusual for you to share thoughts and memories of your old job. you weren't ashamed of it, but you much happier spending your time in your own shop and not thinking back to your old routine.

she shifts in her seat to look up at you, "i'm glad you were able to escape that shit hole, beautiful," she says quietly, careful of the words she chooses, "do you still remember that night?"

your movements halt immediately at her questions and you felt her eyes laying heavily on you, watching every single movement. the way you took a deep breath, trying not to appear nervous around her. the mere thought of that night made you feel butterflies in your stomach and wetness in your core.

"i do," you confess. without meeting her eyes, you continue your maintenance on her bionic arm in your lap, trying to suppress the urge of jumping into her lap and kissing her senseless. "do you?" you ask in almost a whisper, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer.

when she didn't, your eyes travelled to hers in question. she seemed to be in deep thoughts as well before she asked "how couldn't i?"

her eyes finally meet yours and you recognise such sincerity and trust in them, you couldn't help the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips.

"you were the only thing on my mind in this cruel world," she continues, making you feel several things at once. "and i don't even know your name."

you chuckled and referred your eyes back to your almost finished work, concentrating on exchanging the pipes.

"so, you're not even going to tell me?" she asks amused.

"what, my name?" you act oblivious, knowing exactly what she wanted. now it was her turn to chuckle at your teasing. "you can be a pain in the ass, you know that?"

you shake your head in disbelief with a smile on your lips as you screw on the last iron plate on her arm.

"move it," you command and she obliges. she moves her joints, making the shimmer that was left in her tank fuel her new pipe, while moving it a few more times in several directions. you've never seen machinery working with shimmer so closely. you wonder how the metal felt like against your skin.

ripping you out of your trance, she stands up. right in front you, almost between your legs, which you desperately wanted to close at the sight as you felt your pussy clench.

"thank you," she looks at you, her eyes wandering from your neck down to the rest of your body. it's like she can't help herself, checking you out as you sit on her cloak next to your work instruments.

"you even look beautiful in your casual attire," she whispers as her eyes meet yours again.

"so," you wrap your index finger through her choker, "how about taking it off and see what's hidden underneath?" you cock your head before you pull her closer. your legs are opened by her thighs between them as she looks down at you, clearly surprised by your boldness. "i don't fuck nameless girls," she says in an equal tone to her low chuckle.

you take a quick look at her lips, wondering what they would feel like on yours. "didn't seem so last time we've seen each other."

your finger is still wrapped around her chocker as you grin. she didn't answer. she knows you're messing with her.

she places her arms on each of your sides, the sounds of her bionic arm moving leaving a shudder throughout your body. she's dangerously close.

"if i remember correctly, last time you've fucked yourself, princess."

shocked by her comment, your grin fades as you suddenly remember how you rode her in that brothel, eagerly chasing your orgasm as she guided you through it.

you let go of her choker and rest your hand at the back of her neck instead, caressing the soft strands of brunette hair as you try to maintain yourself.

"y/n," you whisper. Sevika's eyes widen at first, but a slight grin sets on her lips at the sound of your name.

"beautiful name, princess," she whispers back and you feel her breath on your lips with each sound she speaks.

you close your eyes as you feel her full lips grazing yours. "y/n," she whispers repeatedly. her lips finally touch yours, first cautiously but confident after a few seconds of lingering. you copy her motions and gasp when her tongue grazes your lower lip.

pressing her more firmly against yourself, you part your lips for her tongue to enter. she faintly tastes like cigarettes, but more of a harsh liquor you can't really pinpoint. your arms cling desperately around her neck, feeling her torso pressed around yours in your heated kiss. you lock her against your core with your legs around her hips, moaning as she leaves your lips to leave kisses on your neck. "you have no idea how often i thought of kissing you," she whispers before she trails down kisses to your exposed shoulder and collarbone, licking the line of it and pressing soft bites against your sweet spots.

instead of responding, you pull her up again and lock your lips together. you press your lower body against her in search of the friction you desperately seek, but with no success. her lips form into a smirk against your lips as she realises what you're seeking.

frustrated, you separate yourself from her and motion for her to step aside, so you could jump of the counter. "i have a bed upstairs," you tell her. Sevika stands there confused, but god does she look hot. her lips are glazed from your spit and her hair looks slightly tousled from your hand that clung to it.

she doesn't let you move, though. instead, her hands are pressed firmly on your side as she still stand between your legs. "i thought that might be more comfortable..." you say, unsure of the current situation. she shifts in her stance to let you stand up.

"fuck, yes. i mean, yes, let's go upstairs," she chuckles after stumbling over her own words and her bionic arm moves to gesture you to lead the way. you laugh at her sudden awkwardness but go ahead to lock up your shop.

walking up the stairs, you fumble for your home's keys. Sevika followed you closely behind, touching your waist and kissing your neck as you try to unlock the door, a sigh escapes your lips as you try to unlock your door.

as the door closes behind you, she pins you against it. her hand holds your wrist against the door as she kisses you feverishly. her bionic arm slips beneath your ass to lift you up, so you could wrap your legs around her hips. you press your breasts against her, trying to seek for any further touches. "the bed, Sev," you say between kisses, too occupied to actually resist her touch.

she ignores your words and losses her grip on your wrists instead to wander to the buttons of your shirt, never breaking the kiss. "patience, beautiful," she whispers as her lips leave yours to press a kiss on your cheek. "we have all night, right?"

your arms find their way back around her neck, playing with her loose hair. "please," you respond, your eyes making contact with hers. you peck her lips before you say, "i want to touch you, too."

her head falls onto your shoulder as she groans, "you make me loose my composure so easily," before looking back into your eyes with need and desperation "do you realise that?"

you grin at her confession and kiss her hot and wet, moaning into the kiss as she continues to unbutton your shirt until your bra is exposed to her hand. she grazes the outlines with her fingertips, making a shudder run through your body as you gasp. you press your chest into her touch and she gladly responds with cupping your breast while biting your lower lip.

her index finger grazes your puffy nipple through your bra and you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

she pecks you one last time with a smile, before looking around your small flat, seemingly inspecting your small setup where your bedroom and living room are combined to your cozy grove.

her hand moves to your back, stabilising you in her arms before she finally heads to your bed to lay you down on it, watching you as you lay there with your undone shirt and the few strands that escaped your hairstyle completely wordless.

similar to her, you exhale at the sight in front of you. Sevika is still fully clothed, so you pull her down by her collar to kiss her hard, wrapping your legs around her waist to pull her body on top of you. "take this off," she whispers against your lips, her bionic hand gripping your shirt as her hand sneaks behind your neck to tilt your head for her to suck.

she kisses and bites your sweet spot, disrupting your motion of pulling your shirt off and making your eyes roll back in pleasure. you moan her name in frustration before she finally let's go.

"this too," she tells you as she eyes every little detail on your torso. when you take your bra off, her bionic hand cups your breast. the sharp and cold details of her metallic hand exposed on one of your most sensitive parts of your body leave you breathing hard, moaning as her pointy fingers pinch and twist your nipple. "you have no idea how often i thought of touching them since that night," her eyes are not leaving your chest as she confesses.

"you could've touched them that night," you respond, your hand finding the back of her head as you play with her small ponytail. after hearing your words she looks at you, almost with a shocked expression on her face. "there's no way i would have touched you without your consent," she tells you. surprised by this sudden turn, you move up to rest your weight on your elbows, looking at her in disbelief. "but you payed for that night with me," you state, still confused by what she just said.

she's just as surprised as you, cupping your cheek softly as she spoke, "y/n, i would never do anything to you without your consent. do you know that?" she asks you, her eyes never leaving yours as she spoke. you've never experienced any sex partner expressing their respect to you verbally. and fuck, this is probably the moment you realise you have feelings for this woman in front of you. you nod in response, still overwhelmed from your thoughts and feelings. she smiles at you as she says, "good girl."

your soaking pussy almost purred at that nickname. kissing her quick but softly, you grind your clothed hips against hers as you kiss a trail down her neck to her exposed collarbone.

she exhales heavily at your motions before saying, "tell me what you want, beautiful."

"i want you to fuck me," you respond after hesitating, still nibbling at her collarbone as a soft moan escapes her.

"with this," you continue as you grind stronger onto her clothed cunt than before.

her bionic arm holds herself on the bed as her fingers trace your curves. "with my fingers?" she teases as she opens your trousers with her other hand slowly.

your lips move up to her ear, licking and biting her soft skin. "no," you whisper, "with this."

you press the seam of her jeans with your fingers against her clit, making her grip your hips hard from your sudden touch. "fuck," she mutters in response, clearly trying to compose herself before she continues to fully undress you.

"under one condition," she starts as she takes in your naked body with hungry eyes, "i'll have a taste before i fuck you," she unbuttons her shirt, revealing a dark bandeau bra beneath. she's in a hurry, so she won't bother to take off her unbuttoned shirt, but moves on by removing her jeans as well as underwear in one go.

you try to take a peek at her body, but she immediately kneels between your legs to kiss the soft skin of your thighs, dragging her motions slowly to your soaking pussy as her hands hold you firm beneath her touch. feeling her breath on your clit, you whine from sensitivity, gripping the sheets beneath you as she finally tastes you for the first time.

both of you moan from the touch, your hips stutter beneath her strong hands. she eats you out like a starving woman, humming at the sounds you're making. your clit is circled by her tongue as she softly bites and sucks before your legs start shaking from the pleasure that builds up in your lower belly.

she moves her arm from your thigh to press softly against it, realising how close you are. "come on my tongue," she tells you, intensifying her motions as you come hard. the way you moan her name sounds similar to a scream, your thighs pressing against her head as you throw your head back in pleasure.

she gently guides you through it by licking in decreasing motions, careful of your sensitivity. as your calming down, she kisses your clit one last time before she straightens herself to watch you after your first high.

her lips and chin are glistening from her pussy and strands that were originally framing her face now hang loosely. "you did so well, beautiful," she whispers, climbing on top of you to press kisses into your face. "fuck, you really sent me to another dimension," you confess, laughing a litte at the absurdity. she chuckles at your words, grinning as she examines your face.

"are you still down for another round?" she asks carefully, giving you the space you might need, but you nod as you smile at her. she kisses you before she straightens again to manhandle your legs, placing one on her shoulder as she moves her own over your other to align with your pussy, not starting just yet. she caresses the long on her shoulder as she presses kisses along with it.

she looks absolutely breathtaking while doing it. you feel her pussy kissing yours, and fuck, she's driving you crazy. the unbuttoned shirt exposes the abs you eyed earlier through the tightness of her shirt. her v-line is deeply defined, even more when she starts to slowly grind against you. her pointy bionic fingers suddenly press into your thigh as she gasps from the pleasure she suddenly receives. her grey eyes watch you heavily, making sure you're alright with her pace as she slowly picks it up.

"you feel so good," you whimper as you meet her motions by copying hers, crying from the sensitivity from your earlier orgasm. "fuck- i'm close again."

she grins at your confession, pushing herself harder on your clit as you cry out from the friction. she's mostly quiet, but a gasp escapes her lips anytime you improve your speed.

"come with me, y/n" she leans down, kissing you with so much passion as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. you moan into the kiss, your breasts moving with each thrust as your nipples graze against the cotton of her bandeau. you felt your orgasm creeping, but you weren't ready for the intensity it comes with. you cry out against her lips, holding her against you as you feel her groaning from her own orgasm. both your hips stutter in your motions before you stop to look at her.

her head rests in the nape of your neck and the only thing you feel is her hot breath against your skin. as you untangle your legs, you kiss on the side of her head. "are you alright?" you ask after several seconds of silence.

she vaguely nods, still maintaining her breath before she answers "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

you smile as you caress her hair through your fingers. "i'd love to figure it out in the future," you continue, making space between your faces so you could look at her as you speak. "this idea you've just mentioned," you clarify as she looks at you speechless.

she kisses you passionately after a few seconds, smiling as she realises what you were suggesting.

"let me take you to dinner after your shift tomorrow?" she asks as her thumb trails your cheekbone. you nod, kissing her on the cheeks before you answer "gladly."

you both fall asleep, and sooner or later date nights with Sevika become your favourite traditions as you two engage in a passionate, but intimate relationship with each other.

tags: @sevsbaby @womenathleteshaveme @macaroni676

masterlist

#➶ jules' anthology #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane x reader #sevika smut #sevika imagine #wlw #queer #lesbian #sapphic #Spotify

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celestie0 · 5 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

nav. masterlist

“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it.

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home.

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide.

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child.

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing.

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses.

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation.

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed.

Sana’s room, you think to yourself.

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own.

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too.

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end.

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought.

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side.

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was.

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger.

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too.

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005.

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture?

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room.

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful.

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see.

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.”

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face.

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you.

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual.

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.”

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her.

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties.

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in.

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair.

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand.

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak.

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away.

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use.

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you.

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up.

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.”

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch.

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges.

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge.

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him.

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way?

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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bbyleiah · 1 year ago

Text

daze.

| reader is new in town and goes around with her bestfriend. She meets Onyankopon who is entranced by her at first sight and is set on making her his. |

cw : strangers to lovers. dom! Ony, fem! sub shy awkward reader, reader is black, doggy style, anal play (ony eats her ass), oral sex (f receiving), spit, fluids, dirty talk, teasing, pet names (mamas, princess, lil ‘ma, etc.), praise, biting, pussy slapping, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, cock drunk reader, slight pussy drunk ony, overstimulation, crying, pwp.

word count : hella long bc there’s lots of plot 🥹

sn : wrote this for fun, hopefully y’all will enjoy it 💞

You had been away for college for a long while but now that you graduated with your masters degree and had a break, you came to visit your best friend. You were hesitant about being in a new environment again but you were excited to see your bestfriend because it had been so long since the two of you spent time together.

The two of you were polar opposites, her being loud and charismatic, feisty and unafraid to show off her rambunctious personality. You on the other hand were shy, mostly quiet and meek, only getting out of your shell when you were comfortable with people. You guys suited each other perfectly though, the true definition of opposites attracting.

You squinted your eyes, your car now in a slow stroll along the street as you searched for your friend’s address. You perked up once you found it, pulling into her driveway and parking. Excitement built up inside you as you hopped out the car and approached her front door. You knocked a little too eagerly but you couldn’t help yourself. Nao was excited as well, rushing to open the door and hug you.

You both squealed as you hugged dramatically and spun a bit. “Bitch I missed your ass so much! Oh my god I have so much tea for you!” Nao exclaimed excitedly. You giggled, “I missed you so much too. You always have something going on. I can’t wait to hear all about it though.” You smiled at her. “ugh, my baby is back with me.” Nao sighed dramatically before she kissed your cheeks. You loved the affection, Nao always giving motherly vibes.

Nao helped you get your bags from your car and she didn’t waste any time to start ranting to you as you two began to unpack your things in her guest room. “—He really tried to play in my face like I’m one of his lil hoes. Can’t stand these niggas out here. He keep tryna blow up my phone but I’m ignoring his ass.” Nao expressed while shaking her head. You just took in the info, laughing a little. “Which one was this? Eren?” You asked, trying to keep up.

“Nah, Eren my baby boy. I’m talking about Connie hoe ass. Connie mad now because him and Eren homeboys. I don’t give a fuck though.” Nao said honestly with a cackle. “Oh my god, that’s so messy. I support though. As you should!” You encouraged with a laugh. “What about you though sis? Any dude try to pull up on you at college?” Nao asked.

“Nope. Well I guess some tried but they were all weirdos, I wasn’t interested. Plus you know I need someone who will take care of me.” You said honestly with a hum. “Girl, you need to put yourself out there more. You’re a bad bitch, I’m sure guys will drool over you. You’re just too picky.” She said while shaking her head in disapproval. “I could put you on.” She suggested as she perked up.

“No, no. I refuse to be put on with one of those guys you hang around. You know that’s not my vibe.” You refused immediately. “Ugh, come on! Just give it a chance!. We could literally pull up at Connie’s crib, everyone be over there.” She persuaded with a pout as she pulled on your arm. “Eh, the guys you hang with wouldn’t even be interested in me.” You sighed.

“You don’t know that!. Just come with me, please? Pretty please? Cherry on top? Love and adore you forever?” She begged as she laid her head on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, laughing “alright, I’ll come. But! I’m not getting put on with no one.” You clarified. “Yay! So exciting!” She cheered in victory. “Isn’t it gonna be awkward for you to be at Connie’s house though?” You asked once you realized.

“Eh, he don’t mind. He too obsessed with me to leave me alone.” She confidently said with a shrug, you laughed. “Y’all are a mess. That’s exactly why I will not partake in that kind of relationship.” You stated. “You will when you find some good dick.” She blurted causing you to gasp and hit her with a pillow, she burst out laughing at your reaction. It was nice spending time with Nao again, the two of you spent the rest of the night catching up and enjoying each other’s company.

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

You were dreading this gathering now, you hated meeting people. You had Nao by your side though so you figured it wouldn’t be so bad. Nao looked sexy as fuck, dressed in a red corset top, a black jean skirt, and some ‘university red’ dunks with her crinkle curl black lace front, gold jewelry to compliment the outfit.

You differed in style, dressed in a lacy white tank top with a white cardigan, you wore a pink skirt with white leg warmers and pink converse, your hair was in a half up half down look and you had on hoop earrings with a little charm bracelet. “You look so adorbs!” Nao gushed over you. You blushed, “thanks, you look so good. They’re gonna drool over you forreal.” You complimented with a giggle.

“That’s the goal.” She sassily said as she flipped her hair. The two of you walked up to what was apparently Connie’s house and Nao didn’t even bother to knock, just walking on in like she owned the place. Luckily for you it wasn’t overly crowded, just a couple people hanging around. It appeared this house was a true hang out spot. “Yoo, losers. The baddest bitch has arrived.” Nao greeted theatrically.

Everyone greeted her too, she was clearly comfy with everyone here, you just followed behind her like a clueless puppy only uttering ‘hi’s’ and ‘nice to meet you’s’ whenever Nao introduced you to people. Unbeknownst to you, someone had taken a particular interest in you. “Yo, who’s lil mama?” Ony asked Jean as they stood together sharing a blunt. “Uh don’t know but she came with Nao. They’re homegirls” Jean shrugged.

“Mm.” Ony hummed in response to the information, still observing you with his low slightly red eyes. “What? You tryna hit that?” Jean asked with a laugh. “Nah, just curious.” Ony dismissed. It was rare to see a cute thing like you around so it intrigued Ony, he didn’t typically go for girls like you but he wouldn’t mind taking his chances. You caught his stare when you began to mindlessly look around, it caught you off guard seeing the male staring at you so intensely.

It also confused you a bit, you didn’t understand why he was looking at you. You unconsciously pouted a bit and tilted your head as you tried to think of what the reason could be. Ony felt his heart swoon a little at the adorable sight, you were just too cute. “Lying ass. You definitely wanna tap that.” Jean laughed as he peeped the scene. “Shut your ass up.” Ony snapped.

“Is there something on my face?” You asked Nao. She looked at you confused, “No, why do you think that?” She asked as she thoroughly inspected your face. “Because some guy was staring at me so I wanted to make sure. That would’ve been embarrassing.” You said in slight relief. “Which guy?!” She perked up, eager to find out. You subtly pointed to him, standing against the wall with some other guy.

He was dressed in black cargo pants and a white tee, a black durag on his head with some white forces on his feet. He had little diamond stud earrings in his ears and a silver chain around his neck. He had a tattoo on one of his hands and one on his collarbone. “Oo! That’s Ony! Girl that is crazy! Ony doesn’t get interested in many girls. You should go speak!” Nao excitedly encouraged.

You sheepishly shook your head, “Noo, you know I hate approaching people.” You said as you played with your sweater paws. “I know but you need to put yourself out there!. You want me to call him over?” She offered. Your eyes went wide, frantically shaking your head, not liking that idea at all. Nao sighed, “Well I’m not gonna put you in an uncomfortable position but I really think you should feel him out.” She hummed. You chewed on your lip, debating it as you glanced at him.

He was definitely attractive but he seemed way out of your league. You wouldn’t even know how to handle a guy like him. This time he was the one who caught you staring, blowing smoke from his mouth after taking a hit from a blunt. You immediately looked away, flustered that he caught you looking at him. Ony smirked at your shy reaction, “she’s too damn cute.” He mumbled to himself. “Bro just go over and talk to her at this point instead of drooling, damn.” Jean said, annoyed.

Ony rolled his eyes, elbowing Jean in the side before he actually did take the initiative and walked up to you. You didn’t even notice him approaching, turned towards Nao and focused on what she was currently chatting about. Ony cleared his throat once he stood behind you, instantly gaining your attention as you whipped around to see who it was. “What’s up little ‘ma.” Ony greeted once he had your attention. You stared at up him like a deer in headlights, “Uhm..hi~” you replied shyly.

Nao’s eyes flickered between the two of you knowingly with a mischievous grin on her face. She didn’t waste any time slipping away so that you and ony could talk privately. “You new around here?” Ony asked you, starting small talk as he took a sip from his red solo cup. “Yeah, I just got here the other day” You said as you began to nervously play with your hair, you knew you were probably being awkward but you sucked at conversation. Ony didn’t mind your shy awkward demeanor though, finding it adorable.

“Oh my bad, I’m onyankopon by the way but you can call me ony.” He introduced himself with a smile, allowing you to see the silver grill on the bottom row of his teeth. He was definitely not the type of guy to go for a girl like you. “Nice to meet you~” You said your usual textbook reply, smiling back at him politely. Ony fixated on your pretty smile, your little dimples appearing on your cheeks along with your glossy lips. In that moment he felt like he’d do whatever to keep that smile on your face.

“You close with Nao?” He questioned. You nodded, “Mhm, she’s my bestfriend, we’ve been close for a long time and I love her a lot.” You expressed happily as you grinned. “That’s cute.” Ony smiled, enjoying seeing you happily ramble. Ony’s stare was so intense and intimidating as he ate up every detail of your figure with his eyes, it made your heart pound furiously in your chest. That ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom nonstop in your system.

“My homie Jean convinced me to approach you since I kept staring at you, hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” Ony chuckled as he rubbed at his chin. “Oh!, I wasn’t uncomfortable, just mostly confused..I didn’t understand why you were staring at me.” You admitted honestly with a soft laugh as you shyly fiddled with your charm bracelet.

Ony’s eyes tracked the movement, fully attentive to your every action. “Because you’re beautiful. Cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t keep my eyes off you mama.” Ony’s low sultry voice spoke honestly as he stared into your now wide eyes. “I-I uhm..” You stuttered out, speechless and beyond flustered now. You even let out a faint whine in embarrassment as you shifted from foot to foot.

You weren’t used to such shameless and honest flattery so you didn’t know how to process it and respond. Ony was torn because a part of him loved watching you squirm and crumble because of his words, and the other part of him wanted to ease your turmoil and comfort you. “You can relax mama, it’s alright. I just wanted to clear up your confusion.” His comforting side won, his voice soft and soothing.

“Sorry, I’m not used to accepting compliments, especially from a guy like you..thank you though.” You managed out after awhile, breathing out to calm yourself. “A guy like me? What’s that mean mama?” Ony prodded with a teasing grin. You swore you’d fold and burst at the seams if he called you ‘mama’ one more time. The way it rolled off his tongue just sounded so nice.

“I-I mean..uh..” You stammered out as you smiled shyly. “You know, you’re attractive and intimidating..and you go for girls like Nao” You explained, completely embarrassed. Ony was highly amused as he listened to you try to elaborate, a grin on his face. “Cute. You think I’m attractive sweet girl?” Ony asked, continuing to tease. “Also I don’t go for girls like Nao. I want you.” Ony said honestly.

You felt your heart skip a beat hearing that, getting a little giddy as you bit down on your bottom lip to hold back your huge smile. Ony eyed the action of you biting your lip, his mind drifting to a not so innocent place. “Let me take you out on a date.” He suddenly said. You looked at him in slight shock, his straightforwardness catching you off guard.

You contemplated your answer because you were unsure. You did think Ony was very attractive and you liked talking to him but you were afraid of this not going well. You decided to take Nao’s advice though and take your chances. “okay, I’d love to~” You smiled. Ony felt like he won the lottery. The two of you then exchanged numbers before Ony got pulled away by his friends.

“I’ll text you later mamas.” Ony told you before y’all parted ways. You were giddy to tell Nao all the details about your interaction with Ony. He stayed true to his word too, texting you sooner than you expected. You texted him on your way back home with Nao. “This is soo exciting! Do you know where he’s taking you yet?” Nao questioned excitedly as she drove.

“A restaurant, I think it’s fancy.” You informed her. “Oo can I dress you up? Pretty please, I wanna make you all sexy. Make him lose his shit.” Nao laughed. “Of course that’s what you wanna do.” You laughed too while shaking your head. “You can dress me up though, I want the sexy bad bitch vibes.” You agreed, thinking it’d be nice to switch it up for this occasion.

“Yessuh!, You’re gonna get dicked down real good.” Nao cackled evilly. You gasped, “You’re nasty! Horny ass.” You laughed in disbelief. “Girl you know damn well you’re not miss innocent, with your kinky ass.” Nao called you out as the two of you laughed together. “Hush, I still have class~” You huffed with a grin.

Throughout the night you and Ony texted nonstop, him constantly flattering you and giving you butterflies with his sweet words. Despite you being really shy in person you were more bold through text, saying things you’d never say directly to his face but it was fun to play around. Little did you know though, Ony was gonna make you stand on your words.

onyanbear 😫🧸: why you keep playing with me ma? you think I won’t put you in your place?

you : bc it’s funnn, you’re not gonna do anything. You’re scaryyy, all talk, no action

onyanbear 😫🧸 : ight, keep talking that big girl shit. We’ll see.

You were giggling and kicking your feet reading his responses, you knew you were probably digging yourself a hole but it was too fun to tease and provoke him. You honestly didn’t think he’d actually act on his words. You’d learn soon enough though that he was not playing.

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

You were honestly a nervous wreck as you prepared for your date with Ony. You hadn’t been on a date in awhile and you’d say you had a crush on Ony at this point so it was exciting and nerve-racking all at the same time. Nao provided you with a little silk black dress that shaped your curves in all the right ways and showed off your figure. You paired the dress with black heels that wrapped up your ankles.

You curled your hair, doing a natural makeup beat and putting on red lipstick. This was definitely different from your usual cutesy style but you looked good. You put on jewelry, just some stud earrings and a bracelet, along with an anklet. “You look good as fuck! I’m so proud.” Nao exclaimed before she began taking pictures of you like a proud mom.

“Thank you” You laughed and posed for some of the pictures. “When’s he pulling up?” Nao asked. “Uhm in about 10 minutes or so I think.” You hummed as you checked your phone, seeing his text saying that he was on his way. “You excited? You like him so far?” Nao prodded teasingly and eagerly. You giggled, “I am excited but I also feel like throwing up from nerves. I do like him so far..he’s nice.” You admitted with a shy smitten grin.

“Oo, this is so adorable. I’m happy you’re giving him a chance.” Nao smiled. Soon Ony pulled up, calling you to let you know he was outside. “Okay I’ll be out soon!~” You told him. You quickly got up, spraying on your favorite perfume and grabbing your purse before you walked out to see Ony standing outside his car waiting for you. His attention was on you the second you stepped out, eyes eating up your figure.

