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buryustogether · 1 year ago

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lilac - chapter 8 + epilogue

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the walls are crashing down, and even spiderman can’t hold up an entire universe.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: smut, kidnapping, universe collapsing, torture, filming, blood, blade violence, explosions, choking, falling off a building, love confessions, major character death, start-overs

If you closed your eyes hard enough, if you flooded your senses with your deep, treasured memories and blocked out everything around you, you were able to transport yourself back into last week. Last week, when Gabriella had crashed on the couch, and you and Miguel were lying in bed with chests heaving and sweat cooling across your necks. The bedside lamp was dim; the bulb needed to be changed. Outside, the city continued to thrive, churning and burning and spitting. But inside your bedroom, your hand clasped in his, the world was still.

He had rolled you over so that you lay on top of his broad frame, but he was still inside of you, soft and flaccid now that he’d finally chased his release - after giving you yours four times. You blinked tiredly, staring at nothing as you felt one of his long, thick fingers skimming over your back.

“I’ve been thinking,” you murmured against the warm, tan skin of his shoulder.

Miguel hummed, acknowledging your words. His fingers continued to graze across your skin, up and down, up and down.

“Obviously we’re… planning on staying together. For a long time. Right?”

Though he kept his eyes closed, his thick, full lips quirked upward into a smirk, allowing the tips of his fangs to poke into view. “Believe me, sweetheart,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

His words stirred inside of you, like a new hope springing to life. “Well… we’re going to need to move. Someplace bigger, with more room. For all of us. And this city, Mig, it’s… it’s not safe.”

It was then that Miguel’s eyes opened, and that smile slowly disappeared from his lips. You felt your heart sink with them, like an anchor in your belly. “You’re talking about moving away?” he said. When you only lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum, he exhaled deep and moved his hand to begin carding through your hair. “I can’t leave, bebe,” he said softly. “You know why.”

Yes, you knew why. It was because he was Spiderman, and this was New York, the worst city in the country to live in. With criminals on every block and fires and shootouts and a sky so deeply and violently purple you’d never even known its true color.

Being a lover, a father, everything before and after and in between, was what made Miguel who he was. But that was only a part. That other half came from being a hero, from helping those who could not help themselves. Walking with a sense of pride in what he did, knowing that people had something to trust in.

And you knew he could never leave that.

So you swallowed thick and let the issue go. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his large, naked form, nestling your face into the soft, delicate spot where his throat met his chest. “Okay,” you said, and you felt him lean down to kiss the crown of your head. “I’d still like a bigger place, though. Your daughter can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

Miguel chuckled, wrapping a sinewy arm around your middle to keep you close while you both dozed off. “I think we can do that.”

You were suddenly brought back to the present when, behind the glass partition you were facing, the giant, hulking machinery moved a few inches before coming to a halt. The metal groaned and squealed, startling the little girl held tight against your chest. Gabriella was heavy, and your arms were beginning to grow tired, but you would hold her until the end of time, if you needed to.

The Alchemax viewing area was dim and dark in the corners of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the control panel to your right and the stark, white lights projected onto the molecular collider in the lab. It was a massive piece of machinery, built to withstand its own otherworldly power, armored and bolted to the ground should the walls and ceiling be blasted away into nothingness.

You turned slightly when the collider moved again, twisting and turning in on itself, and Gabriella released a small, pitiful cry against your shoulder. Twisting your expression into a sneer, you fixed the man at the control panel with the meanest look you could muster.

Doctor Octopus - Otto Octavius, a visionary genius turned terrorist after his mechanical arms took over his head - lifted his head slightly and let his shades slip down his crooked nose. In return to your harsh frown, he gave an apologetic expression that carried no genuinity whatsoever. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said as one of his arms reached out to flip a few switches. “Just a few test runs.”

Shifting Gabriella’s weight to your hip, you glanced down and smoothed the girl’s hair from her face. She was still wearing her jacket that she would have put on at recess - they must have been watching the school, waiting for her to emerge from those brick walls so that they could snatch her up. Suddenly you were cursing yourself, wishing you could face your reflection in a mirror and shatter the glass with a fist. You could have been there. Could have made sure she was safe, she was secure.

Her being here was your fault.

And her being here meant something that made your veins turn to ice when you thought about it; they knew who Spiderman really was.

When the collider began to shift again, shaking the building slightly in its very foundations despite being here in the basement of the building, you turned your head to face Octavius again. “What exactly are you all planning to do with this thing?” you said, watching as he shifted across the control panel to reach a few buttons and scanners. “I heard it wasn’t ready for tests yet.”

“From who, darling?” he said, meeting your eyes over the rims of his shades. “A spider on the wall?” When you said nothing, averting your eyes to the floor, he hummed and continued on, allowing his mechanical arms to carry him over to a large monitor. His gloved fingers typed faster than you thought possible for a person. “Alchemax is playing a dangerous game with a toy they don’t understand. Tests mean nothing when dealing with a piece of the future like this. That Spiderman of yours told you about the multiverse, didn’t he?”