“You look so sexy ‘ma. breathtaking.” Ony hummed, not being able to take his eyes off you as his hands found their way to your waist. Your face flushed, growing shy as your stomach swarmed with flutters at his words and the feel of his hands on your body. “Thank you” You said with a smile. “You look good too, really good.” You returned the flattery as you eyed him as well.

He was dressed in a black and grey hockey jersey and some black jeans, ‘panda’ dunks on his feet. He had on the same chain and he had rings adorning his fingers this time. He smelled so good too, his intoxicating scent so yummy in your nostrils. “thanks mama.” Ony grinned before he pecked your cheek. He was being extra touchy this time around but you didn’t mind it at all, you were soaking it up actually.

“Let’s go.” Ony said as he opened the car door for you, allowing you to slide into the passenger seat. He closed the door after you and then rounded around the car and sat in the driver’s seat. He adjusted the air and the radio before he began to drive. You just watched him the whole time, completely infatuated with him and his whole aura. Your inner thoughts screaming about how he was ‘fine as fuck’. You wouldn’t say it out loud though, too shy to do so.

“You staring real hard lil mama, see something you want?” Ony asked in that smooth low voice of his that made you melt, his eyes still focused on the road but his attention completely on you. ‘slow down’ by bobby valentino played lowly on the radio, creating a mood in the car and further adding to the building tension. You didn’t know how to respond, mouth parting but no words coming out, flustered by his question.

You did see something you wanted, you wanted him, really badly too. You weren’t gonna admit that though. “N-No..just like staring at you..” You partially confessed sheepishly as you played with the hem of your dress. Ony chuckled, the sound filling your ears and consuming you, so pleasing to your senses. “That’s cute baby. You’re so shy now, what happened to big girl in my messages? Talking all big about how I can’t handle you, you gon’ make me nut in my pants, how I ain’t gon’ do shit, I’m not daddy material, Hm? Where’s that energy at ‘ma?” Ony called you out, making your eyes blow wide.

You didn’t think he’d make you eat your words, it was embarrassing hearing your own words repeated back to you. “I-I..I was playing!” You defended, not wanting to bury yourself further. “Ah, so you’re the one that’s scary then? All talk, no action? Ain’t that what you said?. After you said I wouldn’t bend you over my lap and spank your little ass.” Ony continued, loving seeing you fall apart from being called out.

You were pouting now, “I’m not scary, I did say that and I was right. You still ain’t do shit.” You huffed, now standing on your words because you weren’t gonna let him doubt you and call you ‘scary’. “Mm.” was all Ony said in response as he grinned, he was glad you were still being a brat, just so he could turn you right back out. The two of you arrived at the restaurant and once Ony parked he was quick to snatch you up by your neck.

You let out a choked gasp, staring at him wide eyed as he pulled your face towards his, his large hard squeezing around your throat making you whine. “I love that attitude shit ‘ma. It makes my day. You keep fucking with me because you want me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?” Ony uttered against your lips, your breaths mingling together, the proximity and his words putting you in a daze.

“You want daddy to fuck you stupid? Turn you into my good girl?” Ony hummed, you let out another whine. You wanted to kiss him so bad, your lips parted, tongue practically about to fall out from how desperately you wanted it. Right when you tried to lean in, Ony pulled away and let you go. “Come on, we’re gonna be late for our reservation.” He said as he got out of the car.

You were bewildered, stuck processing what just happened as Ony opened the passenger side door for you. Ony was completely amused at the lost look on your face, it was priceless. He contained his nonchalant appearance though. “Come back to me mama, let’s go.” Ony hummed, trying to snap you out of your trance.

It worked, you immediately got out of the car and began to follow him into the restaurant, a slight embarrassed flush on your face as you realized how desperate you must’ve looked moments ago. Ony led the two of you to your table once you entered the restaurant. Being the gentleman he was he pulled your seat out for you, “thank you” you said softly with a smile as you sat down.

He hummed in response and pushed your seat in. The two of you got settled and ordered. “You gonna act like a good girl now?” Ony asked you after the waiter left, slightly joking as he looked at you. You pouted, “No” you huffed softly. You were gonna stand your ground, plus you were still disappointed that he didn’t actually kiss you. Ony chuckled at your response.

“You’re lucky you’re cute as fuck.” He expressed with a grin. You were flattered, folding again at his sweet words as you smiled and grew shy again. “I tried to look sexy today though” You muttered as you adjusted your dress a bit. “You do look sexy, very sexy. You also look cute though, cutest thing ever. You have a nice mix of both.” He told you honestly, only flattering you more as you grinned giddily.

“Not cute enough for you to kiss me though..” you mumbled, you intended to say that in your head and not out loud but it slipped. Ony couldn’t help but to laugh, he was satisfied with getting you all sulky. “don’t laugh~ it’s embarrassing.” You whined as you covered your face with your hands. “My bad baby, you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s adorable you want me to kiss you so bad.” He comforted with a soft laugh as he pulled your hands away from your face, kissing your hands as he did.

You felt those now familiar butterflies swarm in your system at his soft plump lips against your hands. You could only imagine feeling his lips elsewhere..the thought giving you shivers. “You happy now?” He asked as he now held your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You loved it so much, his hand in yours, it was so comforting and intimate. You wished he’d kiss your lips but you were happy with what was given to you. “I am, very happy” You giggled.

“that’s good mamas.” He smiled before he kissed your hand again, kissing down to your wrist. “You smell good as fuck..got me wanting to eat you ‘ma..” he sighed as he looked into your eyes. You stared back, silent now but your heart pounding loudly in your ears. That ravenous look in his eyes had you stuck, your breathing slowing as anticipation began to build inside you.

Ony constantly kept you on edge but you loved it, and sometimes you felt the urge to go over that edge. “Why don’t you then?” You uttered out, not backing down from his stare. Ony smiled at your words, “You’d like that wouldn’t you mamas? My head between your legs? That sweet pussy suffocating me?” He teased. If you weren’t wet already, you definitely were now. His words effecting you and making your pussy ache to be touched.

“I would like that, soo much, please” You hadn’t intended to beg but it seemed Ony made you desperate with ease. He chuckled, “We’re gonna eat first babe and have our date, you can be a good girl and wait.” He stated before he kissed your cheek. You pouted but agreed, wanting to be good and also wanting to finish your date since you’d been excited for this date.

Soon the food arrived and the two of you began to eat, the food was heavenly. You two talked and got to know each other even more. “—So you’re beautiful and smart as hell, I hit the jackpot.” Ony grinned. You had just finished telling him about your college accomplishments, “oh hush, you probably have had plenty of smart beautiful women.” You giggled.

“Nah, none like you at least. You’re a gem mamas.” He said genuinely. His sweet words always made you swoon, falling for him more and more by the second. “You’re so sweet to me.” You said softly as you smiled. “You deserve it and I’m tryna make you mine so I have to be sweet to you.” He smiled as he finished off the dessert you ordered. You gasped, “You ate the last bite!” You whined in disappointment stomping your feet in your heels.

Ony couldn’t help but to laugh, cackling as you pouted and sulked like a baby. “You’re not sweet anymore.” You huffed as you crossed your arms. “God, you’re so cute it makes me sick.” He said with a grin while shaking his head as his laughter died down. “Here ‘ma, you can taste the last bite too.” He said before he grabbed you by your jaw and kissed you deeply.

It caught you off guard, you took a minute to process what was happening before you began to kiss him back. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into the feeling of his lips against yours, his tongue pushing through the seam of your lips to fill your mouth, allowing you to taste the residual of the dessert. He dominated the kiss easily, his tongue tangling messily with yours and pushing against the insides of your cheeks. He began to suck on your tongue, making you moan into the kiss.

“shit..” he groaned lowly as he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips still. Your head was fuzzy from the kiss, your breathing heavier as your now low lust filled eyes stared into Ony’s pretty brown eyes. He licked his lips, breaking the saliva string between your lips. Your eyes fixated on the movement, completely entranced by the man.

Ony was just as enamored by you, your red lipstick now slightly smudged on your plush lips. That needy look in your eyes that seemed eager to be satiated. You were just so beautiful and he couldn’t get enough of it. “Mm, you taste better than the dessert mama” he said, it was kinda a cheesy line but he meant it. “Should’ve kiss you sooner..” he mumbled before he pecked your lips again repeatedly.

You loved every second of it, kissing him back as much as you could, smiling into the kisses. You felt completely head over heels at this point. “Let’s head out mama” he hummed as he pulled away. He paid for the meal and held your hand as you two exited the restaurant, getting back into his car. You were in a relaxed state on the night drive, ony’s hand resting on your thigh and your head leaned against the window, shamelessly watching him as he drove.

“You wanna go back to my place baby?” Ony asked as he gave your thigh a small squeeze. “Yes please” you said, a little too eagerly causing ony to chuckle. You couldn’t help it though, you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, be completely consumed by him. It wasn’t long before you guys arrived at his house.

You observed the place with curiosity, “You live alone?” You questioned as the two of you got out of the car. “Mhm, roommates aren’t my style. Too much of a hassle. I like having my own shit.” He said as he unlocked his front door. You nodded in understanding, “Makes sense.” You hummed before letting out a squeak in surprise when Ony suddenly picked you up.

You didn’t get a chance to get a word out before Ony started eating your face, kissing you with desperation as he gripped your ass. Truth be told Ony couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, being tempted the whole time as you provoked him and he snapped after he kissed you, wanting to devour you whole after that. You moaned into the kiss, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as you pulled him closer.

Ony began to carry you upstairs to his bedroom as the two of you continued kissing. He sucked on your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth and making you whine out. He loved all the cute noises you made, wanting to pull more of them out of you. He left opened mouthed kisses down your neck prior to running his tongue up your neck all the way to your ear, pulling your earlobe into his mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of you.

You shivered at the feeling of his mouth on your sensitive ear, your nails beginning to dig into his neck as you whined pathetically. He threw you onto the bed once you guys made it to his bedroom, making you gasp. “Mhm, I ain’t forget about all that big girl shit you talked. You gon’ learn not to play in my face.” He reminded you as he pulled his shirt off, allowing you to see his bare upper body, his chest covered in tattoos.

You gawked at him, your eyes eating up every detail of his body. Ony pulled you by your legs, treating you like a rag doll as he parted your thighs causing your little dress to rise up. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful ‘ma” Ony sighed in delight as he began to kiss from your calf up to your inner thighs, goosebumps following the trail of his kisses. You flushed at his compliment, you loved the nonstop flattery.

You wanted him so badly, watching him as he took his time getting to the place that ached so desperately to be touched. Ony paused once he reached your wet cunt, his breath ghosting against your clothed cunt in an agonizingly teasing way. You quickly grew impatient as you began to whine and squirm, “stop teasing me” you huffed as you whined. He chuckled, “So fuckin’ needy” he tsked as he slapped your thigh to get you to stop squirming.

You whimpered and pouted but ceased your movement, “you’re taking too long. still no action…” you muttered as you rolled your eyes. “You ain’t getting shit from me unless you start actin’ right mama” he stated as he stared up at you. You stared back at him, huffing once you realized you weren’t gonna win in this situation. “fine, I’ll act right..” you obliged. “good girl.” He praised and placed a kiss on your clothed clit.

You swooned at the praise, soaking it up more than you thought you would. Ony didn’t waste anymore time, pulling your panties off and tossing them aside before he delve into your sweet pussy, dragging his tongue through your slick folds. You moaned out in satisfaction at finally getting what you had been craving since you saw ony standing outside his car waiting for you.

He suckled on your throbbing bud, his fingers spreading your lips apart as he focused on the sensitive ball of nerves. You gripped the bedsheets as you whined and moaned out shamelessly in pleasure. You were a dripping mess, ony making sure to lick up all of your fluids, the lewd slurping and sucking sounds filling the room as he did.

“such a pretty fuckin’ pussy” he awed as he pulled away and stared at your messy cunt, glistening with your slick. Ony spit on your pussy, adding to the filthy mess before he pushed his tongue into your entrance. “oh fuck” you moaned as you threw your head back, falling apart at the feeling of ony’s tongue fucking into you. Ony hummed as he devoured you with ease, enjoying every second of it and loving the sight of you becoming an incoherent mess.

His eyes fixated on you and your every reaction. Your dress bunched up around your waist, your hair sprawled out on his bedsheets, mouth parted in bliss and your eyes fluttered shut, cheeks flushed and nipples hard. You looked so beautiful, Ony felt like he was looking at a work of art. Ony licked up the fluids that ran down to your ass, you gasped and instinctively tried to close your legs when you felt his tongue prod at that hole that hadn’t been touched before.

“nah, none of that shit. stop playin’ with me.” He said as he pulled your legs back apart, gripping them in place so you couldn’t move them. You whined, shaking your head and squirming when you felt Ony’s thumb pressing on your ass hole. “n-not there..” you whimpered, not used to being touched there. “relax mama, let me take care of you. You can handle it.” He soothed as he placed kisses on tummy.

Ony used the mixture of his saliva and your juices as lubricant to ease his thumb into your tight hole, “onyy~” you cried out at the feeling as you clawed at the bedsheets. “You’re doing so good mamas” he praised before he started to eat you out again while his thumb continued to stimulate your sensitive hole. Tears brimmed your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, your senses on overdrive at the combined feeling of ony’s tongue on your achy pussy and his thumb stretching your backside.

Ony stretched the tight ring until he was satisfied and then he pushed his tongue into your puckered hole, making you squeal as your back arched. He groaned as he fucked his tongue into you, starting this pattern of licking from your ass all the way back up to your throbbing clit, messily eating you out as drool pooled from his mouth onto your cunt down to your ass crack. You were a moaning mess underneath him, never experiencing such immense pleasure before.

The lower half of ony’s face was soaked in your juices, wetting his pretty beard that adorned his face. He loved every second of being buried between your legs, drowning in your essence. “sweet fuckin’ pussy, so good mamas. fuck.” He groaned as he ate you out like you were the best meal he’d ever had. You were a mess, makeup runny from your tears, eyes rolled back, legs trembling as your orgasm approached you like a truck.

“m’ gonna—ah fuck gonna cum mmph!” you cried out in bliss as that knot in your stomach bubbled to burst. “cum for me princess” he rasped, pulling your clit between his teeth and tugging at it. You screamed as you came, gushing all over ony and soiling his bedsheets in your fluids. Ony licked up all of your mess, moaning as he swallowed up your sweet juices like it was his favorite treat.

You sniffled and whined in sensitivity as he continued to lap at your cunt, feebly pushing at his head only for him to slap your hands away. “s’ too much” you whimpered with a pout, head still fuzzy from your orgasm. “Nah, I’m not done with you yet. Shut that shit up.” He said and he slapped your twitching pussy causing you to let out a sob. “You a big girl, right?” He taunted as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and pulling your hips up into the air, pushing your back into a painful arch.

“Mm, my pretty girl” He cooed, rubbing his hand soothingly over your ass as he admired you in this position. You relished in the adoration, loving it and its contrast to his mean attitude. Ony took off his jeans, releasing his hard cock that was painfully hard and pearling precum at the tip. He sighed in delight as he stroked his cock and placed kisses down your spine, using his free hand to pull your dress off the rest of the way, you assisting him and throwing the dress aside.

Ony ran his cock through your puffy wet folds, his tip nudging your clit as he teased you making you whine. “Such a whiny slut.” He remarked in a mocking tone. “I wan’ it, please.” You begged shamelessly with a sob, you were so desperate and craved him so badly, you couldn’t care less about how pathetic you were acting at the moment. He grinned at your begging, “I thought it was too much?” He teased.

He pushed into you, throwing his head back as the two of you moaned in unison at the feeling. “shitt” he groaned out as he got lost in the feel of your tight walls swallowing up his cock. “feels so fuckin’ good mama” he grunted as he began to pound into you, not wasting a second as his gripped your hips tight enough to bruise. You became a babbling mess as he fucked you mercilessly, pulling your hips back hard against his each time he thrusted into you.

“love this pussy, so fuckin pretty and wet and warm..shit princess.” Ony rambled as he got fixated on how good you felt around him, your cunt gushing around him with every thrust. “s’ soo g-good daddy~” you babbled incoherently into the mattress, mouth parted, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth and your head in the clouds as ony used you like his own personal fleshlight. “Mhm, you like it ‘ma? Love daddy’s dick rearranging your guts?” He said as he wrapped a hand around your throat, leaning over you as his cock drilled deeper into you.

All you could do is nod in response, unable to form words as your body was consumed in pleasure, ony’s dick hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. “you’re so fuckin’ cute. so fuckin’ pretty. wanna ruin you sweet girl.” He couldn’t get over how pretty you were, especially in this state. Your hair a mess, sticking to your sweaty body, back arched and ass up, pretty brown skin glowing under the moonlight shinning through ony’s window, inner thighs covered in your slick, lips swollen and red, cheeks squished in ony’s grip on your face, eyeliner and mascara runny underneath your eyes and down your cheeks, hands trembling as you struggled to hold yourself up.

Ony couldn’t get enough of the sight, wanting it engrained in his mind forever. He pulled your face towards his, kissing you passionately and messily as he continued to pound into you, the filthy mixture of your slick and his precum coating his pubic hairs and his happy trail. You moaned into the kiss, kissing back with just as much passion as you sucked on ony’s tongue making him groan. You loved it everytime he kissed you, the intimacy of it making your heart stutter.

Ony let his spit pool into your mouth as he broke the kiss, his opened mouth hovering over yours as you stuck your tongue out like a greedy pet, swallowing up every string of his thick saliva. “fuck..nasty fuckin’ girl. Gon’ make me nut mama” He groaned as he pounded into you incessantly. By now you were fucked dumb, not a single thought behind your dilated rolled back eyes.

All you knew at the moment was ony ony ony, his scent, the feel of his muscular framed body pressed against yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue, the grip of his large rough hands manhandling your body as he pleased, the way his cock filled up your plush wet walls and satiated every ache, itch, and burning desire inside you. He overtook your entire being, bringing you to pure ecstasy.

Your climax hit you before you could even prepare for it, letting out a high pitched moan and sobbing into the mattress as you creamed all over ony’s cock. “that’s it mama, oh fuck- good fuckin’ girl. making a mess on my dick” he talked you through it as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Your body trembling as you fell apart completely, no longer able to hold yourself up as you whined in overstimulation.

Ony felt his head go fuzzy at the way your pussy pulsed and clenched around his dick, the lewd squelch echoing with every thrust as ony chased his own orgasm. “c-cum’n me please wan’ it” you manage to babble out, your words slurred and muffled into the bed. It took ony a moment to process your words, his brain muddled as he became pussy drunk, obsessed with your filthy warm walls sucking up every inch of his dick.

“You want it baby? Ah shit- want daddy to fill up your greedy cunt?. I’ll give you whatever you want pretty girl.” He moaned as his pace got desperate and sloppy as he felt that sensation build up inside him. “fuckk fuck!” He moaned out, throwing his head back as he finally came, his cum spurting out in loads and coating your walls, filling you up to the brim. You whined at the warm feeling as your cunt milked him dry.

Ony breathed heavily as his thrust slowed to a stop, “you okay sweet girl?” he asked softly as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. You only hummed and nodded in response, half passed out at this point. You were completely fucked out, body relaxed and exhausted from the overwhelming pleasure. Satisfied with your response, ony slowly pulled out, the mixture of your fluids pouring out messily and bubbling as he did. Ony loved the mess, the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs and his dick covered in the filth.

You snuggled deeper into the bed as ony got up and began to clean you up gently, not wanting to add more stress to your already spent body. He cleaned up himself as well before he tucked you in and climbed into bed with you. He admired your peaceful state, looking so beautiful and claimed by him. “I like you..onya~” you mumbled out in your half conscious state.

It caught Ony completely off guard but it made him smile, his heart swelling at your adorable confession. “I like you too sweetheart” he replied softly before he placed a kiss on your cheek. You smiled drowsily, happy to have met ony and taken a chance on him.

[thank you to everyone who read this, I appreciate it sm 🥹]

#aot #aot fanfiction #onyankopon smut #onyankapon #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #aot x black reader #onyankopon snk #fanfic #ony x black reader #aot x y/n #pwp fics

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months ago

Text

This Halloween | Yandere SatoSugu

“Hi, gorgeous! Surprised to see me here?”

“Don’t cry, (Y/n). We were never going to kill you.”

The reveal that the small town’s biggest menace was your friends Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto. To think that the golden boys of Jujutsu High who were dating two of the victims were hanging off one another in their bloodied costumes. Smiles wider than they’d ever been with their supposed partners, the reality sinking made the bile rise in your throat.

Thinking about your meditation you close your eyes. The smell of partygoers rotting all over the small beach house fills your nose. The sound of the back screen door bumping against the frame as the beach breeze goes in and out with the tide surging outside. The taste of pennies filled your mouth as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. The twitch of your fingers awkwardly hovered in front of your chest as they flexed in and out. On top of your breathing didn’t calm you as much as it usually did.

“(Y/n) did you hear what I said?”

The voice of Suguru somehow made it past the warbled sound of absolute confusion that clouded your brain. The leather glove lightly held your left hand as he slowly came closer to you’re shivering state. Those brown eyes looking so deeply into your own, it felt wrong to look away.

“All you have to do is say we left early.”

You opened your mouth to ask but the growing sound of sirens stopped you. Gojo was the first to let out a curse, giggling about running away. He shook his raven-haired partner who hushed him with an amused smile, turning back to you.

“You can do that for me can’t you Dove?”

The duo left out the back. That screen door screeched as they ran through it; returning to bang against the frame angrily. Its aggressive banging triggered an all-new set of shivers to wrack your body, causing you to fall to the floor. Closing your eyes you try to level yourself again but the sound of your own heartbeat is deafening and the eyes of your best friend pleading with you.

It will haunt you forever.

The sight of Detective Choso brought an uncomfortable pit into your stomach. The man you’d met years ago in another city–your city, with his hair down and his eyes had bags like a masked vigilante.

“He’s out.”

The news didn’t scare you. Not as it should have. Many may find it strange to know you dreamt about serial killers on death row. But it warned you. Prepared you for the day you’d need to run as far as possible from anything you knew. On the anniversary of that day no less.

“What’s the plan?”

The detective pursed his lip and his eyes wandered. His feet, running the flat of his oxfords on the carpet of the entrance to your apartment. The silent scratch of the wool under his shoe irritated you almost as much as his request.

“We wanted to lure him out. Will you—”

He didn’t need to finish before the door was slammed in his face, pushing him back into the apartment hallway. Choso groaned to himself, the situation's futility ebbing at his already short patience. He calmly knocked on the door again.

A muffled, “Go away!”

He sighed, lightly banging his head on the rusted number of the apartment. With his ear so close to the door he could hear the receding footsteps and the mumbled curses directed at him. He looked down the hall making eye contact with the local department’s plant taking out the trash. He didn’t feel completely terrible leaving when there was a guard there, making a note to try again in 24 hours.

“I’ll be back.”

It was meant to be assuring but Choso worried it came off threatening as heard a defiant thump on the opposite side of the door. Resisting the urge to sigh again Choso turned tail, making his way to the elevator. Pulling out his phone he scrolled through his contacts, landing on the name: Idiot surrounded by blue hearts.

Holding the phone at his waist he timed the ringing until he heard said idiot singing out a ‘hello.’ Only then did he bring the phone to his ear and respond.

“The eggs secured and it’s staying in the next. How’s the snake?”

_____________________________________________________________

Gojo Satoru finished his lecture with a grand gesture as though he had finished giving a presentation. When in fact, he’d pressed play on the school’s TV the second his students got in their seats. Maybe in the back of his mind, he’d thought to make himself look better for the detective standing just outside the classroom. Even though they both knew it didn’t matter.

“I appreciate you waiting until the kids were outta the classroom. Wouldn’t want to explain to the parents why the police were in their school.”

The white-haired teacher spoke so cheerfully, that his familiarity with the detective might have seemed positive. The detective wasted no time calling their partners in; the stout one stood at the door while the taller one pulled at the blinds of the classroom. With the classroom darkened and the school slowly emptying the head detective decided to speak. Making a dramatic move of pulling a voice recorder out of his pocket he held it up as he asked his question.

“Where were you the night of October 7th?”

Gojo sat on his desk, kicking his feet as he mockingly thought hard. He pretended to put his fingers to his temple as though that would provide answers. The detective associates sneered at the childish display.

“Hm on the night of October let me see–”

The man trailed off as he reached over his desk, pulling a calendar out of a drawer. Flipping through it he animatedly pointed his index at the circled date on the calendar.

Smiling up at the detective Gojo exclaimed, “The anniversary of those horrible murders? Well, I was grieving over the victims by grading my kiddies homework.”

The detective snatched the calendar from him, letting his eyes glaze over the marked paper. Confirming the statement, he tossed the calendar back to him.

“Can anyone confirm this statement?”

Gojo let out a playful whine in annoyance as he dramatically flung back on his desk. The detective and their bodyguards all flinched at the large movement, hands hovering over the fire-arms tucked under their coats and at their belts..

“It’s always evidence with you guys, geez. I have it on the calendar, I never left my house you can ask my neighbors about that.”

“Your neighbors all live three kilometers away from you, That’s not an option.”

“So critical. If I personally broke out some poor inmate on death row do you really think I would have let you just walk into my space like this?”

The question had the detective hovering over their weapon again. Gauging the posture of the white-haired man who was only smirking in their direction with an unsetting nonchalance. The pause that ensued allowed the detectives to reluctantly let their hands drift from their weapons as the sound of multiple chattering students hurriedly approached the empty classroom. The door previously closed swung open to reveal Gojo’s most loyal student–a pink-haired teen leading the charge.

“Teacher! Did you see my post?”

With that smug persisting smirk on his face, Gojo turns his head feigning surprise.

“Unfortunately no. I was too busy talking with these old friends of mine. What’s up?”

“Dude! The police are totally raiding your place!”

The teen turned his phone around to reveal a short video of police and armored vehicles surrounding the luxurious Gojo estate. Plenty of onlookers also recorded the unnatural phenomenon for the typically small town. Granted the amount of paparazzi that constantly come in and out of the town to film anything they can on the Gojo head wasn’t all that rare, but the authorities looking so closely was. And like everything in this town, it was all anyone would talk about for months.

“Well, Detective Mahito am I under arrest?”

The long-haired detective sent a look to his partners and the curious teens absorbing the situation. Coming to a decision he openly hovered his hand over his weapon.

“You are not under arrest but for your safety, you need to come with us.”

Of course, there was a video preceding this of the beloved teacher being escorted into an unmarked vehicle and the students behind the camera being shooed away as it drove off. With all the interested eyes on this case, it almost felt impossible that anything would slip under the radar of millions of curious eyes.

_____________________________________________________________

(Y/n) remembered the way the couple went public with one another. After the tragedy that ensued at the annual Hallow’s Eve party, it was of minor shock that the two golden boys of the high school found solace in one another. Everyone chalked it up to the bonding of trauma after both lost their girlfriends.

“I just found that no one could relate like he can.”

You heard the reasoning in passing, always around the surrounding crowds curious about the latest scoop on the survivors of the Hallow’s Eve tragedy. No doubt some of them will have turned around to tell the outlets interested in the story as well while others would theorize about the identity of the masked killer.

“Maybe it was them!”

“Yeah, what a defense! ‘I don’t talk anymore after what I’ve seen!’ As if!”

The nauseating feeling would eventually go away but the pressure was suffocating then. Haunting your mind with their echoed speculations and the image of your dead friends. What’s worse was the killers so happily parading their sorrowed expressions along the halls. Accepting the gift baskets and surface-level condolences without an ounce of suspicion. The feeling of your hair raising along your skin when one of them mocked their sympathy towards you.

“Don’t be so hard on them, they’ve seen things no one should have to see.”

The constant threat of tears was a reoccurring pain, as you replayed the events of that party. It was never to be soothed by the couple who’d spend their free time pestering you. Often leaving quickly thereafter to repeat their sick game.

“Just keep quiet, Dove. We were here the whole time after all.”

“Yup, and to prove it we’ll take a picture. Don’t tell anyone okay?”

You couldn’t bare listening to them any longer.

______________________________________________________________

Conveniently the press that did have your new contact information weren’t as insistent as before. Quietly asking for a comment on the criminal notoriously associated with Hallow’s Eve murders. After all the rumored victim of the killer was recently detained, surely as the witness that convicted the killer to death row you’d have something to say. You kept quiet. Deleting emails and hanging up phone calls from unidentified numbers, solely focused on getting to your plane on time.

“I’m so sorry but all commercial planes have been grounded for the foreseeable future.”

Like glass breaking at the perfectly angled rock, you started to crack.

“What. Do. You. Mean?”

This poor employee didn’t deserve your wrath but she also wasn’t betting on this plane to save her life. She’d nervously stutter and stumble over her words as she denied every out or once of compensation to make this any better.

“There may be some private planes but those are in incredibly high demand–”

“I’ll go! I don’t care how much just tell me where!”

She seemed reluctant to say but she still told you. Maybe it was because she felt bad, seeing someone so desperate to get away or maybe it was because you were inches from her face. Either way, you were on the tarmac within the hour, along with a few others desperate enough to pay privately. Only to be crestfallen when you arrived at the staircase to enter the plane; letting the other exasperated passengers pass by your still form.

“May I help you with your bags?”

An attendant, with a shining smile and neatly pressed uniform with the plane’s company proudly pressed right above his heart. Greeting you with nothing but an offer to help; you cursed the involuntary reaction to vomit.

“Are all…the private planes available…from this private airline?”

You tried to keep the tremor in your voice to a minimum as you nervously wrung your hands around the handles of your bag.

The attendant—none the wiser—smiled and gestured to the other planes lining up the tarmac with rows of people.

“Yes, they are. Gojo Airlines is offering a discount during these trying times–”

He kept talking but you weren’t listening. Turning around to leave, ignoring the airport security and the attendants who were preparing to let you onto the plane. It meant nothing to you for the beating of your heart and your panicked breathing is all you can hear. When you finally waved down a taxi, you quickly dialed a familiar number.

“He knows.”

______________________________________________________________

Detective Jogo looked nervously at the contact of his partner miles away. Since the week that their missing subject committed the grand massacre, he was infamous for. Because of the nature of the parties involved, he was strictly instructed to not call unless absolutely necessary considering they suspected their phones were compromised.

“You eat yet?”

The question came with a warm bagel and a cup of coffee. Held over his seated form by the burly officer Hanami; coming from the breakroom on the other side of the station. For the first two weeks, it was just following the heir around. But with the inmate scheduled for death row at large and another anniversary coming up, it was decided they’d move the heir into one of their holding cells. Of course, it was lavished with furniture and decorations all chosen by the illustrious Gojo Satoru. He did whine when they demanded to inspect and bug his phone and laptop but the station was taking no chances when it came to this specific case.

The rumors were enough too.

“Have you checked on him within the last few hours?”

Hanami tilted her head looking at the one-way glass of the blue-eyed witness pacing casually in the fortified room. From the glimpses that Jogo got from his chair across the room, their witness was unusually chipper. The days they spent guarding him throughout the day were incredibly boring; temporarily leaving his job as a teacher to gallivant around a hotel of his choosing didn’t make it better. Throughout those weeks Gojo had subjected the team to an aggravating amount of chatter—none of it helpful or even worth repeating. Detective Mahito was plenty great at keeping up but Jogo and Hanami opted for alternating earplugs. Even with the earplugs in he could pick out the strong hints of annoyance bubbling underneath his wide smile and piercing gaze.

The change unnerved him. Especially with the rumors circulating around this specific witness.

“Didn’t want to besides I’m watching from the camera.”

Blunt and unforgiving Jogo wouldn’t expect anything more from the officer. It didn’t put him at ease.

“Where’s Mahito? Still investigating that place?”

If it was possible Hanami’s apathetic expression tightened, her brows knitting at the thought.

“Yes. Last he called all the evidence had been scrubbed and all we can hope now is that they forgot something we could use.”

Jogo sucked his teeth in shared annoyance. The rumor he was dreading was more like an undisclosed fact. The true masterminds behind the Halloween Massacre were both Gojo Satoru and the death row inmate Suguru Geto. The files say the Gojo family lawyer fought hard for the heir; effectively blaming it all on Suguru Geto. With prints, hair, witness testimony, and photographic evidence all on the heir they were able to plead for coercion by malicious manipulation. Getting their heir off and painting his partner in crime to be a greater threat than he. The whole fiasco of the jewel of the Gojo clan being involved made the whole case a living nightmare, that their superior Choso Kamo rose to fame with. By finally encouraging the only witness with viable evidence to testify Suguru Geto was sentenced to death row. And through expert lawyers mysteriously hired, he remained waiting for years.

Choso, before he left to guard the witness, believed it wasn’t just an escape attempt but a chance for the killers to tie everything up. Destroy the evidence, stop the search for the death row inmate, exact revenge on all who participated in the case, and reunite with their loved ones by the end of Halloween.

Of course, it was their best detective leaving to protect the witness who was in the most danger. Leaving his underlings—Mahito and Jogo to keep them on the pulse of the case and their eyes on the man believed to get off scot-free.

If it weren’t for him knowing Choso cared so much for this specific witness; he would have thought he was leaving them the rough side of this mission. He knew the hardened detective could be a compassionate man–a hard thing to retain in this line of work.

Jogo huffed taking a sip of his coffee,” I hope he’s having a better time than we.”

Hanami made a grunt of agreement before returning to the hall to stare at the monitors she had been for the past couple of days. He would have offered to switch if he didn’t think he thought this pit in his stomach could be resolved.

The 40-year-old detective stood from his seat. Careful to nurse the leg he’d fractured from two cases ago. He took his uneaten bagel, noting it retained some of its heat. He headed to the holding cell. Sending a look to the guard at his station, a buzzer rang and the door unlocked. With the final swipe of his keycard, he let himself into the semi-messy room. The culprit was sitting on his bed, a smile still on his smug little face.

“Hungry?”

Those cerulean eyes weren’t on him the second he came in, instead looking at the clock left graciously in the upper corner of the room. Nor did they flicker when Jogo asked his question. The disrespect made the Detective’s eyebrows twitch as he kept his hand holding the bagel.

“I’m not going to eat your leftovers, old man.”

“Not good enough for you!? Not up to your snobby standards,” was what Jogo wanted to say but he didn’t need to get kicked off this case for suspected bias. It didn’t help that the man still wasn’t looking at him, laughing to himself as though Jogo told the funniest joke.

“Have you eaten anything today?”

Jogo was trying. He really was.

“Nope, but I’ll eat later today.”

Jogo loosened up,” Have any idea what you want?”

The Gojo heir’s smile didn’t compare to the smirk he had on before. His smile practically reached his ears and those haunting eyes staring right through Jogo, “All of your livers.”

“What?!”

The suspect wasn’t speaking anymore and Jogo’s phone was ringing.

Jogo had a decision to make. Answer the call or make sure he just heard what he did.

“You should answer that. He might never call again.”

Despite his better judgment, Jogo pulls out his phone, seeing the name of his fellow detective and the goofy photo they took on his phone. Another look at the white-haired man and he answered the call. Immediately his ears were assaulted with the sounds of wood crackling; the unnatural sound made his mind piece together what was happening.

“I-it’s a trap!” the tearful voice of Mahito rings the loudest. Jogo almost doesn’t want to speak as if that would make what he heard go away. “G-get out–”

The sound of something large falling and the frantic screaming from either the detective or some other poor soul being abruptly cut off. Punctuated by the phone call ending.

Jogo couldn’t take it anymore throwing his phone aside to reel his fist back to punch the chuckling man in the face. Prepared to fight against the guards that would be arriving any second he aimed with urgency. He was certain he’d have time to get in one. One good hit to the face of the man responsible for the chance that his partner might be dead.

“Did you really think I’d just let that happen? That’s cute.”

Jogo’s fist was easily captured by Gojo’s hand, a careless gesture strong enough to keep the shaking fist static and far from its intended target. Unnerved by that restraint the detective launched his other fist only for it to receive the same treatment. Pushing with all his might Jogo–in the split seconds of any fight—found himself at an impasse. Figuring if both his fists were being thwarted he’d go to the next best thing–his legs. Cursing the ache he’d have later he aimed to kick the heir in the gut.

“But not that cute.”

The quip was a warning barely processed as Gojo caught the man off-guard, releasing his fists to latch onto the outstretched leg. Gripping the ankle of the old man swung the body of the detective into the one-way glass. It crackled under his weight bursting with shards of glass as the stout man rolled past the curious guard’s post.

Jogo didn’t feel like he could get up but he did watching the blue-eyed man let himself out of the holding cell, a stolen I.D. being twirled in his hands. He didn’t need the guard to let him out, outright kicking the metal door until it flew off its hinges. Of course, the guards in the room moved with a taser and baton in hand.

“You guys are so dramatic! How about you go out begging then maybe I won’t make you suffer.”

The guards didn’t bother responding to the one with the baton going first. Swinging from above any normal man could barely manage to dodge but Gojo was by no means normal. He easily sidestepped the baton using the downward stroke of the officer to grab at his neck. At speeds, Jogo couldn’t comprehend the officer’s head was facing the opposite direction. Even worse they weren’t dead their eyes darting around as they tried to scream—making a gargled plea instead. The one with the taser barely had time to fire, missing the dodging assailant who easily grabbed the coils beaming with electricity to pull the gun from the guard's shaking hands. Defeated with a hand slicing toward their exposed neck also making the man gurgle as he fell to the floor.

“Now what was it we were talking about?”

The question was directed to Jogo and the pain paralyzed him to the floor. Helplessly watching as Gojo slowly walked closer. The old man’s eyes darted nervously around searching for anything to use. His thoughts raged with an all-manner of possibilities running through his mind there was one tool bound to stop the incredibly durable heir. His gun. Jogo took great care to not let this realization be made. Planning to only reveal this when he needed which would be soon, judging by the way Gojo was cracking his knuckles.

“About how this was all planned by you?”

Jogo was stalling but it didn’t seem Gojo was listening. The heir tapped his foot impatiently against the floor as he looked annoyed at the aching detective.

“Are you done because otherwise, I’m just going to end–”

In a large flash of blue, the heir stood back just barely dodging the hurling form of Hanami. Using her natural height against him she aimed a violent punch into the ground, cracking the concrete the heir was standing over just a moment before sidestepping. Jogo felt his heart lift, who greater to fight alongside than Hanami—the human tank with punches as strong as steel. Surely now they had a chance.

Jogo pulled out his gun aiming at the dodging heir. Waiting for just the right moment to pull the trigger and finally end the menace that got to run free.

“This really was fun but I’m tired of this place.” The declaration sounded petulant like a child,” and I’m tired of you.”

Almost in annunciation a pale hand shot through the chest of Officer Hanami–the human tank stopping her assault to look down at the hand pulling out of her. Before Gojo’s bloodied hand could leave a spray of her blood dousing her face and eyes. Fear-filled eyes watched his partner struggle as a waterfall of viscous carnage poured out of her baffled mouth.

Through the tears growing in his eyes, Jogo fired his gun.

Over a year spent in the police academy and being a rookie in the small town. To a supervisor to a junior detective who humbled himself to learn the young genius detective. More than certain his aim was true, he collapsed into himself. The weight of both his partners, his friends dead when just hours ago they were as lively as ever.

Thankful that the beast responsible was gone.

“Glad you came I was just about ready to clean up myself.”

The monster he thought he’d defeated was standing above him casually calling out to another down the hall. Whoever this was holding a disembodied arm and was casually walking in the halls surrounded by bloody remains of the investigative team.

As frightening as it was to revel in the new threat having gotten past security and was brutal enough to be carrying the limbs of his coworkers. But it didn’t take away from the horror of realizing his gun never did go off. Instead, his gun was squished with the bloodied hands of Gojo Satrou, who sent one last disgusted look in his direction before dropping the disfigured gun in his lap.

“I told you, I had it under control.”

“Whatever you say ‘kuna.”

“Don’t call me that. Now go on get to your ‘date.’”

If Gojo had taken the talons he called fingers and torn out Jogo’s heart it would have been better than recognizing the pink-haired, tattooed man, covered in blood. To think he’d have the privilege to die near the detective-turned-mercenary Ryomen Sukuna. Face ashen and succumbing to his fate, he wistfully watches the white-haired man skip over the carnage of the force. Without so much of a glance, the Gojo Satoru had taken everything from him in a matter of minutes.

The only thing he did have left was doomed to be gone soon.

“You ready to fight to your death?”

An idol asking a question worthy of someone who wasn’t likely paralyzed by merely being thrown through a window and failing to shoot the man responsible for the destruction of an effort to maintain justice no matter who the suspect is. There was only one thing he could say as Sukuna awaited his answer.

“Yes. More than ready.”

______________________________________________________________

Today was the day you’d broken your silence all those years ago. Once again traveling with the detective to the far reaches of a rural town far away within the safe confines of a car. It didn’t soothe you in the slightest. From the airport incident, the unnerving shiftiness within your stomach hadn’t settled not like it did when Suguru was finally shipped off to prison and not like when Gojo was sent to a foreign exchange school. It wasn’t over.

“How are you doing?”

The question was worthless but you hadn’t said anything since Choso dignified the plan. A lot was unspoken between you but talking was still necessary.

“Like throwing up. How’s your brother?”

The immediate question was not just a deflection, it was the easiest way to distract the detective. Choso was a proud older brother who at any topic that reminded him of his little brother ensued in long rambles about said brother. It’s a perfect soundtrack to drown your thoughts and avoid playing therapist with the detective you’re effectively running away with.

“Since you asked—”

Seeing the tired straight-faced detective finally begin to smile as he proceeded to rant. It’s a nice change to the gloom you both permeate. You figured you’d help stave it off for a while with some light chatter.

“---and his little friends all look up to him like the natural-born leader he is!”

“He’s in high school now right?”

“He is. He’s actually….” Choso trails off as his smile falls,” he’s actually going to Jujutsu High.”

The name of the familiar school renews the tense atmosphere and with terrifying speed, the synapses of your brain begin to fire off. Suddenly you can guess why Choso insisted the plant stay behind or how he refused the undercover police escort. Or why instead of awkwardly attempting to cheer you up he keeps his tired eyes on the road ahead.

“So the safe house was a lie.”

Choso visibly grimaced, “Not entirely. I wouldn’t give you to them if I wasn’t sure you’d be safe.”

“Them!?”

He dared to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I know what they’re after and they’re not going to hurt you.”

You rolled your eyes, “You trusted the serial killers who promised they weren’t going to hurt me?! Gee, what a smart detective you are, let’s blindly trust the guys who have a death wish for me!”

Choso had the nerve to look offended at that. You didn’t bother holding back your glare, anxious to hear the reasoning behind this betrayal. His hands tightening against the wheel told you there was some turmoil—as if that would resolve the bubbling fury that had you debating about taking the wheel and driving you both off the road.

“My partners went back to the place, searching for evidence.” He spared a look towards you as if confirming you’d shrink in on yourself at the mention of that Halloween Night. “It was rigged to explode after they found some evidence. My other partners that were meant to guard him….”

His tired eyes were blinking in a futile effort to hold back tears. Thankfully he had the decent to pull over before clasping his hands over his tired face. With only the light sniveling filling the car, you were forced to remember that night. The fire. The blood. It was all too much. You reached for the handle of the door, pulling at it to get into the open fields Choso pulled in. Only to find the door would not give.

“(Y/n), their funerals will be closed caskets and the cause of death will be chalked to some accident that explains the state of the bodies.”

He was trying to look at you, to get you to look at him. The droplets clouding your vision and the frantic breathing you were trying to regulate weren’t helping. Recognizing your struggling he grasped your hands, holding them the way he did when you first fought to retell the tale that imprisoned one of the most infamous killers to exist. Rubbing his rough thumbs over your knuckles in comforting circles encouraging you to slowly inhale and exhale.

“They did that to the ones they wanted dead for years. They told me, the last thing they wanted to do was harm a hair on your head.”

The tears were running as Choso pulled you into a hug, listening to you blubber about it being a lie.

“I think if they wanted you dead they would have done so by now.”

His assessment was crude but the truth. Deep down underneath the fear and noxious feeling of encountering those two again, there was still disbelief. A part of you that always denied that the friends you’d seen reveal themselves to you would ever think about reducing you to one of their many victims. Perhaps for your sanity, you’ll have to trust in the friends you know. The friends that confided in such a secret all that time ago.

“So your brother…anyone else?”

He knew what you meant and as he lit a cigarette; he answered with a puff.

“The whole town. Practically wiped out the entire workforce with the stunt they pulled.”

He inhaled with a wince, taking in another painful huff. He hated smoking.

“If they did do anything the whole town would be completely at their mercy…”

Reaching into his coat pocket, you pulled out a cigarette for yourself swiping his lighter to enjoy your cancer stick. Both of you fill the inside of the car with your despair, smoking your anxieties into something smaller. Hopefully weaker.

“Well if it’s for your brother and the whole town then I guess it’s a worthy sacrifice.”

Both of you joylessly laughed, taking long pained drags of the sticks—all the while licking at the tears that escaped your blinking eyes. A couple more puffs of smoke were had before Choso pulled back onto the road.

For whatever reason things were lighter as if that would take away to the possibly dangerous future you’d be subjected to.

“When you can, you should take Itadori to see the city. That’ll really change his life.”

“Any places you recommend?”

“Do you want a list?”

It was nice to fill the space with something positive—a rare activity you two partook in after the court case. It was nice to do it one last time.

The drive wasn’t much longer, eventually pulling up to a small neatly painted house with no car in sight, if it weren’t for Choso’s intel you’d have been none the wiser.

As he put the car in park, he looked at you. As sincerely as he’s always done despite visible tiredness in his face. His arm wrapped around yours with a hesitant hand.

“If you really don’t want to do this you don’t have to. You can punch me and we can say you ran off into those cornfields we passed by earlier.”

Mustering a smile as you leaned your head against his chest, “I’ll be fine Choso. Say ‘hi’ to Yuji for me.”

He helped you get your bags, knocking in a specific tune on the door. The door opened and an old woman revealed herself, welcoming you with a warm smile inviting you both inside. You looked to Choso in confusion as you followed closely behind leading you to a parlour filled with hideously dated and flowery decor. She insisted you sit, promising to fix some lemonade for you both.

“Oh, young man can I have your help with this? I’d get it myself if it weren’t so high.”

Choso hurriedly followed after her, sending a look for you to sit and relax.

This felt weird throwing off your expectations for your meeting with the murderous duo. Managing the burden of a fate to come you allowed your hands and eyes to wander. Letting your eyes glaze over with thoughts of how old the intricate wooden end stand is. Playing with the frayed edges of the quilt decoratively draped over the couch. It kept you distracted long enough, finally breaking out when you saw the long and pale hands coming to wrap around your chest. In a perfect world, it would have been Choso being oddly affectionate but these fingers were longer than his, sculpted to the very knuckle to become a living weapon. Accompanied by an inhale against the top of your head the owner of these hands pulled you further against the back of the couch; further pulling you into the warm soft and sturdy chest of a man you’d feared. A curtain of silky black hair much longer than you remembered dropped just past your shoulders, daring you to look up at its owner who refused you the luxury of space as the shadow-colored eyes stared deeply into yours.

“Hello, Dove. You look radiant as ever.”

Velvety as the day he testified and was sentenced was Suguru Geto. Older but just as handsome as the day you met; exuding the air of gentleness that made anyone feel at ease. That is until he didn’t need to. Those hands long and spindly trailed from your chest and on to your neck tracing your collarbone through your clothes. Finally resting on the middle of your neck, index fingers toying with the organ underneath your skin.

“Hum for me Dove.”

It was just like old times, unwilling to speak and yet plagued by the demand into those dark eyes to give something. So you hummed broken and uneven, in your ears it was hardly the symphony he claimed it was. But it didn’t really matter what you thought now.

“That’s my Dove.”

He annunciated proudly moving his hands to hold your face up, keeping you in place as he softly explored your mouth. Nibbles were soft but urgent as though there was a timer for this reacquaintance unlocking the memories of this exact kiss.

Under the stairwell after a big game, the first after the reveal. Satoru was insistent you come, unable to goad a word out of you, he had you hum. A promise to come to their game and cheer them on. As per usual they won, despite suffering from so many late players the team relied on their surviving all-star players. Unsurprisingly Satoru was majorly credited with their win, allowing Suguru to pick you out from the cheering crowd leading you under the stairwell.

“Aren’t you proud of me, Dove? Show me how proud of me you are.”

The kiss was just like this, still soft but needy. Hands methodically wandering to allow for an opening; some easier access to melt his body into yours in the minutes he had before the others came. It was just like this.

“Aw gorgeous, you missed us?”

Playful as always and hands eagerly running under the hem of your shirt to rub thumbs along the soft expanse of your skin. Pecks in between the hands creeping higher all the while Sugure tightens his grip on your jaw a warning not to forget him. Not ever again.

When Suguru does pull away it’s to suck at your neck, holding you by your shoulders as you’re hands wiggle with uncertainty. Even subconsciously you hesitate to have your hands reciprocate while the two assaulted you with kisses that were getting rougher by the minute. Satoru ignored Suguru when he climbed up higher to meet your lips; and worked to intertwine his fingers with yours. With another attempt, he roughly pulled at Suguru’s lips with his teeth demanding they share a deep kiss of their own before returning to you.

“Oh Gorgeous we’ve been waiting to do this since forever.”

Two more final pecks from each of them, allowed you to breathe leaving you limp and pliable for the especially touchy Gojo Satoru who slotted you into his lap as he settled onto the older couch. Suguru sat closely his arm reaching over the top of the couch to let his hand rub at your neck once again.

“Missed you at the airport.”

The pit in your stomach returned at the loaded judgment and came with a pinch into your side. Under Suguru’s scrutinizing gaze and the feeling of Satoru’s eyes from behind you, had you hoping to defend yourself.

“I thought you were going to kill me.”

You said it with attempted laughter, begging for the laughter of the killers you’ve feared for years–all to confirm that still wasn’t the plan.

Suguru in his forever-contained demeanor sent you a smile with half-lidded eyes. The most unclear answer to the anxiety that hadn’t rested even with the butterflies of kissing these two again. The vibration of a laugh from behind wasn’t an answer either and neither were the muscular arms circling you.

Suguru released your neck, and brought his hand to hold up his head,” So you and the detective. Did you get together, after I left?”

The growl behind his smile reminded you of why it took so much courage to speak out. Something you bore witness to since the couple decided to reveal themselves to you. Not only for the fear of ending up like their victims but for the entirely personal punishment only Suguru in all his infinite fury could conjure.

“No! I’ve been single this whole time.”

That got you a squeal from Satoru who lightly squeezed you tightly into him giving light pecks to your neck. Not stopping anytime soon you turned your attention back to Suguru, who still didn’t look pleased.

“Hm, I’m not convinced.”

The nonchalant claim made you feel like crying again. You remember this conversation when it came to an old friend. Even when you pleaded, silently albeit he’d scoff and smile at you while he remained ‘unconvinced’. Kissing your forehead before leaving to claim another victim for the masked killer.

“He brought you to me …he-he convinced me to talk.”

That wasn’t true. It was you. Through a month of self-care and therapy, you were able to muster the ability to speak again. Choso was great support but it was you who did it. You who gained the courage to move away and restart your life away from the memories of your serial killer boyfriends. Speaking of, you whimper at the sting of pain along your neck.

Straining your gaze to look at the man whose admiring the mark on your neck. Despite the loving caressing of his hand along your neck, the glare of Satoru Gojo was just as frightening as the killer sitting across from you.

“I don’t know I think that’s all the more reason!”

You couldn’t restrain yourself from silently pleading with Suguru looking deeper into the house where Choso disappeared with the older woman. Suguru sent a hand through his unrestrained hair as he sighed.

“I’m not pleased with you (Y/n). Telling on us like you did someone’s got to pay.”

You could hear Gojo smirk behind you.

“So what do you say, babe round 3 of our favorite Halloween Night?”

Suguru released his locks as he mockingly stuck his nose to the sky,“I’ll think about it.”

Suddenly the rickety old house shook from a plane overhead; thinking nothing of it you expectantly looked at Suguru who seemed to be debating. Only for him to abruptly stand and make his way to the door. Satoru hopped up with you in tandem refusing to let you walk on your own without him clinging onto you.

They both made their way to the back porch where the very plane you’d refused to ride a day ago was releasing its stairs. With the steps fully extended Satoru tugged you along as Suguru began to ascend. With the question of Choso’s life still hanging in the balance you dug your feet into the ground pointing at the house which Satoru barely acknowledged until you’ve turned yourself in his direction.

“Wait! My bags! Choso has my bags!”

That had Suguru coming down the steps faster than you could turn; feeling that familiar grip on your jaw as he forced your gaze on him.

“You don’t get to choose if we bring that with you. I didn’t get to choose what I got to bring when you sent me to that cell. ”

You held your gaze as you stood your ground, “Not him. Be mad at me! Not him.”

For a moment those black depths flashed with something violent; a glimpse of what hundreds had seen in their last moments.

It wasn’t for you but how could you know that?

Suguru sighed lessening his grip on your jaw, using both his hands to hold your face. Running his thumbs along the creases of your face as if he had to remember the texture of your skin against his own. Since his reunion with Gojo, he fought tears, pulling you into a hug. One you returned on instinct, somehow even with the blood splattered on his face with the mask of a serial killer hanging on his head he was still your friend. As Gojo closed in from behind you you reminded that you felt the same for him; more than certain that you’d be rendered the same helpless witness to the deaths of so many friends. It would always end this way.

with them at the end of the blade, with the power they’d always have.

Satoru settled a hand on your waist and his other on Suguru’s face, his smile as warm and welcoming as the day you first met.

“Come on you two. Let’s spend this Halloween together. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Finally entering the plane a part of you felt like you lost. That you succumbed to the imbalanced rulers of the system. But the largest part of you knew since you’d gotten involved with these two, you’d been given the footprint of a giant and it really would be better for everyone if you let them win especially this once.

At least with certainty, you can say this Halloween no one else is dying because of you.

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wondersinwaynemanor · 7 months ago

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what if the batkids decided at the same time to bring their partners to the Manor and they argue about it?