Told you about it. Explained it. Came from it.

Octavius raised a finger and beckoned you toward him. You hesitated, holding your breath, before silently padding across the observation area to stand behind him at the monitor. Squinting your eyes against the light, you watched as he gestured to a warping, live image of string-like animations repeating in a loop on the screen. “These,” he said, finger grazing along the lines, “are realities close within one another. They’re different, sure, but only in little ways. Someone’s eyes are a different shade. A grain of sand is misplaced a foot from where it landed. Again - little ways.” He used the touchpad of the computer to scroll outward, giving you a view of so many lines warping together it looked like almost an entirely colored screen. “And these are the realities within our grasp with the collider. Meaning -” he looked down at you - “every reality in the multiverse.”

You stared at the screen, hugging Gabriella to yourself tightly. One of those lines was Miguel’s reality. Where he was supposed to be.

As Octavius scrolled back in, you caught a glimpse of a line flickering and glitching, unlike the others. You stopped him. “That one,” you said, and he halted. “What’s that one?”

“Earth - 9193,” he said, his voice low and grave. He met your eyes, his gaze darker than it was just a moment ago. “Our home universe.” He gave a rather rueful smile as he watched your expression melt into one of confusion. “In our reality,” he explained as his mechanical arms set him - finally - on the ground, “there is no Spiderman. This city - it’s not supposed to get better. So imagine the universe’s bafflement when Spiderman from a different reality swoops in to save the day. It tries to expel him. Tries to correct canon events gone wrong. But it couldn’t. And so - it’s collapsing.”

“Collapsing?”

“Correct.” He paused and you both looked up when, overhead, there came a distant boom; the city falling apart at the seams. The building shook again and dust fell from the ceiling. To your surprise, he lifted one of his arms and shielded your head as it bounced off your shoulders and clung to your hair. “Call us selfish,” he said and lowered his arm again. “But my associates and I aren’t particularly fond of sticking around when the end comes around.”

You blinked a few times at the screen, feeling your heart skip a beat or twelve as you let his words sink in. Your universe - it was collapsing. That was what the glitches in the city had been. That was why Miguel’s apartment building had folded in on itself - it was because of him. No matter where he went, the glitches followed.

Because he was a virus here in your reality, and when viruses could not be expelled, the system would ultimately kill itself.

You clutched the little girl in your arms a bit tighter. “You’re… running away,” you murmured as Octavius fiddled with the monitor and its data. “You’re leaving us all here to die.” The words were barely able to clear your throat, barely able to keep themselves afloat.

He hummed in that way you noticed he did. “Running away wouldn’t be the correct term,” he replied. “Moreso… self-preserving.”

At that moment, the doors leading into the observation area were thrown open on their hinges to reveal the figures you had come to fear striding into the bay. You took three steps back as the Prowler slid down a railing and came to a smooth landing at Octavius’ side. “How are we looking, Doc?” he said as his purple, eye-lit mask dematerialized to reveal his face. His gaze was a touch crazier than you remembered it, bold and wild in a way that screamed danger.

Octavius’ cold, stony facade slid back into place as he adjusted his shades and rose, his mechanical arms lifting him off the ground. “Swimmingly,” he replied. “A few more tests, and she should be ready for lift off.”

“Perfect!” shouted Ferris abruptly, causing you to jump slightly. He clapped his hands and approached you as, behind him, Kraven hefted a news broadcasting camera onto his shoulder and began to fiddle with the settings. “Sorry to keep you waiting, babe,” said your ex as he approached you, taking two steps forward when you took one back. He showed off a disturbing, unnatural smile. “Had some loose ends to tie up.”

You sneered at him and turned, placing yourself between him and Gabriella. “You’re fucking insane, Ferris,” you hissed, inches from his sickening grin. “Taking me is one thing, but a kid? You’ve lost it, for real this time.”

“Big words, coming from you,” he said, tilting his head as the collider twisted and churned again. “Shacking up with a vigilante who crossed realities to dick you down.” He snickered to himself. “Listen, babe. That day when Spiderman - sorry, O’Hara - cracked my spine and broke my jaw and left me to suffer in that fucking alley, I realized something; why stick around in a dump like this when I can make like your little fuck buddy and squeeze myself into another dimension? Hell, why do I need you when I can just find another one of you who won’t screw me over?

“So I managed to get myself up. Crossed paths with these guys, told them…” He brought his lips close to your ear, so close you felt his breath fan across your skin. “I knew the identity of Spiderman.” He grinned again, drew back slightly to touch his forehead against yours. You would have smacked him, shoved him away, were you not still shielding the little girl in your arms. “I would say it’s not personal, babe,” he whispered. “But it is.”

Then his lips were smashed against yours, so roughly and ruthlessly you were flashed back to when you still lived with him, let him touch you, let him fuck you. He would always kiss you like this, like he possessed you, like he owned you. It only lasted a moment or two before he pulled back, forcefully plucked Gabriella from your arms, and handed her off to the Vulture, who was standing beside Octavius.