[i can't stop writing long scenes]

scenario 1:

Duke has his arm wrapped around Izzy's waist as they make their way to the movie room.

Duke: Have you decided which movie you want to watch tonight?

Izzy, grins: The Notebook?

Duke, opening the door of the room, chuckles: But we've just watched that two weeks ago. Besides, Dick and Jason love that film, I've watched it a lot of times by now.

Izzy, turns the switch on to illuminate the room: What's the harm in rewatching-

they stop in their tracks as Steph and Cass enter the room from the other entrance of the movie room.

Steph giggles and leans towards Cass' face to kiss her. they don't even notice that the room is now bright with the lights on.

Duke, clears his throat loudly: Uh. Just to let you know, there are other people in the room.

Izzy: Sorry! We didn't mean to interrupt.

Steph and Cass, still holding each other, look at Duke and Izzy at the other side of the room.

Cass waves to them.

Steph: What are you two doing in here?

Duke: To watch a movie? Clearly.

Steph: But we started an hour ago.

Duke: I don't see a sign in the door that says it's occupied though.

Duke has really been hanging too, too much with Damian and Jason.

Cass, covers Steph's mouth before she speaks more: Maybe we can watch together.

Izzy, smiles: What were you guys watching earlier?

Steph and Duke, say at the same time: But this was supposed to be a date!

then Steph and Duke glare at each other, suddenly arguing over random things.

Cass shakes her head and leads Izzy outside the room so they can get some food from the kitchen.

---

scenario 2:

Dick continues to lead Wally to the private pool that was just newly built.

they just came home from a mission and some dip in warm water under the bright stars sounds so good right now.

by the time they both strip down to their boxers, Dick is a giggling mess as Wally bridal carries him on the stairs down to the water.

Wally, still carrying Dick on his arms, backing both of them on the pool wall: Have I told you today how beautiful you are?

Dick, blushes, wrapping his arms on Wally's neck: You always remind me. But tell me again-

then out of nowhere, someone shouts, "KABOOOOOM!" and a large splash of water hit both of them.

Dick, rubs the water off his eyes: What the actual fu-

and it's Roy from across the side of the pool, leaning against the wall with a smug grin on his face. on his side is Jason with the same kind of smile.

Roy, brings Jason closer to him: Oh, isn't it my two best friends of all time?

Jason, laughs: Ocupado, Dickface. Sorry.

he wasn't sorry at all.

Dick, groans, coming down from Wally's arms: You lied, Jay! You said you were out of town.

Jason, shrugs: Plans change, Dick.

Wally, rubs Dick's arm soothingly: A little warning next time, guys?

Roy, grins: Not our forte.

Dick, grumbles: You guys are assholes. Go to another area or something, I don't care.

Jason: I'm sorry, what was that, Dick?

Dick: Asshole, I said go to another area. Period.

Jason: Why you-

then the two brothers are moving forward towards each other on the water, aiming for a fight of sorts. one minute, Jason has Dick under the water and the next, it's Dick chasing Jason in the water like ducklings. like birds.

Wally hides Dick's escrima sticks, while Roy hides Jason's guns. just in case the fight escalates.

---

scenario 3:

Roy, whines: Jaaaaaybird, can we sleep now?

Jason: I said give me a minute, Roy. I need to grab a book.

Roy leans his weight on Jason, closing his eyes.

Jason: And I'm not carrying you, idiot.

although, he wraps his arm on Roy's waist, supporting him as they walk to the Manor library.

Jason, opens the door: Give me a few, kay? Then we can- WHAT THE SHIT?

Roy feels more awake than awhile ago as they both stare at Kon, shirtless on the couch and his hair a mess.

Jason: Clone, what are you doing here????

Kon, flushes, embarrassed: I... I... Um.

then Tim appears from behind the couch too, his hair also a mess, but thankfully his clothes still on. or else Jason would have threw up on the floor.

Roy just has a grin on his face the entire time, amused.

Tim, grins: Hey, guys.

Jason, pinches the bridge of his nose: I swear, Timmy, I fucking swear, if you and clone boy don't fucking take your hormones upstairs to your own room, I will-

Tim: You will what, Jay? I mean... You don't own this place. Doesn't mean you spend most of your time here, it's yours.

Jason: I never said I owned this! I just fucking said, don't do funny business on the library couch.

Tim, scoffs: As if you don't do funny business here.

Roy, grins even widely: The boy's got a point, Jaybird.

Jason, now even more upset: Go, go upstairs!

Tim: But-

Jason: Now, Tim!

Tim: You're not my mom!

Jason: And you're not being responsible!

Tim: As if you're any better!

then the two boys continue to argue, leaving Roy and Kon to shrug and make their own conversation by the door.

Roy: Hey, kid. How's the Young Justice?

Kon, smiles: Pretty good. How's the Outlaws?

---

bonus:

Damian and Jon are in the game room, playing some Mario Kart when they hear voices outside the room.

Steph: We were here first!

Dick: I thought I told everyone in the groupchat that me and Wally will be having the Game Room.

Jason: I already called dibs in the room.

Duke: I arrived earlier than any of you, so technically, me and Izzy get to use it first.

Tim: Hey, I never had the Game Room this week!

Cass, suggests: Can we just all share it?

Damian, opens the door, annoyed: Will everyone just keep their mouths closed? I have settled in the room already.

as the batkids continue to make their points, Jon exits the room and flies to the main living room where the rest of the partners are talking.

Jon, settles beside Kon: I guess this is a regular occurance.

Roy, chuckles: You have no idea, kid.

Wally: As long as I can remember, yes.

Kon: You'll get used to it, little brother.

Izzy: With a house so big, they still argue on who gets a room first.

Izzy, sees the Monopoly game under the coffee table, smiling: Anyone up for Monopoly?

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jezebelblues · 2 months ago

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𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝐇.𝐒 ݁ᛪ༙ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

pt. i, pt. ii

𝐂𝐖: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 7.3k

❏ yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.”

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant.

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #vampire!harry #vamprry #kinktober #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles drabble #harry styles x you #niall horan

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fangirlrecipe · 1 year ago

Text

Slow Down, Cowboy (Part 1)

Pairing: Billy the Kid (Tom Blyth) x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None. This will probably be the first part of a three or four part series. Establishing the pairing. More fluff to come!

Synopsis: Reader is a server/bar keeper at the local saloon. Billy and the guys come for a drink after a long day of horse stealing and cattle rustling. It doesn’t take much for Billy and reader to take an interest in each other.

A/N: So, no surprise I’m on the Tom Blyth train after watching TBOSAS. I needed more so naturally I watched Season 1 of Billy the Kid and let me tell you, I was not disappointed. He is SO FINE in this series!! Kicking my feet and twirling my hair fr. Also a very good series!! Please watch if you love Tom and love a good story. This was born out of disappointment from the lack of writing on Tom’s Billy on this app as well as a craving for more Tom 😅 Enjoy!!

Part 2: Here

Part 1: A Sight for Sore Eyes

The saloon was already hustlin’ and bustlin’ on a Friday evening. The cacophony of chatter, laughter, and glasses clinking, only to be amplified by the 5 or so pairs of cowboy boots you heard stomping into the saloon, accompanied by the incessant ringing of the bell above the entryway door. The scuffed boots belonged to a group of rowdy cowboys coming in for a drink, or three, after a long day of horse thievin’ and cattle rustlin’, no doubt. You eyed up each one of them, noting their greasy hair underneath tattered hats, dirt caked around and under their fingernails, and revolvers strapped to their hips for easy access. You had been around town long enough to know that these guys were up to no good during the day, but that was none of your business. A paying customer was a paying customer, no matter how they got their money.

You carried on serving customers who were already at the bar until you heard the bell above the door ring again, signaling the entrance of another patron. Normally you wouldn’t give that sound a second thought, but something compelled you to glance up in the direction of the noise.

The saloon was small, so there wasn’t much distance between you, working behind the counter, and the door. You were surprised to be met with striking blue eyes underneath curly brown hair and a dark brown top hat. He was tall. Lean. Young. Very handsome. You had not seen him before… at least not in person. Wanted posters with his face and a handsome reward for his capture were plastered all over every county east and west of Lincoln. None other than the infamous Billy the Kid had just stepped through your saloon doors, reputation preceding miles before him.

Despite what you had heard about him, you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on him as you memorized his appearance. You noticed his eyes sparkle as they met yours. Perhaps it was from the lights hanging overhead, you thought. He stopped as the door slammed to a close behind him. Without breaking eye contact, he removed his hat and held it to his chest, giving you a polite nod and a slight smile, acknowledging your innocent exchange. He then wandered off to find the loud group of men that had entered the saloon moments before him.

So, Billy the Kid was riding around town with these guys. You knew to keep your distance from guys like that in your personal life, but at work, money was money. The group of guys came up to the bar, eyeing you up and down before placing their drink orders. They weren’t original; Whistles and cat calls accompanied by orders for straight vodka or whiskey for the lot. You handed out drinks with a smile, graciously accepting their tips. Then, they were on their way, hootin’ and hollerin’ over to a table in the corner to drink until they got dizzy, celebrating their accomplishments of the day. All that was left behind was Billy.

“How can I help you today, sir?” You asked him, quickly realizing he was a man of few words. He had not made a single comment like his buddies had when they approached the counter.

Billy had put his hat back on shortly after entering the saloon, but he took it off again as soon as you addressed him, making eye contact. A sign of respect.

“Hi there. Whiskey, please.” His slight southern drawl was charming, you had to admit. But it seemed newly acquired. He wasn’t from here originally. You didn’t know much about him aside from the daily town gossip, but something told you he was different. Misunderstood, maybe.

You nodded your head and smiled. “One whiskey, comin’ right up.” You set a glass down in front of him and poured the amber liquid into it. He picked the glass up and drank it down in one gulp. Must have been a hard day, you thought to yourself.

He tapped the rim of the glass with his index finger a couple of times before meeting your gaze again. “Another, please, ma’am,” he asked softly. You obliged and poured him another. This time he decided to sip instead of down it in under three seconds.

“You got it. Holler if you need anythin’ else. Okay, darlin’?” He nodded and dropped his gaze down to the glass in front of him. Perhaps it was the warmth of the alcohol, but you could have sworn you saw a blush creep up on his cheeks. You smiled to yourself once your back was turned.

The night went on as you carried on taking care of the patrons at your bar, drinking themselves to sleep or until their buddies helped them stumble home. You and Billy stole glances and sweet smiles throughout the whole night. Eventually, the saloon cleared out leaving only you and Billy, who had joined his friends at their table shortly after getting his third whiskey from you. As you were wiping down the bar counter and cleaning glasses to start closing up, you watched Billy talk to his group of cowboys. They seemed to be egging him on to do something, but he kept shaking his head and laughing, declining politely. Eventually they got the message, clapping him on the shoulder and exiting the saloon, claiming they would see him back at camp.

You kept your head down as you continued to polish glasses and silverware, ears perking up at the sound of his boots scraping the hardwood floor in your direction. Billy gently set the glass on the counter in front of you with a thud before resting his elbows on it, leaning in your direction. You looked up at him through your lashes. “Not headin’ out with your buddies?”

Billy shook his head, noticing your clean nails and the absence of a wedding ring. “No, ma’am. I don’t partake in their late night activities,” Billy told you in a soft voice. You wondered what activity he was referring to. It could be one of two things: drinking, or women. Since they already had the drinking part taken care of, there was only one other thing it could be. You weren’t sure why, but learning this about him made you feel happy. Relieved, almost.

You placed the glass you were cleaning back on the shelf underneath the bar and threw the rag you were using over your shoulder. With a hand on your hip, you asked, “well, in that case, is there anything else I can get you this evening, cowboy? We are closing right about now.” You waited for him to answer, taking the opportunity to appreciate how well his plaid dress shirt fit him, the top two buttons now open to reveal a new patch of skin you had not seen upon his arrival. You pulled your eyes away when you realized you had been staring a second too long.

“No more drinks for me, ma’am. Thank you, though. There was one other thing I was hoping to get from you, if you don’t mind me asking.” You leaned forward yourself, really meeting his eyes this time. With him leaning across the bar like that, he was the closest he had been all night. The bright blue of his eyes couldn’t even get lost in the dim light of the saloon. You hated how your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close you two actually were.

You cleared your throat and took a second to steady yourself before asking with a playful smile on your lips, “and what might that be?” Billy smiled in return, dropping his eyes to his hands before returning them to you again. “I was hoping I might learn the name of the beautiful woman serving me drinks tonight. So I know who to ask for when I come back tomorrow.” There it was, that smile again, that threatened to leave you speechless. Honestly, you were pleasantly surprised by his manners, especially for a man so young and to be riding around with gunslingers all day. You had heard he was dangerous, but you seemed to have forgotten that. Although you were nervous to be alone with him, you also felt safe. Safe enough to share your name with him.

“Y/N,” you told him with a smile and a nod. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, miss Y/N. My name is William but folks call me Billy. I sure do hope I’ll be seein’ you again real soon.” His voice was smooth, like it was dripping in honey. His charm was effortless and completely disarmed you. Those goddamn cowboys.

“Well, I’m here pretty much 24/7 so, drop in whenever you like. Now I know who to look out for.” You smiled at him again, holding his gaze for a second. He nodded and made his way to the door, stopping to turn around and look at you one last time before exiting the saloon. He tipped his hat to you as he said, “you sure are a sight for sore eyes. You have a good night now,” and was whisked away by the evening breeze.

You stared at the door where he stood just moments before, simultaneously smiling to yourself like an idiot and cursing yourself for being so smitten by a cowboy upon the first interaction. He left you breathless and with only one thought:

In a world of boys he’s a gentleman.

#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #billy the kid fanfiction #Tom Blyth fluff #fluff #Tom Blyth fanfiction #billy the kid fluff

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writingrock · 4 months ago

Text

the tale of two lovers [1]

pairing: barbarian! katsuki bakugou x reader (female) summary: a bard approaches a lone barbarian in search for a story to tell. Who could have known that the barbarian end up being such a romantic tale.

notes: fantasy au, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, bakusquad, barbarian bakugou

word count: 7.1k

part list

part one: chapter list

a/n: I told myself this would be a oneshot and now it's accumulated to six chapters with no end in sight.

In the heart of this simple town, a rambunctious group of adventurers stumble through the night. Seeking refuge from the cold night. A towering barbarian leads— His broad shoulders clad in woolly animal fur that puffs upwards adding height to his figure. Over his red cape, a scimitar slings over his back serving as a warning to all. Irritation grows with each step, his red eyes darting around his surroundings for shelter.

“Tch.” a grumble leaving his throat as they trudge on, “How hard is it to find a damn inn?” annoyance laces the blonde’s voice. The pink skinned fighter and dragon shifter exchange glances, silently communicating through their facial expressions on how to mitigate Katsuki’s temper. After a brief and wordless discussion, Mina turns to the barbarian.

Attempting to ease the tension, she speaks gently. “Don’t blow a fuse just yet, we’ll find one soon,” Her bright pink skin stands out even in the dim setting, blush pink curls bouncing as she walks, “you’re not the only one who’s exhausted ya know.”. The barbarian rolls his eyes as he moves forward.

Their mindless bickering fills the cool air as they traverse through the town, searching for somewhere easy and simple to stay for the night. Folks that happened to pass by the group could feel their agitation seething from them. Their frustrations would be understood if one simply knew what they’ve been through. Heavy grunts and whiny complaints leaves their mouths as they search for an inn. Exhausted from finishing their recent commission that brought them on a long-winded journey.

Finishing their commission feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from the group’s shoulders. They’ve returned to town to meet with their employer for their reward. Despite how antsy the group is for their pay, they’ll have to wait until it’s day. At the very least, they can get some deserved rest after such a long journey.

A warm glow stops them in their tracks. There’s a bustling inn standing with pride in the centre of the town. The windows are aglow with a golden light, casting a warm, inviting hue onto the weathered cobblestone street below. To them, this inn is a warm haven against this cold night. It appears that their earlier frustrations seem to vanish with this finding. Atop the thatched roof there are wisps of smoke curling lazily from the chimney, carrying the comforting scent of wood, smoke and roasting meat. The smell alone causes their stomachs to grumble. Hunger finally hit them. How long have they been starving? Flickering lanterns hang on either side of the heavy wooden door, their flames dancing within their confines. Hanging above the entrance is a creaky sign emblazoned with the tavern’s name, “The Tipsy Hippogryph”.

The heavy wooden door creaks as it swings open, allowing the sounds and scents of the tavern to spill into the night. The tavern's walls, made of sturdy stone and timber, are adorned with flickering torches and a few faded tapestries. There is a cosy, golden glow over the room. Wooden tables and benches, scarred by years of use, are scattered across the floor, most occupied by patrons enjoying their evening. The low hum of conversation and occasional bursts of laughter create a comforting, lively ambiance. The tavern keeper, a burly man with a thick beard and a booming voice, moves deftly behind the bar, filling tankards with frothy ale and serving plates of hearty stew. His wife, a kind-eyed woman with a quick smile, greets the weary travellers.

“Evening.” She greets warmly, “Looking for rooms or just here for a bite?” It’s clear she’s experienced with her work. There’s a homely touch to her that puts one at ease. Her voice is pleasant with a maternal tone, it welcomes all that step foot into the inn.

Bakugou strides up to the counter, his imposing figure catching the attention of a few patrons. He simply ignores them and speaks to the innkeeper. “Two rooms, we’ll share.” He wastes no time getting straight to the point. Not really keen on small talk or talking in general.

The innkeeper gets to work immediately, flicking through the log book to search for the requested rooms. Her hands are fast to hand the barbarian the keys and inform him where they are located. “If yer hungry, our kitchen is still open.” she gestures to the busy meal area by her side. The place is scattered with patrons from all walks of life. Townsfolk, travellers and merchants. They sit hunched over their mugs, deep in conversation, while others sing raucously, their cheeks flushed from the ale.

At the sound of food, the adventurers do not waste any more time. They find a table by the fireplace. The blooming fire roars in the large hearth, its crackling flames adding to the tavern's warmth. The air is thick with the mingling aromas of roasting meat, fresh bread, and the sharp tang of spilled ale. The scent alone sends them to the edge of their hunger. Eagerly ordering a feast with an abundance of ale to satisfy their stomach. A barmaid weaves through the tables with practised ease, balancing trays laden with food and drink. She exchanges friendly banter with the regulars as she serves them.

In the corner, a minstrel plucks at a lute, singing a cheerful ballad that competes with the din of the crowd. His nimble fingers dance across the strings, and his voice, though not perfect, adds a layer of charm to the tavern's atmosphere. A few patrons clap along, and a couple of children, likely the tavern keeper's, dance near the hearth, their laughter ringing out above the noise. Candles set in iron sconces flicker, casting long shadows that shift and sway with the movement of the patrons. The wooden floorboards creak underfoot, worn smooth by countless feet over the years. The bar is a hub of activity, with patrons jostling for the keeper's attention, coins clinking as they pay for their drinks.

It wasn’t long for the barmaid to come by with their order. As she approached, the enticing smell of the freshly made food made their mouths water. Swiftly, she begins to place the platter onto the round, wooden table. In the centre of the table, golden-brown turkey legs are piled high on a simple steel plate. The skin is crispy and glistening with savoury juices. The sight teases the group as they wait patiently for the maid to finish her job.

A basket of freshly baked bread is placed beside the turkey legs. The bread was still warm, the crust crackling slightly as it cooled. The innkeeper had sliced the loaf thickly, revealing a soft, fluffy interior that begged to be torn apart and slathered with butter. Following that is a large bowl filled with baked potatoes. Each potato was perfectly roasted, the skins crispy and slightly salted. A dollop of melted butter pooled in the centre of each potato, seeping into the fluffy interior and releasing a heavenly, buttery fragrance.

Finally, the barmaid props down a wooden pitcher of ale, frothy and cold, with a rich amber hue. The most exciting addition to the meal. She hands out the sturdy mugs. The ale foams up to the brim, a few droplets spilling over the edges and onto the table.

“Thank you pretty lady.” Denki shoots a charming smile at the barmaid, earning a laugh from her. She waves him off before going back to tend the busy bar. The impatient one, Bakugou, grabbed a turkey leg first, tearing into the tender meat with a satisfied grunt. Kirishima and Mina followed suit, each reaching for a leg of their own. In turn, Sero and Denki dove into the bread, slathering it with butter and passing around the baked potatoes.

They settle into the warmth of the inn, enjoying the hearty meal. Laughter filled the air as they recounted the day's journey, from the close calls during their journey to Denki’s less-than-graceful attempt at flirting with the local from earlier. Bakugou, as usual, mostly grunted in response, too focused on his food and drink to indulge in much conversation. As the night wore on, the group began to grow tired. They’ve satisfied their hunger and now it’s time to turn to other needs. Kirishima stretched and let out a loud yawn, his dragon scales glinting in the firelight. "Alright, I’m beat. Think I’ll hit the hay."

Mina nods, agreeing with Kirishima’s words. She pushes herself off the chair and straightens up, “Busy day tomorrow, we should all get some rest.” The other two members rise from their seats except for one. Bakugou stays in his seat, looking down at his ale. Admiring the deep amber colour. It looks rich and inviting under the flickering light of the hearth. A thick, frothy head crowned the top, with bubbles rising lazily to the surface, creating a satisfying hiss as they popped. The ale clung to the sides of the sturdy wooden mug as Bakugou tilted it slightly, leaving a thin, foamy residue in its wake.

“I’ll be here a while longer,” Bakugou doesn’t look up, “Don’t wait up for me.” He tosses the keys onto the table, keeping the spare for himself. Usually, he’d be the first to hit the sack. Always emphasising on the importance of sleep for the body. But his comrades already know the reason for the sudden change. He needs to be alone. Denki and Sero exchange a glance.

"Don’t stay up too late, Bakugou," Denki teased, slapping the barbarian on the back as he walked past. "We need you in top form tomorrow." As he skips over to Denki, Sero manages to ruffle Bakugou’s hair. Not that it changed much, it’s still a mess.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, taking another swig of ale. "Just.. get outta here." He doesn’t have the energy to be foul. The others laughed as they headed upstairs, leaving Bakugou alone at the table. He leans back in his chair, savouring the quiet and the last few bites of his meal. The inn had began to empty out, with only a few patrons lingering near the bar, their voices low as they finished their drinks.

He stays in his seat, lost in thought, with his pint of ale. Mindlessly watching people leave the tavern, lost in thought. Warmth spreads through Bakugou's chest as he takes a long sip. There was a subtle sweetness from the roasted barley, balanced by a hint of bitterness from the hops that lingered pleasantly on his tongue. The finish is smooth, with a slightly smoky aftertaste, leaving a satisfying sensation that made him reach for another sip almost immediately.

Just as Bakugou was about to take a sip, a figure approached his table. It’s a bard, a lithe man with a lute slung across his back and a curious glint in his eye. He wears a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a single feather, and his fingers were adorned with rings that glinted in the firelight. Bakugou has the intention to ignore the man, he isn’t in the mood for company. Especially from some halfwit in a dumb hat.

The bard gives Bakugou a respectful nod before speaking. “Mind if I join you for a moment, sir?”

Bakugou looks the bard up and down with an unreadable expression. “I do mind, now fuck off.” he gruffly replies as he takes a sip of his ale, “Go bother someone else.”

The bard’s smile remains steady, unruffled by Bakugou's gruff tone. "Forgive me for intruding," he speaks, his eyes twinkling with genuine curiosity. "I couldn’t help but notice you and your companions earlier. You strike me as a man with stories to tell, and I’m always on the lookout for inspiration for my songs. Care to share a tale or two?" His gaze is earnest, carefully assessing Bakugou’s mood, hoping to coax a story from the reluctant barbarian.

Bakugou leans back, grumbling as he takes another swig of ale. "I don’t tell stories. It’s not my thing."

The bard chuckles softly, sliding into a chair without waiting for an invitation. "Everyone has a story, even those who claim otherwise. Perhaps a tale of a great battle, or a quest that brought you to this town? A man like you must have seen his share of adventure."

Bakugou’s eyes narrow, studying the bard. His instinct is to brush off the intrusion, but something about the bard’s easy confidence and genuine curiosity makes him pause. Maybe it was the warmth of the ale or the unusual openness of the evening, but Bakugou found himself surprisingly open to the conversation. He did have a story— one that weighed heavily on him.

"Why do you care?" Bakugou asks, surprised by his own willingness to engage. On any other night, he’d have tossed the bard out or shouted him away.

The bard shrugs, resting his elbows on the table with an air of quiet conviction. "Stories are what keep us alive. They remind us of where we’ve been, what we’ve survived, and inspire others to forge their own paths. Besides," he adds with a grin, "I have a feeling your story is one worth hearing."

Bakugou is silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. He thinks back to all the battles he had fought, the friends he had made, the enemies he had faced. He isn’t one to dwell on the past, but he couldn’t deny that his life had been anything but ordinary. Especially with the most recent chapter of his story: you.

Finally, he sets his mug down with a decisive thud and meets the bard’s gaze. Perhaps the ale has made him loose-lipped. "Alright, I’ll tell you one story. But just one. Don’t expect me to get all sentimental or anything.”

“I met a woman, her name was …”

Your name was scribbled on the back of a map. That was Bakugou’s first introduction to you. He scowled down at what was supposed to be an intricately drawn parchment, then back up at the merchant. “You’re telling me this costs eighty gold and twenty silver?” His teeth clenched, barely containing his frustration at the absurd price. This flimsy, poorly drawn map isn’t worth half that. The barbarian’s patience was wearing thin—this was the twentieth merchant he’d approached in search of this damned map, and all he had to show for it was what looked like a cheap knock-off.

They were hunting for the map of Niniel’s Veil, an ancient, mysterious elven forest known for its dense, enchanted woods. Those who dared venture into it often wandered lost for years, if they ever returned at all. Information about the Veil was scarce, and what little existed was shrouded in myth and legend. All most people knew about was how difficult it was to go in and out of the forest alive. Bakugou was furious to find that after all this effort, all he was offered was this questionable scrap of parchment.

Niniel’s Veil was more than just a forest—it was a vast, sprawling labyrinth of nature. A forest shrouded in ancient magic and mystery, its reputation known far and wide as both a place of wonder and peril. The towering trees, with trunks as wide as castle towers, reached impossibly high, their dense canopies weaving together like an impenetrable tapestry of leaves and branches. The forest floor was an entanglement of twisted roots and thick underbrush, where sunlight barely penetrated, casting the entire woodland in perpetual twilight. Swallowing anyone who dared to enter. Every step inside the Veil felt like stepping into another world, where the air was thick with the scent of moss and the whisper of ancient secrets carried on the wind.

This forest had once been the sacred domain of elven ancestors, a place of refuge and mystery. It was said that within its depths lay countless treasures and artefacts, hidden away by those ancient elves who had stolen them in times of war and turmoil. The promise of these lost relics had lured many adventurers into the forest, but few had ever returned. Those who did spoke of twisted paths that led them in circles, illusions that played tricks on their minds, and creatures that seemed to be made of the very shadows that filled the Veil.

For Bakugou, entering Niniel’s Veil was not a choice but a necessity. He needed to find a lost piece of his draconic artefact, a relic of immense power that had been passed down through his family for generations. Without it, the artefact was incomplete. The artefact was not just a tool; it was a part of him, tied to his very identity and strength. The thought of it being lost forever gnawed at him, driving him to desperation. It’s been left missing for too long and he intended to do something about it.

He stared at the map in his hands, frustration and doubt warring within him. This map was his best chance of navigating the cursed forest, but its authenticity was questionable, and the price was absurd. Eighty gold and twenty silver for a flimsy piece of parchment that might not even be accurate? It felt like a cruel joke after all he had gone through.

But the alternative was wandering the Veil blind, with nothing but his instincts to guide him. The thought of spending years lost in the forest, of never finding the artefact, made his stomach twist. The merchant watched him carefully, sensing his hesitation, but Bakugou was too focused on his internal debate to notice. As he reached for his coin pouch, a pink hand halted him from doing so.

Mina crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently as she watched Bakugou wrestle with the decision. The merchant’s smug grin only made her more irritated. Eighty gold and twenty silver for a flimsy map? It was a rip-off, and she wasn’t about to let her friend get swindled.

“Bakugou, we’re not paying that,” she said firmly, stepping forward. She shot a glare at the merchant. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, drawing the attention of the entire group. “This is daylight robbery, and you know it. We’re leaving.”

Bakugou’s eyes peeked to her before shoving her arm off him. The ever-present scowl on his face tightened. He was not in the mood. “Mina, we need this map. I don’t have time to play around.”

Mina grumbled under her breath, thinking of the possible choices they could make. That is until she takes another good look at the map. She squints at the name, puzzling over each letter. That name scribbled on the map. It's an obviously forged signature of the true creator of the map. But it seems so awfully familiar. The name. Where has she heard it before?

All of the sudden, it clicks in her head. “Thanks for your offer but we’ll have to say no!” Mina stepped in abruptly.

What was she thinking? They needed that map to better their chances of going through the damned forest. Bakugou was about to bark at her but she cut him off. Without waiting for further argument, she grabbed Bakugou’s arm and yanked him away from the counter. “Come on, guys. We’re out of here.”

“What the hell Mina? We needed that map!” Bakugou barked, fighting Mina as she dragged him out of the shop.

Sero was the first to react, a grin spreading across his face as he watched the scene unfold. “Guess that’s that, then,” he said with a shrug, casually following Mina’s lead. He was more amused than anything, enjoying the way Mina took charge. “Gotta admit, it was a pretty steep price for a piece of paper.”

Denki, on the other hand, looked a bit disappointed. “But what if that was the only map?” he protested, jogging to keep up as Mina pulled them out of the shop. “We might have just walked away from our best chance!”

“Or we just saved a ton of money,” Sero countered with a laugh, clapping Denki on the back. “Relax, Denks. We’ll find another way.”

Kirishima looked between Mina and Bakugou, his expression torn. “Mina’s right, Bakugou. That map didn’t even look legit. I know you’re desperate, but we’ve been through worse without needing to pay through the nose for something like that.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t resist as Mina practically dragged him out of the merchant’s shop. He hated to admit it, but Kirishima and Mina had a point. The map was overpriced, and there was no guarantee it was even real. Still, the thought of wasting more time searching for another lead made his blood boil. He was a man of action, and every delay felt like another step further from his goal.

Once they were outside, Mina finally let go of his arm and spun around to face the group. “Look, I have a better plan. I know how to get the actual map!” She seemed confident. It raised some eyebrows. What did Mina have up her sleeve to guarantee a rare map?

Bakugou glared at her, his frustration evident, but there was no real anger behind it. “You better be right about this, Mina,” he muttered.

As the group walked away from the merchant, Mina could feel the tension still radiating off Bakugou. She knew how important this quest was to him, but she also knew something that the others didn’t. With a sly smile, she stopped the group and turned to face them.

“I didn’t mention this before because I only just realised it, but I actually know the author behind that map.” Mina began, catching their attention. “I took a good look at that dumb, fake-ass map and recognised the name on the back.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed. “You what?”

A few months ago, the others had been busy with their own tasks— Bakugou training with Kirishima, Denki and Sero fooling around in the market— Mina had taken some time to explore the outskirts of a small town they’d passed through. She hadn’t meant to wander too far, but something had drawn her deeper into the woods until she stumbled upon a naturally formed dungeon hidden beneath a thick canopy of trees. The entrance had been nearly invisible, covered in moss and overgrown vines, but she’d caught sight of it and felt an irresistible urge to investigate.

Inside, the air had been cool and damp, the walls of the dungeon shimmering with faint traces of ancient magic. As she ventured further, she heard a weak voice calling for help. Instinctively, she followed the sound until she found a small chamber, where a person was slumped against the wall, barely conscious. Their mana and health were dangerously low, and it was clear they wouldn’t survive much longer without assistance.

Mina had acted quickly, using what little healing magic she knew and offering her own supplies to help the stranger recover. As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a connection to this mysterious individual, and when they finally regained consciousness, she was shocked to learn their identity. The person she had saved was none other than one of the most renowned cartographers in the land, famous for their unparalleled skill in mapping even the most treacherous and unknown territories.

Grateful for her help, the cartographer had offered Mina a unique artefact as a token of thanks—a small, intricately carved crystal pendant. It glowed with a soft, blue light, and the cartographer explained that it was enchanted to allow them to communicate with Mina at any time, no matter the distance. “You’ve shown kindness when you had no obligation to,” the cartographer had said, placing the pendant in her hand. “If ever you need guidance or help, you need only call, and I will answer.”

Sero whistled, clearly impressed. “You’ve been holding out on us, Mina. That’s one heck of a connection.”

Bakugou’s frustration began to ease as he listened, his interest piqued. “And you think this cartographer can get us a real map of Niniel’s Veil?”

Mina nodded confidently. “Absolutely. If anyone can, it’s her. And since I helped her out, she’ll probably do it for a fraction of what that greedy merchant was asking. Or maybe even for free.”

Bakugou finally let out a sigh, nodding in approval. “Fine. Contact her. But this better work.”

Without wasting any more time, Mina reached into her pouch and pulled out the crystal pendant. It was a small, clear gem that glowed faintly with a soft, bluish light. Holding it in her hand, she whispered a few words, and the crystal began to hum gently, a sign that the connection had been made. The blue light pulsed gently as the magic connected, and soon a voice came through, calm and familiar.

“Your name and what you need?” the voice asked, tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Mina smiled, her fingers tracing the edges of the pendant. “Hey, this is Mina from a few months ago.”

There was a brief pause, then a soft chuckle. “Ah, yes, I do remember you. Calling for a favour?”

Mina nodded, even though the cartographer couldn’t see her. “So, I need a map for Niniel’s Veil. Could you get me that?”

The line went silent, the only sound the faint crackling of magic in the air. Mina’s heart skipped a beat as she waited, anxiety creeping in as the seconds ticked by.

Finally, the voice spoke again, steady and thoughtful. “Where are you currently?”

Mina quickly glanced around at her friends, who were watching her intently. “Oh, um—we’re at the town of Leford.”

There was a pause, then the cartographer’s voice returned, sounding pleased. “How fortunate, I’m in Khela. I’ll go over to Leford tomorrow. Let’s meet, Mina.”

Mina’s face lit up with excitement. “Really? That’s great!” She could hardly believe her luck, and her grip on the pendant tightened in gratitude.

“Don’t mention it,” the cartographer replied, their tone warm and reassuring. “See you then, Mina.”

Mina exhaled, feeling a wave of relief wash over her as the connection faded and the pendant dimmed. She tucked it back under her shirt, looking up at her friends with a triumphant smile.

“Looks like we’re meeting her tomorrow,” she said, her voice brimming with confidence.

Bakugou gave a satisfied nod, and Kirishima patted her on the back, beaming with pride. “You really pulled through, Mina. Thanks.”

Sero grinned and Denki let out a whoop of excitement, the tension from earlier completely dissipated. They had a plan, and thanks to Mina, they were one step closer to finding the path through Niniel’s Veil.

You look down at the pendant in your hand, watching the soft blue glow fade away. The magic within it settles, leaving only the cool touch of the crystal against your skin. You turn back to the view of Khela, the prosperous town sprawling before you, its beauty tinged with the golden light of the setting sun. You had just finished your business here, so Mina's call was perfectly timed.

Niniel’s Veil. The name stirs something deep within you, a mixture of pride and apprehension. Your mind drifts back to that forest, the memories of navigating its treacherous paths still vivid. That place was hell to map— an ever-shifting labyrinth of ancient trees and hidden dangers. It had taken you and your father five long years to chart every inch of it, and even then, the forest had resisted your efforts, as if it had a will of its own.

Being a cartographer wasn’t just a profession for you; it was a legacy, woven into the very fabric of your being. From the moment you turned ten, your father had taken you under his wing, guiding you through countless expeditions, teaching you the secrets of the trade. Every line on a map, every curve and symbol, held a story—a story your father had passed down to you.

Your thoughts shift to Mina’s request. Niniel’s Veil. It’s not a place one simply wanders through with just a map in hand. You know this all too well. The forest was a living entity, a place where the unwary could lose themselves for years, or forever. Sending them in with nothing more than a piece of parchment would be a death sentence. And after what Mina did for you— saving your life when you were at your weakest— there’s no way you could let that happen. Besides that, you knew your principles wouldn’t allow you to abandon them like that.

Your conscience won’t allow it. You owe her more than just a map. You owe her your guidance, your expertise. She and her companions would need more than directions; they’d need someone who knew the forest’s secrets, who could navigate its shifting trails and hidden perils. With a resolute nod, you make up your mind. You’ll be their guide through Niniel’s Veil. But first, you’ll have to convince them to accept your help.

When you arrived at the inn in Leford, you found Mina and her companions huddled around a large wooden table, deep in conversation. Their chatter halted the moment you stepped closer, their eyes flicking to the pendant hanging around your neck—the very one Mina had described to them. You could feel their wariness, especially from the blond barbarian who fixed you with a hard, scrutinising stare, as if he were already imagining how he might take you down if needed.

“So, you must be the cartographer,” Kirishima said with a friendly grin, his dragon-like features softened by his genuine warmth.

Bakugou, however, was more reserved, his sharp eyes sizing you up. “You got the map?” he asked, cutting straight to the point.

You nodded, but before you could reach for your satchel, you raised a hand to pause them. “I do have the map, but… I’m not just here to hand it over.”

That got their attention. Bakugou’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Sero tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?” Sero asked.

You gave them a small, knowing smile as you pulled up a chair, sitting down without waiting for an invitation. “Are you guys really planning to brave Niniel’s Veil with just a map?”

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you. “What’s it to you?”

You chuckled, leaning back casually in your chair. “Everything. That forest is no joke. I know because I’m the one who mapped it. If you think you can just waltz in there with a piece of parchment and come out in one piece, you’re either fools or far too brave for your own good.”

Mina shot Bakugou a look, clearly trying to defuse the tension. “We appreciate the concern, really, but we’ve been through a lot together. We can handle it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt your abilities,” you said, your tone still light but with an edge of seriousness. “But Niniel’s Veil isn’t like anything you’ve faced before. That forest has a mind of its own. It twists and changes to trap you, to keep you lost. I’ve seen seasoned adventurers disappear there, never to be seen again. And frankly, I’d rather not add your names to that list.”

Denki looked a little nervous at your words, glancing at his friends for reassurance. “So, what are you saying? That we’re doomed?”

“Not doomed,” you replied, waving off his concern with a smirk. “Just…in over your heads. Which is why I’m offering to be your guide.”

Kirishima leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What’s the catch? People don’t just offer to lead groups into dangerous forests for fun.”

You shrugged, pretending to think it over. “Well, I could ask for some gold, but honestly, this is more of a personal matter. I don’t like seeing good people get themselves killed when it can be avoided. Plus, Mina here did save my life, so I figure I owe her one.”

Mina blushed slightly at the mention of her good deed, while Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “We don’t need charity,” he growled.

“Who said anything about charity?” you countered, meeting his glare with a challenging look. “This is about survival. You need someone who knows that forest inside and out. Someone who’s already spent years mapping its every inch. Like I said, you can try it on your own, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The group exchanged glances, each of them weighing your words. Finally, it was Bakugou who broke the silence, his voice gruff but grudgingly accepting. “Fine. But if you slow us down, you’re on your own.”

You chuckled again, nodding. “Fair enough. Just try to keep up, and we’ll get along just fine.” You could tell your words struck a nerve with Bakugou—no one tells him to keep up. With a smirk, you tossed the rolled-up map across the table to him, watching as he caught it and unrolled the parchment. The group crowded around the map, eager to take a look.

The moment Bakugou spread out the map, the difference was clear. The shoddy, overpriced map the merchant had tried to sell them was nothing compared to this. Your work was meticulous and precise, every detail painstakingly drawn. The map was likely the best they had ever seen, a masterpiece of cartography. Bakugou’s scowl softened as he took in the craftsmanship, a flicker of something like respect in his eyes. He was relieved they hadn’t wasted their gold on that flimsy knock-off.

“Looks like you really know your stuff,” Kirishima commented, impressed, to which you slightly nodded.

Bakugou said nothing, but his silence was telling. His crimson eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, scrutinising every inch of your expression as if trying to find a crack in your resolve. But the map in his hands, its detailed lines and intricate markings, spoke louder than any words could. He might not admit it, but the quality of your work had earned his grudging respect. For someone like him, that was saying something.

With a huff, he rolled the map up and rose from his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “We’re leaving at first light. Don’t be late,” he grumbled, his tone more of an order than a suggestion. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the stairs leading up to the rooms, his heavy boots thudding with each step.

As Bakugou disappeared from view, the atmosphere around the table shifted. The rest of the group visibly relaxed, the tension that Bakugou’s presence often brought fading away. Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t mind him. That’s just how he is. He’s actually a good guy—just takes a while to warm up.”

Sero leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, once you get past the scowl and the growling, he’s practically a teddy bear. A really, really angry teddy bear.” Denki snickered, nodding in agreement. “Just don’t tell him I said that. I like my head attached to my shoulders.”

Mina, ever the peacemaker, smiled warmly at you. “He’s right to be cautious, though. We’ve been through a lot together, and he’s just looking out for us. But I’m glad you’re here. I think we’re going to need all the help we can get in Niniel’s Veil.”

You couldn’t help but appreciate their camaraderie, the easy banter and the unspoken trust that bound them together. It was clear that they had faced their fair share of challenges, and the way they talked about Bakugou revealed a depth of loyalty that went beyond mere friendship.

As the conversation flowed, they began sharing stories of their past adventures, tales of battles fought and enemies vanquished, of close calls and hard-won victories. Each story painted a picture of a group that had seen the worst the world had to offer and come out stronger for it. You listened intently, absorbing their words, getting a feel for the dynamics at play.

But amidst the laughter and reminiscing, there was also a word of caution. Kirishima, his expression serious for once, leaned in and said, “Just one thing: Bakugou’s on a mission. It’s personal for him. He won’t tolerate anything—or anyone—that gets in his way. So just…be aware of that.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. They had told you briefly about their journey to Niniel’s Veil. The draconic artefact, the quest they were on—it wasn’t just about survival or adventure for Bakugou. It was about something deeper, something that drove him relentlessly. They didn’t really tell you details. You respected it quietly, not wanting to pry over something private.

Despite the thrill that tingled at the edge of your senses, there was a weight in your chest as you thought about Niniel’s Veil. The forest was no ordinary place—its dangers were real, its curse tangible. Returning there as a guide was a challenge that stirred something deep within you, but it was tempered by the sobering knowledge of what awaited. You knew the risks, the treacherous paths, the way the forest itself seemed to conspire against those who dared enter.

This wasn’t just another expedition. It was a test of survival, a journey where one wrong step could mean the difference between life and death. And yet, you had accepted the responsibility to lead them through it, to navigate the shifting shadows and ancient traps that had claimed countless lives before.

Tomorrow, at first light, the real journey would begin. You steeled yourself for the challenges ahead, knowing full well that what lay beyond the veil was as deadly as it was unknown. But this was your path now, and there was no turning back.

You had long grown accustomed to the early mornings, a discipline hammered into you by your father from a young age. He believed that a cartographer had to rise with the sun, to seize every bit of daylight for the work ahead. Expeditions didn’t wait for anyone, and neither did the maps that needed to be drawn. Over the years, waking before dawn became second nature, ingrained into your very being. So there you were, seated alone at a worn wooden table in the inn’s common room, the first rays of morning light filtering through the dusty windows.

You tore off a piece of buttered bread, savoring the simplicity of the meal as you waited. The inn was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old floorboards or the distant sounds of a town beginning to stir. It was a moment of solitude you had come to appreciate—a calm before the storm that was sure to follow once the others arrived.

Bakugou was the first to appear, his heavy boots thudding down the stairs. You glanced up from your breakfast as he entered the room, surprised to see him pause when he spotted you already seated. It was clear from the flicker in his eyes that he hadn’t expected you to be awake, let alone waiting. There was a brief moment of mutual acknowledgment—him noting your early rise, you noting his surprise.

“Hmph,” he grunted, more to himself than to you as he strode over to the table. “Didn’t think you’d be up before the sun.”

You shrugged, popping a bit of bread into your mouth. “Old habits die hard. Besides, I figured I’d give you lot some extra time to get your beauty sleep.”

Bakugou snorted, dropping into the chair across from you with a scowl. “We’re not here for pleasantries, so don’t think I’ll be impressed by your early wake-up calls.”

“Good,” you replied, leaning back in your chair with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to set any unrealistic expectations. But I’ll warn you—Niniel’s Veil won’t wait for anyone, not even you. Early starts might just save your hide.”

He narrowed his eyes as if he was weighing your words. “Just make sure you don’t slow us down. I’m not in the mood to babysit anyone.”

“Babysit?” you echoed with a laugh. “You’ve got it backward, Bakugou. I’m the one making sure you don’t wander off and get yourselves killed. That forest isn’t going to play nice just because you’re loud and stubborn.”

“Loud and stubborn gets results,” he snapped, but there was an edge of amusement in his tone. “But we’ll see if you’re as good as you say you are.”

You locked eyes with him, the challenge hanging in the air between you. “Oh, I’m good, alright. Just try to keep up.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension taut but strangely invigorating. Then Bakugou huffed, breaking the silence. “Don’t get cocky. We’ll see if you’re still talking like that when we’re deep in that cursed forest.”

You chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “I’ll be fine. Just worry about yourself, barbarian.”

Bakugou leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a grunt. Eyes glaring at you with a shadow of annoyance. “Tch. We’ll see. Sthyarli.”

The word rolled off his tongue with a sharp edge, his tone laced with disdain. It was clear he didn’t expect you to understand it, let alone respond. But you had spent years travelling the continent, picking up languages like a second skin. Draconic, while not your strongest, was one you had made sure to grasp. It was a necessity when mapping regions native to dragonborn. What began as a practical skill soon became a weapon in your arsenal. One you were now thankful for, if only to wipe that smug look off his face.

You scoffed, unimpressed by his attempt to catch you off guard. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

The surprise in his eyes was brief but unmistakable as your retort slipped out in his own tongue. “Tiamash.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening for a moment as the insult sank in. He hadn’t seen that coming, and for a split second, you caught the barest hint of respect mingled with the irritation in his gaze.

“Hmph,” he grunted, his voice low and dangerous. “Careful. You might just bite off more than you can chew.”

You grinned, unfazed. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Bakugou’s lips twitched as if he was fighting back a retort, but instead, he just shook his head, rising from his seat with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Keep running that mouth. Just don’t slow us down.”

As he turned away, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Matching wits with Bakugou might have been risky, but it was also undeniably rewarding. The tension lingered in the air as he stalked off, but it was clear that you had earned a small measure of his respect. There was a sense of mutual understanding between the two of you now—a recognition that while you might not be friends, there was respect born from the knowledge that the road ahead wouldn’t be easy for any of you. And as you sat there, finishing the last of your bread, you couldn’t help but think that perhaps this journey, dangerous as it was, might just be worth it.

next chapter

a/n: thats the first chapter, the next one will come next tuesday !! be ready for the next one @chocogoldie

sthyarli: idiot tiamash: asshole

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

#x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #x fem!reader #x female reader #x female y/n #barbarian bakugo x reader #barbarian bakugou #fantasy au #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #fantasy fanfic

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not-neverland06 · 6 days ago

Text

𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance.

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you.

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off.

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look.

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off.

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again.

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee.

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects.

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious.

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.”

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate.

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you.

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up.

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating.

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it.

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye.

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks.

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender.

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry.

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both.

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin.

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently.

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him.

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago.

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him.

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything.

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine.

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice.

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore.

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point.

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them.

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you.

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you.

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety.

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand.

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now.

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you.

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw.

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice.

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor.

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew.

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back.

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet.

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance.

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task.

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp.

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him.

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others.

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people.

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does.

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night.

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him.

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found.

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point.

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you.

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally.

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor.

“Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it.

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile.

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness.

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face.

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway.

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws.

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question.

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp.

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him. “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you.

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her.

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing.

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him.

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown.

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks.

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you.

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are.

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated.

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey.

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question.

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun.

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen.

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them.

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing.

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes.

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him.

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest.

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat.

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes.

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you.

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening.

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance.

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you.

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were.

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

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sugarmuseum · 2 months ago

Text

THE TRAITOR | N. JM

pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

genre: smut, horror, frat!au, halloween!au

summary: When your small town starts their annual -and intense– Halloween celebrations, you think there might be a case of mass hysteria as a witch hunt slowly rises when you caught the attention of the Founders, the campus elite members and their leader, Na Jaemin.

content warnings: minor age difference (Jaemin is 2 years older), explicit sex scenes, explicit lenguaje, mentions and descriptions of death and murder, drug and alcohol use, mentions of past torture (not to any principal characters), physical violence, lots of blood. MDNI!

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, slapping, spanking, squirting, minor breeding kink, dirty talk and pet names so i don’t have to use y/n.

word count: 18.k+

Disclaimer: english is not my first language so if there’s any mistakes or misspelling i’m sorry! Happy halloween!

‘’I fucking love Halloween,’’ Lee Donghyuck almost screamed, winning a push from an annoyed Renjun behind him. He caught the attention of a group of sorority girls passing by, dressed as sexy witches, which looked at him giggling. ‘’I love this town.’’

‘’Here we go again,’’ Renjun sighed, knowing what’s about to come out of Hyuck's mouth— doing this same speech every year. But he decided to play along and entertained him while the rest of the group arrived. ’’What do you like?’’

‘’Everything! The spooky vibes, the parties! The girls in sexy costumes,’’ he listed with a smile, bating his eyelashes close to Renjun face, ’’especially the hot girls looking for a Founder to fuck.’’

Renjun groaned and pushed Hyuck again, rolling his eyes. ‘’Every time one of you call yourself that something dies inside me, I swear,'' he pinched the bridge of his nose, then went back to scanning the crowd for Jeno, Mark or even Ten, whoever might come to his rescue.

Hyuck looked at him porting a smug expressión. ‘’What about it? We are the Founders. And it’s not like you don’t enjoy the benefits, my lovely and cute Junnie.’’

‘’I didn't say that. I just implied you're annoying.’’

Before Renjun gives him the third push of the day, a figure joins them resting his hands on his shoulders from behind as a greeting. Jeno's head peeks between them and he frowns at Donghyuck.

''Are you already bothering Renjun this early,'' he asks and then turns at Renjun maintaining the same expression, ''and you shouldn't you be more patient as a future lawyer?''

''Jeno, are you on vice president duties already?'' A new voice jokes and everyone turns to Chenle, who appears making his way through the crowd. Used to the dynamics of his fraternity brothers, he is not surprised by the scene he encounters.

‘’Seems like it, yeah,’’ the handsome man says, ‘’since Jaemin is MIA.’’

Renjun frowns, pulling out his cell phone and checks the group chat, though there are no new messages. He hasn't seen Jaemin since this morning, actually. ''Where is everyone else? The opening of the haunted house is starting.''

''Mark is helping hang the last of the decorations in the backyard with Jisung,'' Jeno reminds them as the music drops a little and the sorority entrance lights up where Rosé, the president, takes the microphone. She's not alone, as her vice president is with her besides a bunch of other girls, dressed as witches. ‘’They’re putting in the last pumpkins and then they'll join us. I hope they hurry tho, I don't want to wait in line to get in.’’

''And where’s our leader?'' Chenle asks as he adjusts his black glasses, checking his cell phone too, reading several messages from girls asking to join them in the haunted house and ignoring it.

''Most likely stalking you-know-who,'' Renjun mutters with a sigh. He's not really listening to Rosé welcoming and talking about traditions, culture and witches, but his suspicions are confirmed when his gaze falls on you. ''Ah, yes, we definitely won't see him until later, much later.''

Donghyuck, Chenle and Jeno follow Renjun's line of sight, three more pairs of eyes landing on you, recognizing and examining you from afar in your cute witch outfit, hat and all. Even though the frat boys know you're banned by Jaemin's order, that doesn't mean they can't look at you, right? And tonight you look especially good, with your little black dress and those cute, innocent eyes looking especially bored too, making Renjun chuckle. You're so bad at pretending you want to be there.

''She looks so beautiful,'' Donghyuck laments, staring at your body as he has done so many other times and studying the way your striped stockings reach up to your thighs as an idea crosses his mind. ''Do you think Jaemin would share?''

Jeno snorts with a laugh. ''Fuck no,'' is quick to respond taking his eyes off of you for a second to raise an eyebrow in the direction of the major in Finance as he shakes his head. ''Definitely not with you, no.''

''You pulled the shortest stick out of all of us, Hyuck,'' Renjun comments with a satisfied smile watching his friend's face fall from his refusals and decides to give him a final stab. ‘’Maybe Jeno,'' he adds thoughtfully.

The named one neither denies nor affirms, maintaining a secret smile that makes Hyuck sulk more and mutter things like I'm gonna put my stick in your—

''Don't be like that just because Jaemin has a girlfriend and you don’t,'' Renjun scolds him, having fun at the expense of Lee Donghyuck's tantrum.

Chenle shrugs and while he had to admit you were gorgeous, there were more girls like that on campus at the disposal of any of them at all the parties they threw, eager to get not only an NCT brother but maybe a Founder. ''What's so special about her anyway?'' He asks aloud his thoughts.

He doesn't like you, actually. It’s not that you did something to him on purpose, he just doesn't click with you the few times you two shared a space, like going to the kitchen at a party and bumping into Chenle spilling his drink or the times he let you in at the frat and you stepped in his foot accidentally.

''You should ask Jaemin, he's been obsessed with her for months,'' Jeno replies, thinking about how many times his best friend had chased you around campus, parties and even sneaking into some of your classes since the first time he saw you. He knew his friend could be quite intense, so it didn't surprise him that he acted that way when something - or someone - got into his head.

‘’That’s what good pussy does to you,’’ Donghyuck offers simply, as if it were obvious.

''We don't really know her, she's an outsider,'' Chenle continues, looking at you through his dark glasses with a sense of distrust that has him frowning. ''I don't get it.''

Renjun and Jeno shared a look, knowing that Chenle was one of the firmest believers about the family traditions they shared and that if things were to get more serious - as it seemed - with a girl outside their circle he was going to be the talk of not only the campus, but the entire town. And their families.