“Alright, boys,” he said as his mask materialized back over his face. “Let’s make a movie!”

Taking a few steps closer and backing you up against the glass partition of the observation area, Kraven hoisted the camera up and pointed it directly at you and Ferris. You found yourself frozen in place, petrified and staring back at your own reflection in the lens. His clawed hand came up to grip the back of your neck, and the other clapped over your mouth.

“Stick to the script,” he murmured in your ear, “and I’ll let the kid live.”

“Broadcasting to every system in New York,” said the hunter, then clicked a button and the camera and a light near the top flashed red. “...Now.”

Unbeknownst to you, across every screen in the city - televisions, phones, Times Square, everything - the broadcast crackled through and began to stream. There was not a soul in New York that was not watching.

Not one.

Ferris tilted his head at the camera in a way that made your stomach churn. Even behind his mask, you knew he was smirking and squinting his eyes in that way he did when he was playing coy. “Hello, Spiderman,” he said in a low, even voice. It sent chills crawling up your spine, made you struggle in his hold until his claws dug against your skin. “You and I have unfinished business, and it would be rude to leave hanging in the air - you know, before we both jump ship. You know where I am.” Behind you, the collider moved, and this time, it did not stop. A blast of energy exploded from the edge, shaking the building again. You stumbled slightly, raising a hand to clasp at his wrist over your mouth. “And just in case you need some incentive…”

You let out a small shriek when Ferris ripped you forward, sending you spinning around to face the camera. Before you could get anything out, he came up behind you like a vengeful apparition and grabbed your jaw, his claws digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. “Go on,” he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Cry for help. Cry for him.”

Against every ounce of willpower you had, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, you felt tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Just a moment later, they spilled over, cascading down your cheeks and staining the fabric of his glove. Yet despite your tears, despite the silent sobs racking your body, you refused to speak.

Ferris dug his claws into your cheek further, drawing a few dots of blood and pinpricks of searing pain. “Come on,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Beg for him.”

Your eyes turned behind the camera, where the Vulture held Gabriella’s collar in a grip tight enough to pale his knuckles. She stood beside him like a confused puppy, tear tracks staining her face as she watched you. And you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Not with her here. Not with Ferris.

“Spiderman,” you breathed, then cried out when Ferris yanked your hair to expose your neck and poise a claw over your throat. It gleamed in the light that the collider was throwing about the lab, shaking and burning out energy.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “His real name.”

You didn’t have time to mull over the realization that you were going to expose his identity, didn’t have time to think about that, really, it wouldn’t matter, because your reality was tearing apart, anyway. Blood collected on your cheek where his claws dipped in, and pain seared through your face.

“Miguel!” you finally wailed, feeling your tears mix with the scarlet. “Mig, we need you - please! He has Gabriella. I need you, please, Mig, I need you!”

With a grunt, Ferris spun you to the ground, then stalked forward and grasped the camera by the lens. “Come and get your girls, O’Hara. Alchemax. You have until the universe collapses. Or, you know…” He trailed off as his mask tilted downward toward you. “I decide to let one of them go a little early.”

You found yourself sitting against the row of desks holding computers, cradling Gabriella to your side as you watched Ferris and the rest of the vigilantes watch the collider charge, murmuring amongst themselves. You heard the words ‘sensors’ and ‘turrets’ and ‘muzzle for those teeth’ and ‘dead before he hits the ground.’ They had planned for Miguel, were waiting for him.

Gabriella murmured your name - the first thing she’d uttered since you both had been brought here - and you at once looked down. She clutched onto your dress, her cheeks stained with tear tracks and her chest rising and caving with deep, panicked breaths. “Is Daddy going to come and save us?” she whispered.

Doing your best to shove down the dread, and sorrow, and grief hanging suspended in your throat, you put on your best wobbling, warped smile and brushed her hair back from her face. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you replied quietly, just barely audible over the sounds of the collider. You sniffled, holding her closer. “He’ll be here any minute.”

It couldn’t have been just a few minutes later when, from the corner of your eye, you saw one of the computer screens jump to life. You thought it to be chance, a touchpad disturbed by the constant shaking and rattling of the building, but then images began to flash across the screen. You turned your head and realized they weren’t images, but letters. Words - being typed out across the monitor.

Letter by letter, your name was spelled out. The cursor blinked for a moment before everything was deleted. Then -

H E R E.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned forward. The word was typed again, this time in bold. Then in italics. The computer - no, someone behind it - was beckoning you forward. With a few words of reassuring nonsense in Gabriella’s ear, and a quick glance to make sure the men were still distracted, you crawled on your hands and knees along the row of computers. Sitting up on your heels, you faced the dim screen.

Hesitantly, you whispered, “Hello?”

The word disappeared, soon replaced by another. L Y L A.