Neither of them said more on the subject, but they had to admit that Chenle was right. The girl who had stolen Jaemin was a newcomer with no legacy or social presence in the town or university. And that would be a problem, sooner or later.

You sighed as you reluctantly put on your black pointy hat, joining Yuna and Jia, who were wearing witch outfits similar to yours. A small crowd was gathering in your sorority area for the opening of the annual Witch Haunted Hunt, their activities to participate in the town's Halloween schedule. This year they were going to have a haunted house and sisters like you had been decorating the days before.

''I can't believe I'm doing this,'' you mumbled so the president, Rosé, wouldn't hear, even if she was busy talking into the microphone. That girl had sensors all over her body to identify pledges and sisters complaining. ''I feel like a idiot.''

''Hey! You said you weren't going to complain anymore,'' Jia reminded you in a hushed whisper, giving you a little nudge to shut you up while she had her attention on Rosé. ''Sshhhhh!’’

You moved your body a little to avoid her elbow as you continued to speak between clenched teeth. ''That was before they made us witches. It's like being an Elf on Christmas, but instead some kid is going to see me on the street and egg me on, I just know it,'' you sighed, pressing your lips together.

''What?'' Yuna asked in confusion, side-eyeing you from your right side. ''What are you talking about?’’

''Well... we're in a town that hates witches and the kids have grown up with that propaganda. It's only a matter of time before some of them put together an army and decide to do justice and put it on TikTok,’’ you explained.

''Being a witch is quite an honor in our sorority! We are the protagonists,'' Jia muttered trying to keep her face composed and not laugh. ''It's an ancient tradition and should be respected. Shush, babe!''

‘’Shush the non-believer!’’ Yuna whispered into your ear, laughing and pinching your ass making you jump and yelp, turning and staring at her accusingly, frowning when another sister shushed the both of you.

The town where you lived was nationally known as a major site of recorded witch trials and killings over three hundred years ago. Generations and generations had spent growing up with that scar on the town's history and over time they began to use the town's folklore as a tourist attraction.

You didn't know how intense it was until you moved in as a teenager a few years ago with your mother, it was like the town turned upside down when October came around. The short time you had spent there you had heard everything from legends to scare children and rumors about ghosts lurking from the witches that burned in the woods, to beliefs that the town had been cursed by said witches and you had been surprised to learn that some of those stories not only scared adults but that they believed it.

And you also witnessed how the descendants of the founders still controlled the place.

Owners of buildings, stores, the hospital, even politicians, the descendants of the wealthy and exclusive original founder’s families were considered royalty with a legacy that stretched through all the branches of their family tree and were still as powerful as... Well, ever. And they were the ones who for decades had been powering the Season of the Witch during the month of Halloween, filling the town with tourists, attractions and a lot of town spirit and effort to entertain their visitors. Although it had become a more commercial thing that attracted many tourists, that did not mean that the people who lived there were not in fact superstitious, because they were. Which never ceased to amaze you to this day.

You could have sworn there was satisfaction in some eyes when you once watched as they reenacted the trials with volunteer actors in the central square and the witch was sent to the stake while the high school choir and band musicalized the bizarre scene.

''You people and your obsession with witches, I swear,'' you groaned in exhaustion. Having been chosen as part of the sorority group of witches, your schedule was full of activities, like posing at the haunted house opening, selling tickets for that, making sure no one trashed the decorations around the building and keeping an eye on the festivities in general while looking cute. You were like a car model but make it witchy. And kinda objectifying.

''Maybe that's the reason why Jaemin won't stop staring at you,'' Yuna said quietly, trying to dissimulate the conversation the three of you were sharing. When you heard her you turned your attention back to the audience and it only took you a few seconds to scan it until you found his piercing stare fixed on you. When their eyes met he smiled at you slowly, showing all of his perfectly sharp teeth. ''He seems obsessed with a certain little witch.''

Na Jaemin was the golden boy of the town and one of the descendants of the founders. He came from generations and generations of politicians and his father was currently the beloved town mayor, occupying the office until his son was ready to take his place in a few years and carry on the tradition as his ancestors had done before. No one challenged the Na's monopoly of power at elections simply because no one else was running for it. Nobody dared. They just let them win over and over again.

That was the way things were and the way it worked there. Jaemin happily participated in all the town's activities with a smile and a face that made everyone sigh with love. There was no one who could resist his charm and personality. Were there any homeless dogs? He would organize a responsible adoption day. An elderly neighbor needed help with his yard? No problem, he would mow the lawn himself without breaking a sweat and campaign for other neighbors to join in taking care of the senior's yard.

You heard thousands of rumors about him from girl's gossip too. He had a fame since highschool of a brutal fuckboy with a big cock who will destroy pretty girls and that image just grew more intensely when Jaemin matured more and became a man. Did you need tutoring? He would offer, of course, and then politely say goodbye after fucking you against a corner of the library.

Well, in fact all that side of his reputation was over since the day both had officially met.

Actually, you knew who Jaemin was because he was graduating when you entered high school for your last two years and he had a fan club that lived and talked about him in class composed of your classmates, depressed that they could no longer see him every day in the hallways, the cafeteria or at play field making the team win. He was a celebrity at school along with his friends. You had seen him a couple of times in the hallways and noticed his heavy gaze on you on many occasions, but you didn't expect any movement from Jaemin. At all. After all, you were an inexperienced kid compared to the popular, pretty cheerleaders girls he fucked- you didn't think he had that type on interest in you. Maybe he was looking at you because you were the new girl and that's it. You had paid more attention to other things, like studying and making friends - Yuna and Jia occupying that last position.

Jaemin had a whole group of friends who were known to be from founding families who settled the colony that grew into a town and hence the origin of the nickname people gave them, the Founders. They were the heirs, part of such an intimate circle that it was impossible to enter or leave. Obviously everyone wanted to interact with them, be their friend, cheer them on at their games, girls threw themselves at their feet- anyone wanted a piece of them. Invitations to parties, free booze and drugs- you name it, it was given to them. Shit, even the candy store downtown would give them a free bag every now and then.

They moved their reign from high school to college smoothly and effortlessly, and Jaemin had been handed the throne on a silver platter - the presidency of the NCT frat - thanks to Taeyong, who was graduating with honors and an incredible future thanks to the scholarship Jaemin's dad had given him.

To the neighbors he was a kind and charismatic guy, but you saw his other face, more intense but real, relaxed. Especially in those moments when he managed to capture you when you least expected it (or in fact you did, and hope for it), just like now- taken to an empty classroom where no one would interrupt. When both of you were together it was as if you could see him and not Na Jaemin, the leader of the Founders.

And the rumors turned out to be true. He fucked like a demon.

Jaemin smiles at you with hungry, dark eyes after closing the door behind him. ‘’Aren't you the prettiest thing?‘’ He said after sliding each of his hands on your waist and sitting you on the desk. He lifts some fingers and gently tugs the front of your hat until it falls in your field of vision. "Baby, I think you just bewitched me."

‘’Stooop,’’ you whined with a laugh, tapping on his hands away but not really, ’’you’re gonna mess up my hat and then Rosé it’s gonna scold me.’’

‘’Awwww, baby,’’ he cooed at you in a fake sweet tone, even pouting and ignoring how you try to get away from him. Instead, he cages you against the desk with his body with one firm push, both hands grabbing your thighs and squeezing them. ’’Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little dumb Rosé, don’t you? I’ll protect you,’’ he mocked you, parting your legs and positioning himself between.

Your relationship with Jaemin went from strangers who looked at each other in highschool curiously to insane rabbits fucking everytime they could. Jaemin didn't waste any time when you stepped foot on campus for your first year, giving you a invitiatión to your first frat party. The crazy, popular ones everyone knew were filled with descontrol and fun at the Neo Chi Theta frat. You were doubtful at first, not really trusting him and his friends- but your friends saw it as a golden ticket for you and them. But actually it took a whole more year for Jaemin chasing after you until you were his.

‘’Jaemin, I don’t think even you stand a chance against my stressed sorority president,’’ you pointed and the brown haired man laughs huskily in your neck as he starts kissing it and biting- your body reacting at the feel of his mouth on you. ’’Not to mention Jia and Yuna will join too, they think this costume is sacred or something.’’

And oh boy, how stressed Rosé was. The disastrous day started early, first with the weather- it rained a little bit out of nowhere and your sorority sisters runned around the whole place protecting the Halloween decorations. Then, the electricity went out- some light fuses or something exploiting in the basement. So Rosé became more hysterical, because that meant that there was no sound system: so no sound effects, no music and no microphone to use.

Luckingly for the entire sorority and Rosé state of mind, things became better: the power came back, the fusibles were replaced and everything went smoothly from there. But it was kinda strange, not happening ever before according to the maintenance staff who couldn't find an explanation of how it happened: the fusibles were brand new, just changed a few weeks ago.

‘’It is, it’s part of a large tradition,’’ he said while his big hands now grabs your tits so possesively with a grunt, his distractions are working-, ’’we take things seriously here, you still don’t understand that? I’ll show you.’’

You yelped for the second time of the day when you felt a tug in your dress followed by a sharp sound of fabric being ripped. You stared in incredulity at Jaemin while he rips your tiny dress from the neckline, liberating your breasts with a pleased, masculine groan. His long hands cupped your tits, holding them while his tongue slowly circles your nipples, hardening them before sucking them firmly, until they pop from his lips. In no time he’s having you moaning and tugging his hair while you rub against his cock, feeling it already hard in his pants. Jaemin makes a mess of saliva, slurping it and spitting again, giving you small bites and succions; marking the sensitive skin of your tits, knowing exactly how to make your pussy throb with desire.

‘’Fuck, baby, so fucking pretty,’’ he mumbled against your breasts, biting one of your nipples harder than before, making you complain with a high-pitched whine. His hand moved down your body to in between your legs, feeling your wet pussy through your panties totally messed up by your arousal. ‘’Acting all responsible and shit, being a brat but letting me do anything to you like the slut you are.’’

Your breath hitched as your heart races, unable to control your body's responses that are trained by Jaemin to obey him. More moistness soaked your thighs and you squirmed into his body, rubbing yourself with not a care in the world as you get a friction to your needy clit.

‘’But don't worry, I'm going to fuck that attitude out of you,'' Jaemin promised with a devilish smirk that makes you feel a hot sensation that thrills your belly with anticipation. Jaemin pulled away and crouched down, shoving your damp panties aside so he can spread your folds apart with his digits. He swiped them up and down, watching them cover your wet, glistening, pussy. ''This pretty, little pussy is all mine,'' he leaned into your dripping cunt, dying to taste you. His tongue traveled in its slow way, scooping up your slick in long, soft but firm licks that make you moan and claw at the edges of the desk. “So fucking messy and desperate.”

Jaemin keeps both hands spreading apart and gripping your thighs close to your chest as he devours you like a famished man, tasting, licking and sucking your pussy in the most filthy way. He moaned into your center and shoved his face deep to your pussy, showering himself with your juices. His tongue circled over your clit and wrapped his lips around it, sucking it and causing your hips to grind against it, fucking his face.

‘’Jaemin, please, more,” you pleaded with a moan as he sucks harder, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing and getting more and more wet, your whole body burning with pleasure. You watched as Jaemin pulls away for a second, strands of saliva connect to your core, his lips, chin and nose looking glossy with your slick. He looked so fucking hot it almost hurts and as you stare at him you feel a wave of possessiveness making you even more horny... and wild. This man is mine, you thought in your cloudy mind.

His tongue shoved into your entrance, fucking you with it and then making you moan gripping his hair as his nose bumped at your clit with every push of his face, causing you to see stars and keep moaning his name.

''Jaemin- fuck, don't stop,'' you cried out with another moan, feeling the pleasure flood your body, aching to close your legs around Jaemin's head but he maintains an iron grip on your thighs, leaving marks in the form of fingerprints. ''It feels so good, please,” you spluttered.

“Please what? Use your big girl words,” he said, his voice rough as he licked his lips, coated in your wetness and savoring you again. Jaemin started lapping at your cunt so he can catch a new rush of arousal with his tongue. You remained silent, just whimpering and mumbling nonsense. “Are you so fucked up already that you can't even speak, dumb slut?

He spanked one of your thighs and returned to eating your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit in circular motions and then sucking on it until you scream his name. His words are true, you were drifting as your mind goes into black, slipping into that headspace where you don't think, you only feel. Jaemin is set to make you scream, thrusting two long fingers inside you up to his knuckles, stroking your velvet walls as he slowly pushes them in first, in and out. They reach so deep, Jaemin finding that spot that makes you squeal and lift your hips, trying to fuck his fingers.

He curved them in and keep stroking that sweet spot, your body tingling with pleasure, facing the ceiling in blankness, a rush of heat building up in your core.

''Fuck, right there,'' you gasped, blushing a little as you notice the wet, loud sounds your pussy make as Jaemin drives his fingers in hard and quick, ''Nana, fuck- I'm gonna cum-’'

''Cum,'' Jaemin ordered, mouth pressed against your clit, still sucking and licking around it, ''cum on my fingers like a good slut for me.'' He continued to relentlessly fingering you, inhaling and exhaling your scent as he feels you tighten around his fingers. ''Pussy so tight and greedy, wanted to be stuffed and used.’’

You screamed his name and hold on to the desk with all your strength as you feel the orgasm overtake you, leaving you so breathless and so fucking satisfied as Jaemin holds you down, preventing your hips from rising again. Your legs trembled and you whimpered as you realized Jaemin hasn't stopped his fingers.

‘'One more,’' he said as he slided his fingers into your dilated hole, curling them in and making you moan. Jaemin smiled against your lips, kissing you again and drowning out your sounds of protests.

''Jaemin-'', you started to beg again, but he shushed you, by kissing you and raising on top of you, covering you with his body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still a brat, huh?” His free hand covers your under belly and applies pressure, in a way that feels so fucking good. “Be a good girl and cum for me again, pretty slut.”

You felt the intense pleasure returning to flood you as his fingers do not stop. You moaned as you felt another climax rising, the overstimulation too much, squeezing around Jaemin's fingers as your hand finds one of his wrists and you hold on to it. Your eyes welled up with tears as you hided your face in the crook of Jaemin's neck, sensing your body so overwhelmed by so much delight and a little pain... that you snap.

‘’Fuck yeah, that's it,” Jaemin praised you as you cummed all over, squirting with a choked moan that sends you limp on the desk, ‘‘cumming like a good slut, making a fucking mess,’’ he smiled proudly, noticing how your legs are shaking and your breath is hitching.

Jaemin let you catch your breath as he sucked his fingers, not getting enough of your taste. His mouth covered your lips, this time kissing you slowly, adoringly, more tenderly, making your insides curl but this time with a different sensation. His hands caresses your legs, your sides and even your tits gently, bringing a smile to your face. Typical Jaemin, tearing you apart and then treating you like precious crystal.

He steped back, using what's left of the fabric of your shredded dress to wipe the rest of your cum from your thighs and pussy, your heart fluttering from his affection. Jaemin helped you into a sitting position, kissing you gently again and stroked your cheeks, observing the state of you that he has made. Your makeup was a mess, long smudges of your mascara, lips swollen from his kisses and marks covering your neck and chest, looking all fucked. So fucking cute, he thinks. Jaemins chuckled, when he noticed your long forgotten witch's hat lying on the floor.

‘’Are you okay, baby?” He asked before removing his hoodie and pulling on your naked figure, which suits you large and covering just above your thighs. You nodded with a hum, exhausted and happy after two orgasms. ''You've done so well for me, my pretty little witch.’’

''Please don't remind me,'' you sighed, thinking of the heart attack Rosé would have if she could see you like this. You cuddled Jaemin, searching for his neck with your cheek and rubbing yourself on it, your hand slowly cupped his erection in his pants, but then a big, sudden sound startled you both and makes you stop in your tracks... fireworks?

A few moments later the classroom door opened and you both saw Renjun storming in, his usually relaxed face looked a little frenetic. “We need to leave right fucking now, Jaemin,” he said, preferring to ignore the smell of sex: he's was too used to you fucking all over the place, and he had more important matters anyway.

‘'What's the matter? Renjun, what's wrong?'' The frat president asksed, motioning his body in a way that shielded you from his friend's view with alarm taking over his voice.

''Everything! The power at the frat house went out and the Jack-o'-lanters that Mark and Jisung put up exploded all over the place, all the way to the ceiling! They had to call the fucking fire department,'' Renjuns explained looking at his blowing up phone with the text messages coming. ''Ten and Johnny are downtown, apparently the city's Halloween sign blew up too or I don't know, but it caught on fire too and so did the decorations-''

''Fuck. Are they okay?’’ He asked and Renjun noded, looking unusually shaken. ‘’Okay, calm down,'' Jaemin tried to soothe his friend, then looked at you a bit confused and worried, ''what was that sound we heard earlier then? It's too far away from NCT here.''

Jaemin took out his muted phone, seeing so many messages from his brothers and his father too, calling him- fucking furious his precious and expensive sign is wrecked. Mark was on his texts, telling him that the fire department has extinguished the small fire on the roof, not major damage but Jisung was a bit freaked out.

“I don't know what the fuck happened, maybe something electrical,” Renjuns sighed, and continued to explain, “but something blew up in the sorority's haunted house and the power is out too.”

You hearded heavy, rushed footsteps down the hallway and a new figure entered the classroom to your utter fucking embarrassment, but at least it's not university staff, but Zhong Chenle with a mad look on his face and black glasses pushed up onto his head.

“Jaemin, someone set the witch dummy on fire!” He yelled.

One of the oldest traditions of the Neo Chi Theta frat was their kick-off Halloween celebrations, in which they would go into the woods on the first weekend of October, light a fire and burn a giant dummy, several feet tall and tie it to a giant stake dressed as a witch. It was a tradition that dated back a couple of generations, to the great-great-grandparents of the current Founders. Started by Jaemin's great-great-grandfather, in fact.

The witch's dummy would burn all night while the DJ played music and people partied.

But apparently this year's dummy had been set on fire before its time while still locked in storage and no one knew how that happened, however Chenle and Donghyuck suspected that perhaps it was the prank of someone who had a death wish. The confection of the stupid witch dummy had been in the works for weeks, so Doyoung had to order a new one and the party had obviously been delayed at least one more week, so he paid more to get it ready sooner. And even though it had been a number of days, the NCT residents were still furious.

''I don't understand what's going on, but things are going all wrong,'' Yuna sighed, examining you, who were sitting on the bed sewing up a part of her skirt that had been holed after catching on a nail sticking out of the door.

''Don't be silly, I'm about to finish and it's barely noticeable,'' you murmured, running the needle quickly through the shiny fabric, ''we'll make it to the party on time, you'll see,'' you comment in concentration.

''I don't think she's talking about her skirt, babe,'' Jia joined the conversation, finishing applying her makeup in front of the mirror and looking at you both through it. ''Rosé is furious, the whole opening was ruined. Good thing the guys were able to work out the dummy witch thing for tonight.''

''And the NCT house! Can you imagine if it had burned down? That's so scary,'' Yuna continued, getting up from her spot and scooting over to sit next to you. She rests her head on your shoulder, watching you continue sewing with a pout. ''Thank goodness no one got hurt.''

''Mmmm,'' you murmured not really listening and startle when your friend pokes your side playfully with a frown, wanting your attention. ''Ow! What was that for?'', you asked and examine your finger, which you pricked with the sewing needle.

''I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Let me see,'' she gasped your name regretfully, taking your hand and inspecting your finger carefully, feeling guilty. ''There's no bleeding,'' Yuna murmured, a little surprised after a few seconds of checking it.

‘’It didn't go that deep, don’t worry’’ you assured her, taking your finger into your mouth and sucking the tip anyways while giving back Yuna her skirt. ‘’I already finished, anyways.’’

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek, quickly putting her skirt back on. ‘’You're the best, thank you! Now... Do you think Chenle will like this outfit?” she asked, posing and pointing her ass at you.

You spanked her, making her squeal and you both let out a giggle, catching Jia's attention. ''I don't think Chenle likes anything but basketball,'' you blurted, leaning back on the bed, ''you should go for someone else. Maybe someone who isn't the personification of a sour candy.''

''Ohhhh, so you admit there's some sweetness in him,'' Yuna joked, winking at you and you faked a gag, rolling your eyes. ‘’Stop doing that! He's cute,'' she insisted, and even Jia looked at her in amusement. ‘’He is! Okay, you should be nice to him anyway, you know? He's Jaemin's friend and-’’

''One of the Founders, yeah, yeah, I know,'' you sighed, ''and he's important and you'll marry him someday,'' you continued, reciting the words Yuna convinced you two to memorize in support of manifesting for her. She nodded and Jia snorted, thinking her delusional friend is cute.

The party and dummy burn was tonight, so you were getting ready with your two friends in Jia's room. It was also the first time you were going, not joining things like this since you moved to the town, like any witches and trials bullshit. But this time Jaemin invited you and you couldn't say no to him- besides, you haven't seen him daily this week, like you've gotten accustomed to since you first met him. He was busy with frat stuff like the dummy and the exploding decorations in the house- Renjun thinking that somehow someone must have set off a firecracker as a stupid Halloween prank, and also with family matters like the reopening of a new Witch Season sign in town. That didn't mean you two didn't talk, actually facetiming and calling each other but it obviously wasn't the same. And you missed him a lot.

''Speaking of founders, I think I'll fuck Jeno tonight,'' Jia said thoughtfully as the three of you reached the woods, cars everywhere and groups of what you assumed were students yelling and cheering, some of them clearly already drunken.

''Okay,'' you started a little confused, guarding your steps even though there are pumpkin-shaped garlands of orange lights guiding the way, ''don't you do that every day? Like... you let him sleep in your room when NCT's roof caught on fire a few days ago.’’

''Yeah, but I haven't since then. I want to drive him crazy, you know? He still has not asked me out and we've been fucking for months,'' she sighed, but there is determination in his eyes when he looks at you. ''I want a relationship like yours, I want a Founder too, can you imagine? The three of us having a Founder. Everyone would envy us,'' Jia saids, and Yuna giggled and agreed.

You smiled and hope none of your friends can tell it's fake. Comments like that started to become habitual weeks ago and it makes you uncomfortable, especially when you sometimes feel your friends' jealous eyes on you and Jaemin when the two of you are together. When Jia and Yuna saw Jaemin's interest in you, they urged you towards him at every opportunity, helping him. At first you thought they were just being good friends, trying to help you pick up a hot guy. But deep down you knew they saw you as the key to a social circle: the Founders' circle. When things with Jaemin got more serious, each of them set their sights on a specific Founder, which turned out to be Jeno and Chenle.

Jeno and Chenle were of course interested, because Jia and Yuna were gorgeous, with nice bodies and amazing smiles, just two cute girls who could have whoever they wanted. But none of them acted like Jaemin had acted and instead they kept playing their own way, having girl after girl and partying and being the residents fuckboys of NCT. No settling down for now, but you know and your friends too know that at some point in the future they had to marry a good and worthy town girl. What better plan than to work towards that position now?

Your thoughts were broken when the three of you finally arrived and the first thing you spotted was the biggest fucking dummy ever seen. Almost like the old trees in the forest, a huge figure covered in a big dress and witch's hat, stuffed with dried leaves and straw so it could burn faster. It was not yet ignited, but you could see from afar the standing bodies of Doyoung and Jisung preparing it, pouring gasoline at its feet.

Yuna dragged you and Jia towards the movable bar where Donghyuck and Jeno are already drinking, screaming. “Let's get drunk!’’

You couldn't stop yourself to watch the dummy witch from time to time, thinking it looked kinda strange. This whole party felt like that, and you understand that it's a tradition but the meaning behind it is... problematic. The witches the town burned where innocent women persecuted for dumb reasons. And now people burned a giant dummy of one of them with a live DJ.

You losted your friends a while ago, Jia leaving with Jeno to God knows where and Yuna chasing Chenle who is more busy talking about the match they won last month with Jungwoo, another Neo Chi Theta brother. So you stayed quietly drinking for a while, checking your phone for a text from Jaemin. He had told you a little while ago that he was coming, but you hadn't seen him yet. Out of nowhere you felt a pair of hands come from behind and clutch your waist, causing you to jump. Jaemin chuckles behind you and draws you into his body, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck as he coos at you.

''What's got you so jumpy, mmh?''

''Nothing, you just scared me,'' you said as you turned around, bringing your arms to his neck and inspecting how he combed his hair, clearing his forehead. He looked so handsome to you, feeling the familiarity of his presence complete you. ''You look so handsome, Nana.''

He looked at you and grinned, that big tooth-filled grin that makes him look a little wild, but unbelievably cute. That's what his vibes were like.

''I've missed you so much, baby,'' he murmured, not wasting any more time, and kisses you. His hands traveled up and down your frame, ruffling your skirts with his hands. You felt the heat radiating from his body and you feel better than earlier, knowing he was with you, desiring nothing more than to climb him like a tree and devour him. ''Fuck, I'm going to have my time with you tonight, angel.''

''Hey you two lovebirds!'' Donghyuck's loud voice suddenly cuted in and he grabs Jaemin and pulls him away from you. ''We need our leader to start the fire, but don't worry, pretty girl,'' he says, smirking flirty at you, ‘’I’m gonna keep you compa- ow!’’

Donghyuck holded the spot where Jaemin punched him and stared at him, while Jaemin does the same to Hyuck until he throwed up his hands in surrender. You can't deny that you don't love seeing Jaemin like this, acting as the dominating leader and driving Hyuck away. Once you and Jaemin are back alone, he gived you another kiss and fiddled with a strand of your hair by wrapping it around his finger, tugging lightly to get your attention.

“Wait for me, okay? Don't you leave with nobody, I'm going to light the fucking dummy and come back quick,'' Jaemin saids using his ridiculous baby voice, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes giving him a soft shove.

''Yeah, go set that horrible thing on fire already,'' giving him another nudge as he pulled your strand of hair playfully, kissing you once again before leaving.

He smiled at you and turns away, moving through the crowd. Some people waving at him and several girls staring at him with interest. You'd felt jealous but you know Jaemin is yours and he's proved it, but you can't help thinking about them stopping their stares. You went to the bar again and Kun, the frats house bartender, poured you the special punch he prepared, a dark red drink with a fruity flavor and definitely a lot of vodka.

You were torn between ignore the dummy about to be burned or not, part of you wanted to see Jaemin in all his glory and power, and part of you wanted to not partake in this silly event. You saw part of the flickering garland of lights in the bar, drawing Kun's attention as well, but just at that moment your eyes are elsewhere as Yuna leaned on the bar with an annoyed expression.

“You were right. Chenle is a stupid ugly candy,'' she mumbled, and you followed her gaze fixed on the boy's form. He was still talking to Jungwoo, but now some pretty girls have joined in, and you recognized some of the cheerleading squad. Chenle grabbed one of them by the waist.

Yikes.