Lyla - Miguel’s AI. A surge of hope flooded through you like a tidal wave, filling your veins, your heart, your soul.

H E I S C O M I N G.

You exhaled, blinking at the screen. Then -

D U C K.

Your body reacted before your mind even had a chance to catch up. The entire world seemed to move in slow motion as you scrambled to your feet, grabbed Gabriella and huddled behind the desk - just moments before the back wall blew outwards in a ground-shaking eruption. The glass partition shattered and the collider shrieked as debris rained upon the observation area like hail from a hellstorm. A chunk of rock sliced across your cheek, letting pain rip through your face and blood spill down your face.

Like a train unable, unwilling to stop, to keep from plowing into the first thing it saw, a flash of red and blue came tearing from the site of the explosion and collided with the purple figure of the Prowler as he struggled to his feet. They went sprawling across the rubble-covered deck, only separated when a mechanical arm grabbed the back of Spiderman’s leg and hurled him across the room.

He caught himself and landed in a striking pose - then his mask dematerialized, and Miguel’s scarlet eyes raised to the men before him. He opened his mouth, exposing those long, glinting teeth, and released an animalistic snarl that froze the blood in your veins. His hair was mussed and the lines beneath his eyes seemed deeper than before. His hands, his claws, practically trembled with the rage and fury radiating off of him in waves. In that moment he was truly more beast than man.

You shielded Gabriella’s eyes as he snapped, standing again to his full height.

“About time,” said Ferris behind his mask, then readied his own steel claws. “Let’s settle this once and for all - Spiderman.”

The next few moments were blurs of violence, of villains with metal limbs and wings and a thirst for blood all came down to assault Miguel where he stood. He was a whirlwind of action, taking blows and giving them back in a tempo you knew was not humanly possible. His teeth sank into skin. His claws tore through muscle. He roared and thrashed and fought for everything he had, because life outside may have been falling apart, but his entire life was right there inside that observation bay.

Bits of light poking through the still-settling dust from the explosion drew your eye away from the nauseating fight, pulling your attention to the place where the door used to be. Flickering from the corridor - the exit.

Gripping Gabriella’s hand so tight you knew it ached, but you didn’t care, you brought your face close to hers so that she could look into your eyes. Blood still seeped down your cheek, now staining your collar and your neck. “Listen to me,” you said to her, just audible over the sound of her father snapping one of the Vulture’s wings in half. “We’re going to run, okay? And we’re not going to look back. You hold my hand and don’t let go. Just like we practiced with the drills at school, alright?”

She nodded her head, and then you were off. You ducked your head as a piece of technology sailed past, tugging the little girl along over rubble and through the shattered doorway. From there you took the first stairwell you found, listening as the sounds of the battle grew more and more faint. Up and up you went, until you reached a heavy metal door that you shoved open with all your might. Gusts of wind rushed in to greet you, whipping your dress skirt about, whispering about your fate in your ears, and when you reached the roof, it seemed that, really, they were right.

New York was no longer recognizable. It had turned into a hellsite of glitches and chaos, entire streets folding in on themselves before completely vanishing. You nearly screamed upon realizing Harlem, Queens, Brooklyn… they were all gone. From this height you could see past where the river was supposed to be, but instead it was all… nothing. There lay a vast, wide nothingness, like a blank canvas. No ground. No buildings. No people. Everything, just… erased from existence.

Panic rose in your throat like bile, pulling you to your knees and fresh tears to your eyes. It was all true - your reality was collapsing in on itself. All those people, gone. And soon, you would be, too.

It was a long moment before you realized Gabriella was tugging on your hand, attempting to pull you further along the roof as she kept her terrified gaze trained on the door to the roof - until it was too late. You both shrieked as the Prowler emerged from the frame, his suit ragged and torn, stained with blood and his mask vanished. Scarlet ran down his face, same as yours, as he approached you on the roof.

“You want to know something funny, babe?” he said. The last word, that awful pet name, was rasped through clenched teeth as he stalked you, taking his time even as you scrambled to the edge of the building, because you both knew - you had nowhere to go. “I wasn’t really going to kill you in that alley. Just wanted to scare you, ‘ya know?” His face dropped. “Now I really wish I had.”

In a moment, Ferris had pounced, rolling you over and over yourself on the roof of Alchemax, his clawed hands tight around your throat and his knees on either side of your waist. No matter how much you struggled, how much you kicked and screamed and wailed and bucked, he refused to let go.

How ironic, came a quiet, barely-there voice. Even while it dies, the universe is attempting to fix itself.

As tears blurred your vision, you shifted your gaze to Gabriella, who watched the life being strangled from you with wide, petrified eyes. To Gabriella, who suddenly clutched at her stomach, her lips parting. To Gabriella, who, slowly, like a channel stuck on a loop slowly fading out, began to dissolve into a reality-splitting glitch.

To Gabriella, who was there one moment, and gone the next.

For a moment, you stopped your struggling. You stopped trying to grasp at Ferris’ own throat, stopped your kicking and howling. You just lay there, feeling the life drain from you slowly, staring at the spot that little girl had been just seconds ago.

You would have cried, could you have breathed. You would have screamed, could you have breathed.

You would have died inside - could you have breathed.

“Isn’t this romantic?” panted Ferris over you as his hands tightened their grip on your throat. “The two of us, going out together? Like we were always meant to?”

You knew he would have killed you then and there, had you both not heard the thundering, storming, ground-shaking thuds pounding up the stairs leading to the roof. Footsteps. A body being slammed into the walls as they ran. An ear-splitting, heart-skipping roar of your name.

Ferris let out a long, trembling, exasperated groan before he yanked you up by the neck, hauled you over to the edge of the building, and held you out like a lure over a lake. Your hands, your nails, scrabbled at his wrist as you looked down the best you could, watching as people stories and stories below scrambled for cover before glitching out of existence. Your legs dangled, your hair blew in the wind.

This was it. This was how you bit it. Not from strangulation or being winked out of your reality - but from a drop that would hit you before you knew what had happened.

Slamming out onto the porch in a frenzy of raw, untamed, wild fury, Miguel skidded to a stop and began to lunge at the Prowler - before he laid eyes upon your form at the end of his arm. His gaze searched wildly for his daughter, for his Gabriella, before it met yours. Before it took in the tears spilling down your face.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done to us, O’Hara?!” said Ferris, flexing his fingers around the column of your neck - the only thing keeping you from plummeting. “What you’ve done to our world?! Can’t you just leave us this last bit of ourselves before we all kick it? Can’t you just leave us alone?”

Miguel began to pace on the rooftop, edging closer and closer with each step. “I can offer you a bargain,” he said, but his voice came out more snarl than word. “Give her to me and I send you home. To a different home, one just like this. You’ll never know the difference.” His tone dropped. “You’ll think you’re in the real thing.”

Your legs were beginning to go numb, your fingers clawing at Ferris’ wrist losing feeling. One hand dropped to your side.

Ferris shook his head, sneering at him with all the hatred left in this collapsing, dying universe. “You already took my world,” he said. “So I’ll take away yours.”

And suddenly you were falling. Released from his grasp, because in the split moment after he let you go, his body glitched and jumped and disappeared. But you were still there, plummeting toward what remained of the earth below you.

You didn’t think it would be so fast.

Craning your neck against the wind screaming in your ears, against the sight of the Alchemax building beginning to crumble as it, too, succumbed to the fate of all else, you watched as that familiar suit of red and blue jumped off after you. Extended his arm. Released a web that, you thought, wouldn’t get there in time.

But it did. The webbing clung to your chest, pulled taut, buoyed you like a bungee cord as Miguel stuck himself to the side of the building that was still standing. He slowly lowered you to the ground, then began the descent himself.

You stood. Extended a hand to him as he raced toward you.

Then fell as you lost the feeling in your legs, lost what it was to be still.

Miguel caught you before you hit the ground, skidding to his knees and gracefully pulling you into a cradle in his lap. “Hey, baby, hey,” he said in a strained, strangled voice. Red stained his temple, the crooked bridge of his nose. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

You realized then that you were crying again, letting sobs and wails rack your body, because you knew what was happening. You knew it because everything else of this world, of this reality, had vanished. Ceased to exist. It was just him, and you, and the sky overhead. Nothing else. And soon, you would be gone, too.

“Miguel,” you gasped, reaching up a shaky hand to paw at the side of his face. “Gabriella - I tried. I really, really tried, I’m sorry -”

“Shh, baby, I know. I know you did.” Through the wetness in your eyes, through the sensation of your lower portion becoming static and fuzz, you watched as tears pricked at his own eyes. They trickled from the corners, mixing with the grime and blood on his face, and he did not wipe them away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

You cried and clung to him, desperate to hold onto the feeling of him. Of his hand cradling the back of your neck. Of his lips against yours. Of his body on your own. Of his laughter against your skin, and his fingers trailing across your back, and the warmth that spread through your chest when he smiled at you.

God, that smile. What you wouldn’t do to see it again.

“I don’t want to die, Mig,” you said, your voice wavering. You’d forgotten the feeling of your waist, of your belly. They were foreign to you. Glitched out. Going. Gone.

You did not jump when Miguel opened his mouth and released a stifled sob, his warm, salty tears dripping onto your face. “I know,” he shushed you through his own cries. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Arms dropped. Your chest stilled.

“Hey,” you said, nudging your nose against his when he leaned down to press his lips against your temple. He met your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. “Look.” Your gaze tilted upward, upward, to the sky. He followed it. “No smoke.”

You were right. Without the buildings to churn out smog, without the people to feed the machines, without the universe to choke itself out… the sky had cleared. And it was not violet, or plum.

It was lilac.

Miguel dipped his head again, his lips quivering as you stared up at him. “I love you,” he said.

You would have said it back - were you not already gone.