''I don't think I'd quite say that,'' you commented as you take a sip of your drink and then hand it to Yuna, who picks it up and chugs it all in one shot. You know your friend very well, so you already know how the storm that was brewing in her eyes would eventually end. Probably with lighting and rain. And some cheerleader being threatened. You weren't really sure Chenle could handle a storm like that, but you sure as hell didn't want to see that. Yikes again. “You know what? I think I have to go to the bathroom-''

''Wait, no! They're setting the dummy on fire! Look, there's Jaemin,'' she exclaimed, shifting her attitude and tugging you along with her. You see him, holding up a lit up torch and creepily everyone falls silent, almost as if they're holding their breath. ''He looks so good,'' she sighed dreamily. She doesn't seem to have noticed that she said it out loud, brushing herself off right away.

Even though the DJ stops the music, Yangyang is still with his headphones on and filming everything with his phone. All eyes turned to Jaemin, who was showing a serious face, escorted not far away by the other founding members. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny, Jeno, Renjun and even Chenle, who seems to have made it in time, all watch silently as their leader throwed down the torch and set the giant witch dummy on fire.

The dummy bursted into fire and the blaze consumes it so quickly that it rises up to the dummy's hat fast. The crowd erupted into a craziness as the music returns, creating an explosion of energy and cheering, everyone jumping up and down and singing the song that Yangyang remixes. You leaved without a word, feeling uneasy and a little pissed off at Yuna's words from earlier. You maked your way through the crowd to leave the center of the party. It was too much. You needed another drink, you think, drumming your fingers on the bar as Kun fixes you the same punch as before, but now in the dark after one of the garland lights burned out. Luckily they had a spare, which Jisung was setting up.

You saw Jia coming your way, looking a little drunk and her makeup not as perfect as when you saw her earlier. "Babe, I've been lookin' for you! We're having a private bonfire, are you coming?''

''This isn't the bonfire?'' You asked a little confused, signaling the burning dummy with your head.

''Yes, but the Founders are having a private one, Johnny brought good wine and Donghyuck has some blunts. We're gonna smoke and tell scary stories!''

''I don't know, Jaemin told me to wait for-'' you started but Jia doesn't listen to you, tangles his arm with yours and drags you, ''Jia!’’

''Relax babe, Jaemin is already there with the others,'' she assured you, and smiles at you.

You wrinkled your nose at your boyfriend when you reached him and see he's sitting on the ground near the small campfire, impatiently looking at you.

''See, your girlfriend is here,” Renjun said to him and Jaemin flashes his middle finger at him. The handsome leader hugs your legs once you're close to him and he pouted at you, his hands now caressing the back of your knees. ''I told you Jia was bringing her.''

''I'm sorry, angel. They pulled me in and wouldn't let me go, saying I'd get lost.''

''Aren't you like the leader or something?'' you said sarcastically, sitting on his lap. You hear a chorus of ''ohhhhhhhh!'' and laughter. Jaemin just smirks, removes his jacket and covers you with it, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You knew you're going to paid for that challenge later, and you hoped so. You loved it when he punished your brattiness.

You heard your name being called and you realize it’s Donghyuck, who’s lighting up a blunt and taking a hit of it. ‘’So, I know the perfect story for tonight. Tell me, you don’t know much about our town history, right?’’

You shaked your head and shrugged, ‘’I don’t, not really. Well, just the dumb witch stuff and all that.’’

“So you don't know the full story? Like, everything that happened,'' Marks asked as he helped Johnny pull some bottles of wine out of a box, ''the entire timeline and the crazy stuff.’’

''What's there to know, really? People went crazy with mass hysteria and religious paranoia. They took innocent women and burned them at the stake,'' you remarked feeling a little shy afterwards as you notice the silence that forms but speaking your mind- but you can't help being honest. Jaemin rubbed your thigh, reassuring you, and you relaxed against his chest.

''Yeah, but,'' Renjuns joined in, taking the joint Hyuck offers him, ''they weren't innocent, they actually cursed the town. Everyone knows it started when Sarah, the middle witch, had her poor, evil heart broken.''

''What do you mean?'' You frownew.

''Hyung, tell the story from the very beginning!'' Chenle told him excitedly, lighting a joint on his own and passing it to Jisung after blowing out the smoke.

‘’Yeah, hyung,’’ Jisung said, getting comfortable on the ground and sipping from Mark’s wine bottle. ‘’You always tell it so good.’’

Donghyuck smiled from the praises and waited until the rest find their places around the bonfire; Jia with Jeno, Johnny and Doyoung sitting next to each other and sharing a bottle of wine and Mark and Renjun on some old, falling tree serving as a chair.

‘’It all started when the mother of the seven girls died,‘’ Hyucks beggined to narrate. ‘’They lived in peace with other people, they were nice and all. The seven sisters were known in town for their beauty, but the middle one, Sarah, was on another level. Soft skin and shiny hair, eyes full of innocence,’’ he paused, eyes moving toward Jaemin. ‘’Of course it caught the attention of the widowed Mayor.’’

You sensed Jaemin tensing behind you, fingers tightening painfully against your belly and you caressed his hand, wanting to relax like he did before to you. It was a little weird knowing that a direct descent of that Mayor was cuddling you in his arms.

‘’His wife died one cold winter, so young just like him, so every girl in town wanted to take her place. Whorever, they didn’t stand a chance,’’ Hyuck said gloomily, ‘’he was bewitched with Sarah. That’s when everything started going to shit.’’

Everyone listened to him thoughtfully, you noticed, as the sounds of the party happening not far along fill the forest but are ignored by the Founders. They kept smoking and drinking, except for you, actually interested in listening to the whole story. Maybe it was the way Donghyuck was using his smooth, velvety voice, but it was alluring you nonetheless.

‘’First, the fresh milk went sour, but that could happen, right? It was the old times after all. But then, some women started getting sick and weak, worrying the entire town. The unmarried ones started losing hair and having nightmares, so they turned to their scared mothers and told them what was causing it: the seven sisters. They saw them looking wickedly at them one afternoon after service, smiling like angels while cursing the poor girls like demons.’’

‘’That’s so ridiculous’’, you laughed, interrupting him and shaking your head. ‘’They were clearly having an intense fólie a deux, and sure most of them even faking it.’’

Donghyuck and the rest ignored your comment except for Jaemin, who you felt smile against your nape. Chenle, on the other hand, hushed you, signaling the teller to continue. He did, taking a sip of the wine Doyoung passed him.

''So the men assembled one night and went to investigate. They went to the seven sisters' house, but it was deserted. Their things were all inside, so the men knew they must be somewhere else. But they weren't working on the small farm next to the house either, so they searched the woods. And that's where they found the witches,” he stopped again for a second, building suspense, ”they were dancing naked, singing in an unknown language and having a small bonfire in honor of the Devil. The smoke was red and they were laughing maniacally, some of them were even floating in the air, terrifying the group of men.''

''Then the town council held a meeting. They were sick of the witches and their spells, who were trying to bring ruin to the good people,'' Renjun interrupted knowing the story by heart and Hyucks whined at him, irritated by his intromision.

''The council?'' You asked and Jia muttered your name looking at you like you're dumb.

''The original founders, our past families,'' Doyoung explained as he opened another bottle of wine, ''commanded by their Reverend, of course.''

Mark remained silent, and you understan his lack of comment because there's gossip you heard after you arrived in town and Jia explained to you who was who. Apparently, well no, actually, Mark was a direct descendant of the first reverend, but he came from a bastard son. Obviously his ancestor had sacred vows and couldn't marry, but it didn't surprise you that he had sex. All men were hypocrites, especially in those days. However, he and his family were considered a Founder anyways.

''So they settled that it was time for a trial. The mayor at the time advocated for the sister's innocence and asked for fairness, so the reverend reassured him that they would do so, they knew how to determine if the girls were witches or not. But little did they know that the girls planned to escape after seeing how the town treated them, even beating one of them one afternoon here in the middle of the town's central square. Imagine how disappointed the mayor was with Sarah, his precious lover was a damned liar trying to run away,” the narrator shaked his head, ‘’but thankfully they were caught red-handed and the Mayor himself put Sarah in the dungeon,‘’ Hyuck proudly continued.

You saw something moving in the corner of your eye catching your attention and turning your head to see better, but there’s nothing more than darkness in the forest. Someone was sneaking up with a girl, maybe? You swear you heard crunching leaves or maybe a branch. You curled more into Jaemins body who mistaked the movement for cold or fright, giving you a worried look as he hugged you more tightly.

''So the trials began. They did tests for the sisters, information coming from high ranks of the Church that guided the reverend in the art of finding a witch,'' Hyuck stared at you and held his eyes on you while he told the next part. ''Witches don't bleed, so they poked their fingers with sharp needles to prove it but their veins were dry. Witches have the mark of the devil on them, so they looked for that and found moles on the sister's skin, pitching them with hot iron sticks afterwards.''

You can’t help the sadness extending through your heart, listening to Donghyuck telling it in horror. It was a horrible story that was real, not some shit made up- these people existed. You feel sick to your stomach, a pinch of anxiety rising inexplicably.

‘’Witches have light bodies, to levitate and fly, so they took some sisters and judged that, pushing them off the highest cliff into the cold water to see if they could float or fly away in the wind. They sank and drowned, so the people who gathered to watch prayed for their souls. But that didn’t end there, some of them were still being interrogated. Witches can’t cry, so they were surprised when the remaining sisters cried while tortured. But… it could all been a trick, right?’’

The whole group is silenced by Donghyuck's mesmerizing voice as he talks and you just look at the fire while listening, imagining everything that went down with the seven sisters. You couldn't even try, tho. That kind of suffering is too much to handle. How scared they must be, seeing their sisters die one after another? Sustain all that pain?

Donghyuck took a pause to take a sip of the wine, continuing. ‘’After all, the whole town was cursed by them. Strange things started to happen in addition to the old testimonies. Blood started to appear in the medic’s house walls, and the shared office of the judge and the notary caught fire. And weird things kept happening, like hundreds of death flies appearing in the church and the banker having the windows in his house explode out of nowhere one day, pieces of glass cutting his face. The commissioner saw with his own eyes how his cows started giving blood instead of milk. So they all had enough. The only sister remaining was Sarah, so it must be her doing.’’

You felt Jaemin's body tensing, reacting to your own body stiffening. You couldn't help yourself, scared for the story, seeing how far these people were with their believings. He pushed his hand underneath your sweater, stroking your belly softly, covering with his whole palm making you shudder.

‘’So they decided it was time for her to pay and put an end to all this,’’ Donghyuck stopped and took his time in watching everyone, raising his eyebrows and smiling, the fire of the campfire making his eyes shine, ‘’she was declared guilty and condemned with death by fire, just like in hell. That same night they set up a huge bonfire and tied Sarah to the stake. The whole town went, some spitting on her and some scared of the witch too, but curious.’’

Donghyuck winked at you. ‘’And guess who lit the fire, my pretty, unbelieving cutie,’’ he asked, making Jaemin groan in warning, and you keep silent. ‘’You guessed right. It was the Mayor.’’

A breeze of wind pickups then, making you shiver and winding up the campfire in front of you. The top of the trees moves, the sound of its branches moving even despite the distant music of the party. But nobody seems to care, as is normal in a forest.

"To our founders!" Johnny cheered, raising his bottle of wine in a toast.

"You guys are way too comfortable feeling proud of having burned people," you huffed, settling into Jaemin's lap, feeling cold, "sorry if I find this fascination you have for baseless murders bizarre."

‘’Didn't you hear the story? They had proof, the whole town was fucking enchanted,’’ Chenle raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and taking another puff from his blunt.

Marks speaked then, looking kinda embarrassed. ‘’It's not a fascination, it's just—our ancestors did what they believed was best.’’

"Oh God, you don't really think those women were witches, do you?" You started to laugh, but you immediately stopped when you saw that no one is laughing with you. "You guys can't be serious."

"Well, but think about it a bit. Strange things were happening back then, it's written in the records, there are testimonies. Those women were accused for good reason, surely," Jia said, pushing herself closer to Jeno.

‘’Yeah? Like what? To have their dress better ironed? Or maybe they didn't make the butter salty enough for the founders' taste," you joked ironically, winning yourself some eye rolls and scoffs.

‘’Were you listening at all? They have motives, the witches were invoking the Devil and bringing dark shit to the town,’’ Johnny throwed you a unimpressed look.

‘’You can believe whatever, but witches were real then,’’ Doyoung said, swirling his bottle of wine and shrugging. ‘’And probably are now, just hiding better.’’

Renjun stood up, stretching and taking another hit before heading towards the party, not without saying: "And nowadays, strange things are happening too, just like back then. "

Doyoung seemed thoughtful, considering it as he lowers his bottle. "Yes, you're right... too many strange accidents."

‘’You think a witch did it?’’ Jisung asked, looking very scared by that idea.

"Having electrical problems and an idiot running around blowing up pumpkins is not a rare accident," Jaemin denied, looking bored. He starts kissing your shoulder, more focused on touching you and warming you up than on the chills he feels running down your legs. He gave you a little nudge on your side indicating that you should get up, and you obed instantly, happy to leave that place once and for all.

‘’But you can’t deny that witches exist, right, Jaem?’’ Johnny said, teasing him.

‘’If you guys have bloody walls and sick cows, you should call the university staff,’’ you teased the Founders, taking Jaemin's hand, who also gets up and stretches with a grunt when his back cracks. You start to walk away with him, letting yourself be guided by your boyfriend towards the party again. ‘’Or fund the witch police, I’m sure there’s a budget for that!’’

That same night much later, you were in Jaemin's bed, wearing one of his t-shirts while you both watch an old horror movie on TV together before going to sleep, it's almost dawn. Curled up against his side, you look at him from beneath your lashes, studying the curves of his face in silence without paying attention to the movie until Jaemin feels your gaze on him and looks at you, smiling as he notices your expression and affectionately caressing your waist.

"Can I help you, angel?"

"Yes," you admited immediately, moving on top of him to settle yourself on his lap. You cradled his face and kiss him, Jaemin's hands immediately grabbing your thighs and moving up to squeeze your butt with a sleepy grunt. "I want to ask you something," you murmured against his lips, licking yours.

"What is it?" Jaemin asked, tilting his head and playing with the edge of his shirt on you, lifting it slowly but you stop him before he distracts you with another session of sex.

You didn't know how to start, so you went straight to the point. "Nana... the story that Hyuck told, I was wondering," you paused, straighten up above him, "why do you think Sarah didn't take revenge on the Mayor like she did with the council members? Sorry, I know he's your ancestor and all, but I'm curious.’’

Jaemin studied you for a few seconds and then he smiled, slipping his hands under the shirt to caress your skin, sliding his palms over your ribs and the edge of your breasts. "What do you think? They loved each other. I stole his diary a few years ago from my father's library and read it myself. They loved each other so much. The Mayor wanted to marry her even before he was with his first wife, but Sarah came from a poor family and his family insisted. That happened before the village was established, I think.’’

‘’What happened to him? Obviously he got remarried, otherwise you wouldn't be here," you joked, brushing his hair back.

‘’He married one of the girls who had accused Sarah, but because he needed an heir. It wasn't a happy marriage, according to his diary and... he always regretted betraying her," Jaemin responded, looking thoughtful for a moment. He bringed his hands to your back and pulled you back towards him, kissing you softly on your lips. ‘’He continued writing about her and…,’’ the stoped, eyeing your lips.

"And...?" you asked with curiosity, urging Jaemin to continue after he stops. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and then opens them, his face illuminated by the faint light of dawn coming through the window, giving Jaemin a soft appearance.

"And he always had nightmares, until he died. About her. He saw her hurt, crying for him, and burning at the stake... he regretted everything he made her go through, he wished he had helped her escape or hide," Jaemin explained, sitting with you still holding you in his arms for a better reach to your mouth. He kissed you gently, hugging you by the waist. Then he added: ‘’He didn't believe she was bad, it was impossible. Sarah was the kindest woman he had ever known, according to him. He wrote about her until the day of his death, she is the last entry in the diary.’’

"But everyone sees him as a hero or something like that. He was the one who lit the fire," you murmured, unable to avoid thinking about how terrible it must have been for both of them... but especially for Sarah.

Jaemin sighed and pulled at the shirt you're wearing until he takes it off, and this time you let him. "But people don't know the diary exists, baby. Everyone believes the story they've heard, the version Hyuck told last night. The official version of the town.’’

"Why haven't you told them, Jaemin? You know the truth, that Sarah wasn't an evil witch," you said, frowning, letting Jaemin change positions, lying you down on the bed and positioning himself on top of you, parting your legs with a tender but firm touch.

"And who said I won't tell it soon?"

The leader of the Founders smiled at you, and for a moment, you can do nothing but just look at him, feeling your heart soften and explode at the same time, feeling so in love that you forget how to breathe. You felt the electricity inside you like every time you're with Jaemin and sparks fly, vibrating with anticipation when his touch becomes intimate and sensual. Your body arched against his as you both kissed deeply, your breath quickening with each passing second, unable to control some moans that escape you when you feel him hard against your stomach. His slow kisses traveled to your neck, kissing and sucking as well, causing your body to fill with shivers.

"Jaemin, wait-," you stopped him, having one last question before continuing, holding his face so he looks at you. ‘’The last entry in the diary... What did he write?’’

Your favorite smile from Jaemin appeared on his lips, full of teeth and tempting lips, but filled with a pure sweetness he has reserved for you, sporting that expression of bright and mischievous eyes that drived you crazy. He comed near your mouth again and kissed you slowly, full of love.

"That he wished they could be together in their next life."

The days went on, and so did the little accidents, as the townspeople and tourists tried to enjoy the various activities of Season of the Witch. The highschool choir lost their voices and couldn't participate in the reenactment of the burning of the witch Sarah in the town center, and in the middle of the play, the judge's table broke, causing the poor actor to fall and making the audience laugh. The haunted house of your sorority had so many problems that they weren't selling many tickets, so Rosé simply decided to cancel it, giving up after the damn fuses burned out for the tenth time in the little time that had passed in the month.

Chenle was determined to catch the one who had blown up his pumpkins at home, convinced that it was the same person who had blown them up at the frat and who also had a new prank, breaking the witch figures that the neighbors hung in their yards. The basketball team captain was sure that the culprit was some university student who had dared to take their pranks further and make an enemy by puncturing all the balls in the team's storage until they were deflated. Chenle was so furious that he was going to break the culprit's teeth when he caught him, as he had sworn to Renjun when the team couldn't have a practice game that day.

Renjun's room had flooded, ruining his university books and papers, so he had to spend the days leading up to Halloween redoing them to study for his exams the following week. He was convinced that one of his fraternity brothers, like Hendery or Yangyang, was playing pranks on him, because his new notes kept disappearing until it stopped being fucking funny.

Mark and Doyoung were becoming irritable because they were having constant nightmares and not sleeping well. Doyoung tried taking some pills to rest, but they were worse—trapping him in horrible dreams without being able to wake up and throwing them out the window the next day. Mark was grumpy and a bit paranoid, insisting that his cross necklace, originally inherited from the reverend, had disappeared and that he heard noises when he was alone. But Johnny was sure it was because Mark had the messiest room and his system was full of Redbull and he was sleeping little. Mark had reached his limit when he found a couple of dead flies on his desk and freaked out. He refused to sleep in his room, now being Chenle's temporary roommate.

Poor Johnny went through a few days of mourning when the shelves of his wine cellar gave way and broke without warning, shattering all the hundreds of precious, expensive wine bottles that he and his father had collected together. The worst part is that no one had noticed for a few days, so the wine was left there until the smell of rot filled the room and the floor had to be replaced.

Donghyuck's car tires had been slashed, the fuel tank filled with water, and as if that weren't enough, they had scratched the entire exterior, leaving the crowbar perfectly wedged against the driver's side window after finishing the job. He had tried to look at the security cameras like Chenle, but just like his, they didn't work. The image looked blurry until it went black as if there was some interference, so he had to accept that his car was ruined without catching the culprit for the moment.

Jeno realized that his protein shakes tasted like crap and didn't understand why, maybe because he was trying a new brand and flavor. It wasn't until he realized that the milk in his fridge was sour and spoiled, which was confusing. The milk hadn't expired, but when she smelled it through the package, the rotten smell made him gag. He bought a new pack at another store—just to be sure—and when he tried his shake at the gym, he spat it out in front of everyone, feeling that disgusting rotten taste again.

A few days before Halloween and the NCT party, the six Founders barged into Jaemin's room unannounced and surrounded him. The leader raised an eyebrow and lowered his phone, pausing his game, looking at them all without understanding anything and annoyed by the interruption.

‘’What?’’

"We need to talk," Doyoung started, crossing his arms. "We have a problem."

Jaemin sitted down and put his phone away, giving his brothers his full attention. ‘’What’s it? The TXT frat is fucking with us again? I thought I was clear when I punched the president at the spring party.’’

Chenle went straight to the point, sitting in a chair in his leader's room, face unreadable as he’s wearing his classic black sunglasses hiding his eyes. ‘’We have a witch in our hands.’’

Since you had woken up on Halloween day, you felt like everyone had reached their peak weirdness. The days before, when you saw Jaemin's friends around campus, they wouldn't even look at you; in fact, you thought they were avoiding you. Jia was acting similarly, making excuses about having a lot of homework and exams, which you understood. Your relationship with Yuna had been in a strange place since the night of the witch burning, and things had worsened when your ex friend started to take an increasing interest in Jaemin. Apparently, Chenle was a thing of the past and your friend wanted another Founder, with her eyes on the leader. Despite everything, it was strange to get ready alone in your room when you were used to doing it with your friends.

Everyone on campus was going to the annual NCT costume party that night, known for being one -if not the most- wild of the year, epic and out of control. The Founders paid the university to look the other way and not interrupt, letting them do whatever they wanted. Of course, the deal worked successfully every year.

You had chosen a somewhat cliché fallen angel outfit. You were wearing small black wings and a lace top of the same color to match your cute body-hugging skirt and high boots, definitely a sinful angel, as Jaemin had said when you sent him a photo before going out. You didn't really feel like putting too much effort into your costume, although you did want to look good. Really bloody and terrifying costumes weren't your thing anyway, in fact, nothing of that sort at all.

You made your way into the NCT house, a bit surprised by the party's budget. The broken decorations had been replaced with new ones, and the entire front yard had tombs, moving figures of ghosts and vampires, obviously a witch; there was even a smoke machine that added a terrifying touch. It looked like it was straight out of a fucking horror movie, and people had followed the dress code to the max, the costumes you saw had high production value and quality. Jaemin hadn't told you he was going in disguise, but you had a slight suspicion when he sent you some tweets of Ghostface and asked if you liked the mask.

You entered the house with deafening music and colored lights, filled with people dancing, others playing games and drinking, and some even kissing in the corners. It was a typical frat party, but the night felt different... maybe because it was Halloween. Supposedly it was a night of witches and demons, right? The air felt tense, as if something were about to happen but you didn't quite know what it was.

You were looking for Jaemin when someone suddenly crosses your path and says your name. Yangyang takes off his Art the Clown rubber mask to greet you. "What are you wearing?" he asked, a bit offended, observing your outfit and frowning. "It's supposed to be Halloween, not the Victoria's Secret fashion show. Hey, not that I'm complaining, anyway! Are you sure you want to date Jaemin and not me?" He speaked quickly, looking at you mischievously without letting you get a word in.

"Yes, Yangyang, I'm sure," you responded immediately, without paying attention to his comments. "Have you seen Jaemin?"

‘’Nope! I haven't seen any Founders, actually," he frowned as if he was realizing it at that moment and shrugged, lowering his mask. ‘’Anyway, don't try the punch! I put way too much rum in that shit when Kun wasn't looking," he warned, giving you a kiss on the cheek and quickly fleeing while laughing like an evil and silly gremlin.

You continued your way through the party and decided to skip some places, heading directly to the stairs to go to Jaemin's floor. You were walking down the hallway and don't notice a door opening behind you as you pass, a black figure in a hood appearing. He followed you a few steps, acting quickly when he realizes you felt him behind you. The stranger grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, making you scream in surprise, calming down only a little when you realize it's Ghostface the one holding you. His hand covered your neck and squeezed it slightly, feeling your pulse race with fear.

"No, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me! I want to appear in the sequel!" you laughed, breaking free from his grip with a shove and running towards his room before he can catch you again. You opened the door feeling the adrenaline fill you and you are about to close it behind you when Jaemin put his foot in and pushes it open. You slowly backed up to the bed while Jaemin locks the door, taking off his mask and tossing it aside.

''Do you think it's okay to keep escaping from me? Angel, angel... You never learn your lesson, do you?” Jaemin asked, moving towards you slowly, speaking in a tone of mock sympathy. You felt excitement wash over you, your thighs rubbing together as you stared at him and he noticed, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Kneel,” he ordered, resting a hand on your head to press you down. “You didn't think I was going to forget the punishment I owe you, did you?”.

“N-no,” you replied, your knees hitting the floor. Jaemin's hand gently caressed your cheek until he slided his fingers up to your mouth, rubbing them against your lips. ‘’Nana-’’

He slapped your cheek with his other hand, not too hard but firm enough to make you gasp and shut up. ''I thought so. Always so chatty, so defiant. But don't worry, angel, I know the best way to shut you up. Open your mouth, pretty slut.’’

You licked your lips and then part them, looking at Jaemin with pitiful eyes. He slipped his fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them immediately, swirling your tongue over them and cupping your cheeks to suck them eagerly, breathing through your nose as he takes them deep into your throat until you choke. He did it again and again until saliva begins to drip from the corners of your lips, feeling it dripping down your cleavage. You inhaled air through your mouth as he wiped away the wetness on your lips, making you more of a sloppy mess. He grabbed your hair and hold it in his fist as he shooted you a stern look as your hand groped the bulge in his pants covered by the black robe of the costume.

''So fucking needy, can't you wait for my cock, mm? You better not close your mouth, understand?” he said, releasing you to unbutton his pants. You obed him and keep your mouth open, tongue hanging out and feeling the saliva dripping down as you wait for him. He looked at you with smug satisfaction as he pulled his cock out of his boxers and rubbed it up against your pretty face, the thick, long cock rubbing your cheek and nose, even brushing against your tongue as Jaemin stroked himself in front of you.

You moaned when Jaemin let out a rough growl as he pressed his balls against your tongue and you flicked your tongue along them, feeling so powerful as you pleasure him. Jaemin grabbed your head as before and drived his cock into your mouth, thrusting lazily as your lips wrap around it and sucked on it, your tongue circling his thickness. You sucked him at his pace, slow, deep lunges that made you moan around him, feeling him hard in your mouth and giving you the occasional gag when he stayed too long at the back of your throat.

He only pulled out when you blink and a few tears escape, smiling down at you from his height and letting you breathe for a few seconds before plunging back into the back of your mouth, pushing his cock until your nose bumps against his pelvis.

He placed both hands on your head and holded you down, fucking your face more rapidly, making you gag around his cock and reaching a hand between your legs, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit. ''Fuck, so fucking good, sucking cock like the whore you are,” he grunted, slamming it down your throat over and over as you gagged and tried to relax your jaw, taking his huge cock with your slacked mouth.

You breathed shakily as you let Jaemin continue to fuck your mouth, moving your fingers around faster on your clit and even sliding one finger into your aching pussy, moaning as you moved them in the same pace as Jaemin was using your throat and even slidded another digit in.

''A dirty angel, preparing her pussy to be fucked without my permission,” Jaemin scolded you, pushing his cock's tip against the inside of your cheek and smacking it, making both of you moan from the sensation. ''Get on all fours and lift that ass up like a good slut for me.''