He stared at his now-empty arms, eyes trained on the spot beneath him you had just been. There was no trace left. Nothing left behind, nothing to tell him you had even been there.

For a long, long moment, Miguel sat still, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and his lips parted. Then he dropped to all fours, shoulders shaking and knuckling the ground, and opened his mouth to scream. It was a wail heard in every corner of the empty universe, a cry that shattered everything of the nothing left. Filled with agony, and grief, and horror, and guilt. Again and again he screamed, fangs glinting and tears gleaming and throat hoarse.

When he at last could not take any more, he collapsed onto his side. Hands twitching. Chest shaking.

Nothing.

For a long while in that empty universe, it was still. Silent. Lilac.

Then, from behind Miguel, there came a voice. “Hey, boss,” said Lyla gently. “Ready to go home?”

—

Earth - 2943

New York

Roses, peonies, lilacs, irises… the bundles of flowers crowded your workstation at the back of your store like a wildflower field had grown right in the middle of the little shop on seventy-first. Greens and pinks and yellows and oranges filled your windows. Petals littered the floor like a chapel. Living walls carefully and lovingly-kept occupied the sides, a rainbow display of every flower and blossom one could name.

Your little flower shop was doing well - and you couldn’t have been more proud. You lived alone in your apartment just upstairs, your rent was on time, you didn’t have to work a second job at all to keep yourself fed.

Everything was perfect. As it should have been.

Your attention was drawn to the front of the store when the little bell above it chimed, signaling someone had just entered your shop. “One second!” you called around the corner, hurrying to clip off the remaining thorns from the blossoms. “I’ll be right there!”

When you were finished, you wiped your hands off on your apron, gathered the bunch of flowers up in your arms, and swept around to the front room. There, a man and a little girl - his daughter, no doubt, they looked almost identical - stood admiring the displays you’d set out just last night.

“Good morning!” you greeted them, carefully setting the bundle down. “Can I help you find anything?”

Brushing a bit of hair from your face, you were able to see the man more clearly. Your breath hitched in your throat; you were staring at the one of the best looking men you’d ever seen. Tan skin and cheekbones placed high on his face, full brows and lips, a sinewy body and a tapered waist… he was beautiful.

The man smiled at you - with his lips closed, but nevertheless it was gorgeous - and jutted out his hip to place his hand on. Oh, fuck, that was hot. “Just browsing,” he said kindly.

You found yourself unable to pull your gaze away from him. You could not say precisely what it was, but there was something that drew you to him. Like a magnet between walls, almost, yearning and needing to be closer.

When he realized you were staring, he smiled wider.

“Heh - sorry,” you said, shaking your head. You leaned over your counter as he meandered closer, letting his daughter marvel at your flowers. Up close, you were able to see the tired, exhausted lines beneath his eyes. “It’s just… have we met before? There’s just something about you…”

Unbeknownst to you, because he could never let you know, could never let you go… you had met before. In a different universe. In seven, to be precise. He had met you as a teacher, a stripper, a doctor, a thief, a hero, a villain… He’d seen you in every form your soul had to offer. And he would continue to do so. Because he wasn’t going to let you go.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

He chuckled, his free hand reaching up to touch the delicate skin of his throat. “No, I don’t think so. First time in here.” He tilted his head, smiled at you. “But… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.” Then, like every other time before, and every other time that would come after, he stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Miguel. You are?”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara across the spiderverse #miguel atsv #atsv #atsv x you #atsv x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel o’hara atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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thetxtdevil · 5 months ago

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Fashion Week

Yeonjun x Reader

summary: Yeonjun goes to Paris, France for Fashion Week to look at the latest hot styles. He's also going to meet up with a super hot model.

content: smut, fashionista idol yeonjun, supermodel fem.reader, paris/fashion week setting, they've hooked up before, strip tease?, blowjob, (fem) masturbation, consumption of cum :P, fingering, condom use finally, doggy style

word count: 1.4k

The sun was bright, shining down the many fashion lovers attending Paris Fashion Week. Yeonjun was known to attend the men's portion of fashion week. He was all for the new trends and beautiful garments that matched his own beauty. Once the shows he was invited to ended he sent his asks for certain styles and quickly heads for another show specifically for women.

Luckily, the french weather had suddenly changed, sun covered by clouds making it more bearable for Yeonjun to run down the cobblestone road to a old lavish building. Walking in the garden that surround the building, the green grass became covered with paparazzi. Yeonjun takes his time to wave and pose before continuing his journey to the show.

He loved all things fashion, the many styles, colors, its a way to express yourself however, in this show he was there for a specific supermodel. Sitting down on a wire framed chair in the front row Yeonjun relaxes under the cool breeze of air conditioning. The many women strut in spring inspired attire passing by as he watches contently. Yeonjun turn his head right when the the star of the show turns the corner.

Yeonjun leans forward elbows on his knees, he was in absolute awe. You, the supermodel he's been waiting for, strutting in confidence. Wearing an intricately made haute couture dress that fit like a glove. Yeonjun watches you closely, looking at you like you’re his next meal. Trying to focus on your walk, you simply glance towards the man keeping a straight face. Walking past him, you move your finger as a wave to the man. Yeonjun sees this little action, smirking and continues to study the dress and the definition of your exposed back.

After the show, Yeonjun makes no time for more paparazzi to take pictures of him. He was determined to make it to the back stage before you leave. A little overwhelmed by the many models changing and trying to leave, a women with a clipboard and headphones walks straight up to him, “Are you Yeonjun?”

“Uhhh yes...”

“Y/n asks for you in her dressing room.”

Yeonjun tilts his head, very pleased to have an escort to your room. The man follows the assistant making his way through the crowd of models. He arrives to a door, separating you from the crowd. Yeonjun slowly twists the doorknob and walks in. A substantial difference between the outside and the room, it was quiet with faint classical music playing in the background, and big widows that arched over head. Greenery framed the glass with a distant view of the Eiffel tower, it was simply romantic.

“I didn’t think I’d see you at the show” you walk into Yeonjun’s view hugging him. Yeonjun takes his chance to feel the expensive fabric along your body. You were currently in a slip dress worn underneath the original runway dress, the man's hands lingered for a while, he missed his little love affair with the model.

Your first big modeling gig was exciting for you and that excitement increased when you met Yeonjun at a after party. Hitting it off, naturally he lead you to his hotel room and since then every time you two were in the same city you guys meet.

You both separate when you walk to the partition, hiding the vanity, taking off your earrings and placing them on the surface. Yeonjun was not too far behind you, knowing you had nothing to hide when changing.

"After this I was thinking we can go out for a walk, get cappuccinos-" you stop mid-sentence when you feel hands unclasping your necklace. A slight shiver runs down your spine feeling his fingers graze your skin. This reaction was not unnoticed by the man. Yeonjun gets closer to your back, lightly tracing your arms, placing the delicate diamond necklace into your open palm. You watch him through your vanity mirror, watching as he presses his lips to your neck but you weren't prepared with how satisfying it would feel. Eyes fluttering shut, you tilt your head to the side letting him lightly kiss more of your exposed skin.

"or we can just stay in this dressing room a little longer." you smile looking at Yeonjun's same reaction reflected on the mirror.

Turing around, you plant your lips against his plush ones. Delicate fingers stroking Yeonjun's black hair. His big hands around your waist, all this felt like heaven.

Making the kiss harsher, you push the man towards the velvet sofa in the middle of the room. Falling into the cushions with him, you start to grind against his hard on. Moans slipping from both ends you break the kiss, lifting yourself off of Yeonjun. Slipping out of your slip dress letting it fall on the ground and then slowly taking off your black sheer panties throwing them at Yeonjun all while seductively staring at him.

Yeonjun catches your flung garment, feeling them to see that they were soaked. He watches you hover over him crawling down hooking your fingers to the band of his pants, unbuttoning, and lowering both the trousers and briefs. You reach your hand down between your legs, gathering your juices to lubricate Yeonjun's stiff cock. The man drools and groans at the sight, laying his head down on the couch. Hissing once he feels your lips wrap around his girth, skillfully bobbing your head up and down. God you were so enchanting, it would be so sad to leave you in agony.

"Touch yourself" Yeonjun commands.

You look up at him through your lashes and a mouth full of dick. Yeonjun nods his head confirming what he said. Continuing your pleasurable sucking with one hand you reach to your dripping pussy gently rubbing circles on your clit. Your eyes roll moaning against Yeonjun's cock sending electric vibrations causing the man to climax. "Fuck, you're good at this." Yeonjun can't help but thrust up into your throat to finally catch to his release. You still moaning, you decided to push the beauty under you over the edge by removing your glistening hand from you to his balls. With a loud "fuck" Yeonjun's cum was running down your throat and you gulping down every last bit.

You lift yourself up kneeling in front of the man catching your breathe. You stare at his sweaty face, smiling to yourself you lean in to kiss him. "Now lets get this designer outfit off you hmm?" Slowly but surely you undress Yeonjun revealing his lovely toned body. Not able to control yourself, you drag your hands on his abs delighted by the soft skin. Yeonjun smirks at your entranced state, "Bend over and let me see your ass, love." You obey his command, you twist on your knees turning away, grabbing a throw pillow to relax your elbows on.

Yeonjun changes positions kneeling in between your legs getting a handful of your plush ass. Tilting his head to the side as he sighs at how ravenous you looked, with one hand he slides his fingers within your slit then into your hole, "damn you're wet." Face already shoved in the pillow your whines were muffled. Yeonjun's free hand scavenges in his abandoned blazer looking for a condom. The plastic materiel gets into his reach, he puts it into his mouth biting it then rips it open. You let out a bratty cry when Yeonjun removes his fingers to apply the condom. "Don't worry, love, you're going to get what you want."