Jaemin pulled his cock out of your mouth and you couldn't help but cough a little and swallow, feeling your throat dry. You stood up trembling and sniffling through your nose from the tears, hurrying to obey Jaemin. You slowly leaned over the bed, giving him a view from under your skirt as you position yourself, revealing that you were not wearing any underwear. Jaemin's breath catches when he realizes you're not wearing anything under your skirt, seeing your pussy glistening with moisture, swollen lips that you part with your fingers, moaning his name to provoke him.

"Jaemin, please, I need your cock filling me," you said, turning your head to look at him, resting your face on his pillow. You spreaded your legs to show him more of your dripping pussy, biting your lower lip and begging with your eyes. "I want you to fuck me full of your cum," you moaned, giving your clit little slaps, moving your hips to rub your fingers firmly against it.

You saw Jaemin's eyes darkening and you smile pleased internally, knowing you have him right where you want him. You loved the way he dominated and fucked you, but you also liked to play with him and provoke him; pulling his strings until you got what you wanted. The way he positioned himself behind you and kneaded your ass made you moan in need, a possessive feeling filling you up as you know he is yours, feeling so overwhelmed that you can't help but shudder when you feel the tip of his cock pushing into your entrance, driving himself into your pussy so deep that his balls hit your ass.

‘’Nana, you’re so big,’’ you cried in pleasure at the feeling of stretching and a bit of pain sting, your walls getting used to Jaemin's size as they throbbed around his cock, scratching the sheets with your hands. You clinged to them when Jaemin started fucking you hard and deep, both of you moaning like two animals in heat while his hands grip your waist tightly.

"Taking my cock so well, this pretty pussy is made just for me, right?" He gived your ass a smack, causing more of your moans, and Jaemin growled as he fucks you hard while rolling up your skirt, gripping the garment as he moved in and out of you quickly. "You’re never going to leave my side, always being filled up with my cock and cum," he breathed heavily, groaning hoarsely as he feels your pussy tighten at the sound, feeling out of control. ‘’You’re going to let me breed you like the good girl you are-’’

Your eyes filled with surprise when he said that, and your body reacted, your pussy getting wetter and liking the idea, a sensation of pleasure forming in your stomach that has you whimpering with need while Jaemin railed you hard and fast. ‘’Yes, Nana! I’ll let you—fill me up, please," you begbed, your mouth slightly open, drooling on his bed as he used you however he wanted, giving pleasure and excitement, whining with each thrust of his big cock inside you.

"Fuck, begging like the pretty little whore that you are- I'm gonna fill you up so much, angel," he promised while thrusting into you, feeling drops of sweat fill his nape. Jaemin slapped your ass again and grabbed the flesh of your cheeks, kneading them possessively and spreading them apart to see the small hole of your ass.

He lets a thread of saliva fall slowly onto him, surprising you with the sensation and making you whimper, looking at him with imploring eyes as Jaemin begins to slide his index finger over it in a caress, spreading his saliva on it. "I’m gonna fuck this tight hole next, fill it with cum too."

You moaned from the overwhelming sensations and nodded repeatedly, gasping and tightening around Jaemin's cock, feeling your climax approaching as he inserted the tip of his finger into your ass, making you gasp in surprise at the unexpected but welcome touch.

"Come on my cock my pretty slut, milk me," he ordered, and you could only moan, feeling a tremor in your legs and your core fill with heat and moisture, soaking Jaemin's cock with your slick. "Beg for my fucking cum."

‘’Jaemin, please! I want all your cum, breed me," you said breathlessly, moaning non-stop even as you cummed, a wave of pleasure hitting you and leaving you dazed as you enjoy it. You stretched your hand back, caressing Jaemin's stomach and looking at him again, smiling provocatively. "Fill me with your cum, I want it to drip from me for days, please-"

‘’Take it, it's all yours, angel, fucking take it," he moaned, finishing deep inside your pussy, making you whimper from the warm feeling of his semen filling you up. Jaemin clinged to you as he finishes and tried to catch his breath, staring intently as his cock buried in your pussy, coating your womb with his cum. He gave you a gentle thrust and you moaned from the sensitivity, a masculine satisfaction filling him as he continued moving, some remnants of his cum coming out of your entrance and being pushed back in with the tip of his cock. ‘’Shit, baby. This pussy is driving me crazy," he murmured as he continues playing with his semen, floating his cock between the folds of your pussy and then gathering the white liquid to push it back inside you again. ''Such a pretty hole, dripping with my cum.''

You made a small sound and let your body fall forward, closing your eyes with a happy sigh and a bit of tiredness. You moved you hand behind you, slipping it between your legs and gathering the remnants of semen in your pussy, spreading it slowly between your folds too while looking at Jaemin with lustful eyes and softly moaning. You swore Jaemin's pupils dilate and he lunged at you, kissing you hungrily while his fingers intertwine with yours, both slowly caressing your poor, used pussy until you sighed contentedly and looked at him mischievously afterward.

"Put the mask on, I want to ride Ghostface now."

You didn't know how your legs were able to, but you found a strength to leave the bed and go down to the kitchen while the party continued and Jaemin followed after you, both hungry and thirsty after fucking two times non-stop. Your angel wings were long gone, and thankfully Jaemin didn’t tear any of your clothes this time, so you were presentable. It was way past midnight and the Halloween party was peaking, not noticing anyone you knew, not even your friends when you passed the living room scanning the people dancing. Jaemin was leading you by holding your hand, put you let it go when someone pushes with force against your body, making you move back.

‘’What's up, pumpkin?’’ Johnny smiled at you, you noticed first thing he was not wearing a costume. ‘’Are you enjoying the party?’’

‘’We do, man,’’ Jaemin answered for you, putting his arm to your shoulders. ‘’Are you going to the woods?’’

‘’Yeah, are you two coming? We’re having another bonfire, this time it's beer, tho. I haven’t had the time to refill my wine cellar,’’ the tall man said, winking at you as he murmured your name. ‘’You’re coming too, right? You know our leader won’t come if you aren’t there.’’

‘’Of course she’s coming, right baby?’’ Jaemin smiled at you, kissing your temple. You looked at him strangely because that wasn't your usual routine. You two were the cuddling type, so after having sex both will laid in bed for hours, just making up and chilling. Going to another stupid bonfire wasn't part of that ritual, that was weird. ‘’It will be fun, you’ll see, angel.’’

You entered the same entrance in the forest where a few days ago burned the witch dummy, but this time there wasn't any garland of light illuminating the path. The wood looked dark and creepy, the full moon rising on the sky and you admired it for a moment. Johnny and Jaemin chatted about sports and you don’t really heard them, missing the bed you were in before.

As you three came closer to the forest’s clearing, you noticed there’s no bonfire, but light up torches in the Founder’s hands. You crossed your arms as you walked towards them, feeling the tension thickening as you came closer. You sided eye Jaemin, feeling kinda uneasy, none of the Founders- and your friends who were there too not talking or laughing or drinking, they just… stayed there, illuminated by the fire in the torches.

But as you were about to say something to Jaemin, his hands pushed you to the ground hard, making you gasp in pain and confusion. His hand grabbed your hair and yanked your hair, forcing your eyes to see the Founders coming close to you. ‘’Jaemin, what the fuck! Let go!’’

‘’You’re forbidden to speak, witch,’’ Donghyuck sayid, kicking the ground so dirt lands on your body. ‘’This is a trial by the council. Bring the witnesses, Mark.’’

Mark did as told, making a hand gesture to Jia and Yuna to come closer. They do, Jia looking shaken up and Yuna more composed, eyes shining at you with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What the fuck was going on?!

You intended to speak again, but as you about to you felt a jab of pain to your face, Johnny giving you a strong slap to your cheek that already leaves a mark behind.

‘’Shut up witch, you can’t speak,’’ he grunted and then looks at the girls. ‘’Tell what you told Chenle before.’’

‘’I saw her pinching her finger with a needle and didn't bleed,’’ Yuna is fast to accuse, staring at you in what appears to be fear, but you didn't buy it. ‘’And she- she didn't like Chenle, she said that she wishes he could go to hell, too.’’

‘’What!? What the fuck is going on, I never said-’’ A new wave off pain washed over your face, this time being for the hand of the named before. Chenle growled at you with so much hate- you actually feared him. You tried to catch Jaemin’s eyes, begging silently, but he didn't even looked at you, stare still on his friend.

‘’This is your witch trial, fucking demon. You really thought you could fuck with us? You think you scares us?’’ Chenle said, smiling at you in a mocking way, shaking his head. ‘’You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re got yourself into to.’’

‘’What are you talking about?! I’m not a fucking witch, have you all lost your minds?!’’ You yelled, terror filling your voice.

‘’She’s always strolling around trying to seduce men,’’ Jia said, and sended a quick look towards Jeno. ‘’J-jeno told me you always give him flirty eyes, even right after you come to town. Aren’t you ashamed? Being that young and taunting him with your short skirts?’’ She asked, voice filling with anger and jealousy, making you snort incredulously.

‘’Is this a fucking joke? What are you even on- I don’t even speak to Jeno,’’ you defended yourself confused by that accusation, watching your friend like they were crazy and you frown your eyebrows. ‘’Short- what? Jia, we had the same uniform,’’ you reminded her desperately, gripping Jaemin’s fingers in your head and trying to let go of your hair with a cry. ‘’Our skirts were the same length! We were sixteen! Are you even listening what you’re saying?’’

‘’So you don’t deny you tried to seduce him, right? I am a witness myself, knowing damn well you’re a little minx, showing your legs and tits in your tight outfits,’’ Donghyuck said, his eyes scanning your Halloween costume and you cursed under your breath.

‘’She always goes to the forest to study,’’ Yuna accused you before you could defend yourself again, ‘’but now I know she wasn't doing that. The night of the bonfire I saw her and Jaemin! She was naked and dancing in front of him, s-she was speaking in tongues,’’ her voice cracks, hugging herself and seeming like she's about to cry at any minute. ‘’She was bewitching him! Witch!’’

You stared at everybody completely in shock, they’re all lost their minds?! You felt a new pair of hands as Johnny grabbed you easily away from Jaemin and started dragging you across the ground to somewhere while you screamed and kicked until you were in front of what appeared to be the point where they burned the dummy witch last time. With a new stake.

‘’You were behind all the shit going down, the fire and the explosions,’’ this time Renjun accused you, coming next to you, giving you a disgusted look. ‘’You knew what happened to the original Founders and you did it to us too,’’ another slap landed on you, shocked that a quiet, cold Renjun could act like that. ‘’You made fun of us, thinking we won’t realize, don’t you? You give us nightmares and tried to fuck with your minds.’’

‘’Jaemin told us he found Mark’s Reverend cross in your room,’’ Doyoung seethes and you shaked your head, making him more furious. ‘’Stop lying, fucking witch!’’

‘’I don't! I didn't steal anything, I swear!’’ you cried confused and scared, trying to see Jaemin behind you. ‘’Nana, what’s all this?! Why did you said that?! It's a lie!’’

‘’Our leader would't lie or betray us, no matter how good your pussy is. He hates fucking, evil witches just like us,’’ Donghyuck defended his friend, voice proud. ‘’And we will clean our town of them, just like the founders did.’’

‘’This was his idea,’’ Johnny said, smiling at Jaemin. ‘’It wasn't difficult, right? You follow him around matter what. Did you had fun at the party, doll? I hope you enjoyed, it was your last time.’’

You stayed silent and freezed as you realize what’s happening. The accusations, the torches with fire, the stake- your eyes get bigger and your body trembled, realising you’re completely alone. No one knows you were in the woods, just Jaemin, the Founders and your friends. And none of them were gonna to help you, you thought starting to cry more desesperately.

‘’You are guilty of the crimes of witchcraft and the council has decided tonight you’ll burn for it.’’ Jaemin's voice filled your rigning ears, making you sob harder.

‘’Please, please! I’m not a fucking witch! You’re all insane!'’ You screamed in panic, your voice shaking while trying to convince someone. Your eyes found Yuna and Jia. ‘’Jia, please, help me. They’re gonna kill me, please make them stop,’’ you begged them, crying desperately.

Next to her was Yuna, porting the same sad face Jia wears, but none of them moved your way. Jia cried silently, staying still as she watched you beg. You shaked your head, realizing they chose their side and it was the Founders.

‘’Yuna, please! You said you will never let me alone, remember? W-when we met on my first day in h-highschool, you said you’d take care of me,’’ you reminded her, your voice tainted with not just fear, but sadness and a boiling rage filling your chest.

‘’Shut up!,’’ Mark groaned, pushing you to the ground with a kick to your back. You landed fist face and felt seconds after the blood coming from your nose and mouth, slip lip. ’’Dont speak to them, witch.’’

You saw Jaemin standing a little behind and you cry in anger, immobilized to the ground while Marks tided your wrists tightly and you sobbed, thinking about your night Jaemin back at the NCT frat. How you two kissed and fucked, until you two were just one body.

‘’How could you do this to me, Jaemin? Please, help me, please-’’ you begged once again, voice cracking with fear and closing your eyes when another sob tembled in your chest. ‘’Please, I’m not a witch!’’

Your sobs and desperate cries for help echoed through the forest without receiving a response, your cheeks soaked with tears that run your mascara. You lowered your head to avoid seeing Chenle starting pouring gasoline on the bonfire, hiding your eyes behind your hair like a curtain. A few moments passed and your crying morphed into small laughs that interruped your sobs, until you were laughing hysterically, throwing your head back and looking at the full moon that illuminated the night.

A breeze stared to sweep through the forest, growing stronger with each passing second, making the treetops and the flames of the torches shake violently to the rhythm of your crying. Mark, who were behind you, begins to stepped back and hold the cross around his neck, looking at the others who also tense up with your laughter, glancing at each other with distrust.

The scared and tearful girl was someone completely different, watching them with a maniacal smile as you slowly straighten up, sitting on your heels, and letting out a chuckle at the surprise on their faces.

You looked completely insane, with your bloody face and the fear erased from you, a pleased, mocking grin in your lips. ‘’Well, well. Aren't you guys a couple of damn good detectives,'' you laughed, tilting your head to the side. ''It must run in the blood, right?''

They all react differently, Yuna and Jia being actually gasping in a mix of shock and fear. Chenle and Doyoung looked like they wanna chop your head off at any minute, Johnny, Jeno and Renjun were porting similar stances, tense and looking cautious. Donghyuck, on the other hand, seemed conflicted and a little bit scared, just like Mark, who you listened was praying with his voice low.

But Jaemin…he just stared at you with an empty face. It’s like he was wearing a mask. No emotions, not the pretty glow in his eyes or his enchanting smile, no fear of hate radding off his body. He just… looked at you with the most blank face, making your heart twist with anguish at his disinterest.

"Witch," Doyoung spited through clenched teeth, his hand trembling with fury as he holded his torch. "You’re a liar and a sinner, and you’ll burn in hell for it."

‘’Me? I’m the one going to hell? Dodo,’’ you responded in a teasing tone, laughing to yourself, ’’you don’t think you’re going too? Or at least to prison, this looks like a group murder attempt to me. But I think we should ask the expert, where’s the future lawyer? What do you think, Junnie?’’

‘’Shut the fuck up, evil demon,’’ Renjun said in the iciest tone you’ve ever heard from him.

You pouted squinting your eyes at him. '’Sheesh, I just wanted free legal counseling, is that a sin?’’ You joked, laughing again when they stayed silent, letting out a surprised yelp when someone grabbed your tied arms from behind and lifted you up, dragging you to the stake. You turned your head to see Mark and you grinned at him. ’’Oh, the pastor’s son! Wait, are we having a moment just us or something? How does this actually go? I wanna confess, Father, let me confess!’’

You felt this body tensing at your mockery tone while you tried to shake his hands off you, fighting against him. Chenle joined in and grabbed your hair in his fist, throwing your head back with painful force until his face meets yours.

He slapped you with the fame force as before, done with your little jokes. ‘’Who are you? Why’d you came to this town?’’

You whimpered from the pain and licked your dry and hurt lips, tasting the new blood decorating them. ‘’Sarah,’’ you explained with a sigh, ‘’me and my mom- we have a coven. I'm connected to her, she’s my guide. She started appearing in my dreams, showing me everything,’’ you growled now, all the teasing and laughter gone from you. Your body shuddered with pure, red rage that made your veins and heart burn with anger. ‘’How the town treat them, how they tortured and her sisters too, how they… they took everything from them until the were nothing.’’

You let out some honest tears, and you didn't knew if they were yours or hers. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about all the violent scenes you’ve seen from years and years in your dreams. How the coven were betrayed by friends, blind by envy and jealousy. How they spend nights fearing for what’s next to come, who will be taken for tests or just tortured in the name of God. The way they burned her house and stole her animals, how they sent the youngest to her death by throwing into the deep waters with her ankles tied with rocks and watched how she drowned- and the way the people breathed in relief, knowing the town was being cleaned and guided by the lovable founders.

They weren’t just girls. They were poor souls, of course, and the Reverend reminded the people that they have to have mercy in their heart while praying for them, because the girls were tainted and marked by the Devil’s touch.

The same girls that helped the town in the best way they could, providing the pregnant woman special medicine to help their discomfort and even taking their late mom's place and help deliver some healthy babies. The same girls who gave milk and butter to the ones who didn’t get a good harvest before winter. The same girls that after a long day of work played like kids in the forest together, picking up flowers and singing to the moon.

None of that mattered. Everybody turned their backs on them.

The women accused them of seducing their sons, dancing provocatively and naked in the woods, having many testimonies about it. Their friends envying the way the girls will catch the attention with their beauty and the sound of their laugh, the way the Major will look at Sarah with so much desire. The men resented her and her sisters and the way the girls lived alone and unmarried, like they weren’t dignified enough to take their hand and bless the town with more members. Even more scandalous, doing men's work like taking care of the farm by themselves, why did the girls have more land than them? Why did the sisters ignore them and their advances?

And the Reverend… oh, how he loved it. The way they all listened to his sermons, how they believed his words, the direct voice of God coming off him. He was the salvation personificated, taking his precious town into the blessed gates of heaven. That power was so intoxicating. And when the accusations started coming in, he was just ecstatic. He was taking care of the town, he kept to remind himself with satisfaction even his thoughts were interrupted everytime the girls would scream nonstop at the torture room.

‘’They were evil beings, just like you-’’ Jeno said in a venomous way with his hands pressed tight in fists. ’’Playing games like you do, doing witchcraft and tarnishing the city with it.’’

‘’They were not! The town- they betrayed them! Just because you don’t understand what they did it doesn't mean they were evil,’’ you screamed, fighting again against Chenle and Mark with fierceness, not caring if you could get hit again, ’’and all of you are just like them, the mighty Founders,’’ you spited, ‘’fuck you!’’

‘’Shup the up fuck,’’ Johnny growled, coming to you and slaping you with force. ‘’You tried to curse this town again, just like Sarah. You bright harm to us, remember?’’

‘’I just gave you guys the real evil witch the town wanted for so long and I had fun doing it. But the final will be different this time.’’

You saw red, feeling so angry and hysterical, you couldn’t believe that after all this time, after centuries… they were still here. The judge, the banker, the notary and the commissioner, the medic and the reverend- even the major… They were still here, in the form of Renjun, Donghyuck, Doyoung, Jeno, Johnny, Mark and Jaemin. Even the accusers, who looked just like Yuna and Jia.

But I’m here too, you thought, trying to comfort yourself.

"All of you are just like them," you said with venom, looking at each and every one of them, ‘’believing yourself to be better, thinking of taking a life as if it’s nothing. The witches did nothing wrong, why was it a crime to appreciate nature and its gifts? But the council didn't care, did they? They locked them up, tortured them, and then staged that... fake trial, when they already knew what they were going to do with them.’’

Chenle and Mark tied you to the stake by the wrist, so tight it cuts your blood circulation. They all rounded the bonfire, the smell of gasoline filling your nose after Johnny wet the big wooden sticks placed on top of another and straw too. Their hot torches didn't come down yet, since they were waiting for their leader's signal, just like they always did.

‘’Some last words?’’ Jaemin asked next to your ear, soft lips tracing the side of your neck and his hands caressing your arms for what you think it’s a goodbye.

‘’I love you,’’ you felt his hand grabbing the restraints on your wrist and the cold edge of a razor against your skin there. You sensed the warmth of the fire from the torches coming close to you, ready to burn you when the leader says so. You turned your face to the side, wanting to see him as you whisper your words to him. ’’Jaemin, I love you.’’

‘’I love you too, my pretty witch,’’ he whispered, cutting the rope and taking a step back, freeing you. He turned around and collides against Chenle, who saw the whole thing and was rushing to the stake to stop it. With no words, Jaemin lifted his hand and in a fast and unexpected move he cutted the Founder's throat, slicing it open.

Everything happend so fast at the same time.

Chenle started coughing and splashing blood everywhere as he fell to the ground, the majority of the red liquid landing in Jaemin while Yuna and Jia screamed. Jeno lunged for the leader’s body tackling him as Mark and Johnny were in shock, Mark actually letting go of his torch on the ground to cover his mouth drowning the scream that comes out of it. Renjuns runned to his dying friend, trying to apply pressure on the wound on but it’s impossible, the blood coming too fast outta the sliced throat. Donghyuck followed Renjun, throwing his torch without a thought as he rushed to help his friends, turning hysterical.

No one payed attention to you for a moment, or how you moved your fingers in the dirt, making symbols as you sing softly but hurrying, the familiar warmth of power coming to your body. You digged your fingers into the ground and sing more fierceling, casting a powerful, dark spell until your eyes turned black. When Doyoung realiced what you were doing it’s too late, not able to took a few steps towards you when his body is suddenly freezing and his hand covers his aching throat in pain, gasping for air.

Everybody else follows, feeling their throats closing as if somebody was choking them with so much force, making their faces red and desperate right away. They tried to fight it but it was impossible, the invisible touch squeezing so hard until they start losing consciousness and some noses bleed, eyes coming out of their sockets, hands falling just like their bodies.

Your nose bleeded too from the power you’re using, body shaking but unable to stop, feeling deep inside you an intense satisfaction as you saw how the Founders were dying slowly, just like the seven sisters died so long ago; suffering. The muffled sounds of the Founders started to fade- even Chenle, who took his last breath.

Your body lied on the ground after everything comes to an end, trying to breath and feeling so exhausted. The whole thing leaved you completely weak in a way you never felt before, but then again, you never used your magic to something like this before. You were powerful, but this was a different type of magic that took almost too much energy- but you could swear you felt them, your past coven members inside you and of course, Sarah. In the middle of feeling completely drained you also felt a peace that warmed your heart. You suspected it was her.

While you blinked hard trying not to go into unconsciousness, for a second you throughout you saw the witches running through the trees of the dark forest with their hands intertwined, a distant chorus of laughter dying in the wind until the place was silent again. You didn’t bother to look around to see the bodies of the Founders and of your two friends, dead too.

You heared footsteps rapidly coming your way and the next thing you knew Jaemin was taking you in his arms, eyes darkening with worry and desperate searching your face and body for injuries, afraid for the first time in the whole night when he saw how hard you fell to the ground and stayed still for the most fucking long moments of his life.

‘’Fuck, baby,’’ he breathed, hugging you tightly against his body, shaking just like you, ‘’you scared the shit outta me.’’ Jaemin closed his eyes and inhaled in your neck, needing to feel your perfume in a mad manner. ‘’I thought you were really hurt- fuck.’’

You smiled, feeling a little pain on your face from the blows you took before, now dried blood stains decorating your skin. ‘’I’m okay, Nana,’’ you said, leaning backwards so you can see his face, ‘’I’m just- I feel so tired.’’

Jaemin hissed seeing the blood and some parts of your pretty face darkened in red- no doubt there will be bruises tomorrow. His face was beated too, taking some hard punches from Jeno as they were fighting before.

‘’Shit-’’ he started, tensed jaw and voice full of disgust, stopping himself as the leader felt guilt rushing to his heart seeing you hurt. ‘’Baby, I’m so sorry. I take it too far?’’ He questioned, frowning.

‘’I’m okay,’’ you repeated, kissing him gently on the lips. Your boyfriend kisses you in the same way, raising his hands to your face and holding it so softly and careful- it melts your heart. You tasted some blood too, noticing the splatter of it in Jaemin’s face and clothes when you separate a little bit, your movements slowed as you feel totally drained of energy. ‘’You did so well, Nana. It had to look real, remember?’’

Jaemin kissed you again, his thumb caressing your cheek. ‘’You looked so fucking hot back there,’’ he admited with a evil smirk.

‘’Jaemin, please! What the hell, stop!’’ you laughed incredibly scandalized at his words, a little bit ironic knowing what you just did, killing in revenge a bunch of people.

‘’What?’’ he laughed, that pretty, full of millions of white perfect teeth showing, ‘’I can’t adore my pretty witch?’’ He calmed a little, still smiling but now more like the lover you know, dark eyes sparking at you. ‘’I'm sorry for pushing you early-’’

‘’Nana, it has to be done, we plan it to be as real as possible. They couldn't suspect you,’’ you repeated one again, smiling to calm him down.

‘’I know but, shit,’’ he sighed, still sensing a little bit of stress rushing, ‘’I can’t ever see you hurt again like that, you understand?’’

‘’Okay,’’ you promised easily because it was true, wanting nothing more than a peaceful life with Jaemin. This time you kissed him, and you shivered with cold and excitement.

You were walking down the road with Jaemin, glued to his side, still feeling weak and exhausted, wishing for two or three days to spend only sleeping, so tired. You felt like passing out at any moment again, but you refused to let Jaemin carry you, who has already done so much for you tonight, besides taking a beating.

Jaemin let you, looking at you and knowing full well that you would end up in his arms in no time. Luckily there don't seemed to be any around, either sleeping or partying, as the night isn't over yet; but you and Jaemin don't stand up suspiciously anyway, your bloodied and beaten figures looking like a fucked up zombie couple costumes or something.

''Thank you,'' you said out of the blue, looking at your boyfriend, ''for everything, tonight. I meant it, Jaemin.''

Jaemin stopped and so do you, you were unable to help the smile on your face as he kissed you tenderly, taking special care with your wounded lips. You felt his arms around you pulling you closer to his body and you melt back into his chest.

‘'There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, baby,'' he said, beaming at you as he nuzzled your bruised cheek adoringly. '’I knew it from the first time I saw you at school, my cute witch. The girl of my dreams, literally.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling a little embarrassed thinking about the young you, still baby face and everything, pretty different from how you looked now. Jaemin told you once that he dreamed about you for years, seeing you between the rising flames of Sarah’s burning and calling for him.

‘’I will never forget that day,’’ Jaemin muttered. ‘’It felt like my heart recognised yours, angel. You were finally with me after so much time, it felt so right.’’

You felt your eyes well up with hot, thick, love-filled tears that threaten to escape and Jaemin wiped them away with his thumb when they do, smiling at you. “I would do anything for you too, Nana. I just love you so much,” you whispered to his lips, “so damn much.’’

''I love you, my pretty witch,'' Jaemin said as he gives you a small kiss, a sealed promise. ''This time I will never let you go.’’

#na jaemin x reader #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #jaemin smut #wicked season series

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