You look over your shoulder with plead in your eyes. Yeonjun lays his torso on your back kissing your shoulder as he rubs his cock among your glistening folds.

"Ready?"

"Yes god jjun just do i-"

You choke on your sentence when Yeonjun slams his dick into you, pushing your body forward into the pillow. Both of you pushed into delirium by the delicious feeling. Jolted moans escape your mouth going with the pace of Yeonjun's thrusts. You look back at him seeing his sinful concentration. "S-so good ah-" you try to praise but the feeling of his tip hitting that sweet spot had your back arching. Flames burning your core at the intense drive, walls begin to clench hard around Yeonjun. He huffs at the tightness, bending down again planting kisses and reaching around your hips to rub your clit.

Screaming and bending your back even more, pleasure was too sweet. "I-im mmm going to c-umm" you slur your words, it was out of your best effort. Yeonjun was close too, working hard through your tight walls he was determined to make you cum the same time as him. A long drawn out moan escapes your pretty pink lips, your high washes over you dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun finally cums gasping for air, pulling out to remove the uncomfortable wrapping.

With the energy you had left, you move to your side leaving room for the man to fit snug beside you. Noses touching, soft kisses, you both giggle at the euphoric moment of having sex in Paris.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you

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ressjeon · 2 years ago

Text

desperate | pjm (m.)

pairing: model!jimin x pa!reader

summary: being Jimin's assistant made you immune from his flirty tactics, but somehow you find it hard to resist him when he unusually becomes desperate.

rating: 18+ | word count: 3.8k

genre/au: smut (a bit of plot if you squint)

warnings/content: crude language, masturbation, fellatio, handjob, deepthroating, face fucking?, switch dynamics, a lot of pining ig, cheeky jimin that has many lustful thoughts and he's a brat too oml

a/n: been a long while and this is unplanned as always lmao. was supposed to be posted on the 14th but the universe said no so i couldn’t post it. anyways, this is for the 2nd anniversary of this blog’s official debut in this community so why not post a fic of the person who made me start writing in the first place, as the first fic of 2023 just like he was my first fic in this blog (just in time with vibe’s release, his solo album announcement and his official partnership with Dior too! 0.0). thank you Jimin for being my light, i love you 🥰

― masterlist — navigation — wips

You’re currently on your knees, helping Jimin out with his problem.

Not that kind, goodness no. He’s been doing practice poses for his shoot as soon as he arrived like he always does in each photoshoot. You ignored his flushed look when he entered the studio, already knowing his morning routine and went straight for the pre-shoot meeting. Everything was smooth until you noticed some stain on his black pants when you were checking him for any final touches.

So here you are now, dabbing the wet wipes around the spot on his thigh while he’s leaning against the frame of the glass partition behind him.

He’s lucky that most of the staff are not here yet so you have time to remove the stain from his pants, a cum stain that almost made you scream when he told you sheepishly that it was from some girl he fucked this morning before coming to the studio.

“are you still mad? i told you i didn't realize she’d be a creamer”

In any other situation, this would've been a strange exchange with someone you essentially work for. Jimin has no filter in the way he talks to you but you don’t really mind it as you do the same. You and he have grown closer to one another each day since you started working for him so these types of conversations became normal between you both.

It's one of the perks of Jimin hiring someone around his age for a personal assistant. You've been with him from the very start of his career, barely scraping anything during that time with the both of you fresh from graduation. When he initially asked you, you looked at him incredulously because his plan was quite risky. Jimin understood your hesitance but he was surprised when you finally agreed after a bit of consideration.

Your friends said that it must be the puppy eyes that he constantly gives you but no, you knew of Jimin during college. It’s common knowledge from your mutual acquaintances of how hardworking he is and you’ve witnessed it a few times before so you said yes because why not. You're both in the same boat anyways, still looking for other jobs and who knows, if this works then it will be great for your future careers.

You remember when Jimin got his very first paycheck, running up to you with a tight hug and asking you something that you’ve been wanting for a while. You were confused but then he cracked a smile and revealed that he wanted to treat you as a gratitude for doing your best to find casting calls and gigs for him. You were happy of course, with both of your hard work finally coming to fruition.

This dynamic you have with Jimin as a very close friend and colleague has been pretty balanced as the years go by. There are times when you fought, unavoidable with your contrasting personalities but you both became comfortable with one another regardless. This makes your teamwork efficient with more understanding from both sides as your relationship gets closer.

“believe me, it’s hers, not mine i swear” he adds, repeating what he explained earlier when you don’t answer him.

Thoughts aside, you do, of course, believe him because Jimin’s one of the most responsible guys you’ve ever known. He always comes prepared for photoshoots and arrives early to do last-minute check-ups despite what his shenanigans are the night before like earlier today. He’ll never go bare with anyone to avoid risks because he already experienced some scares before from past hookups.

No answer from you still but it’s partly because you've been in shambles on the inside with what you feel for him these days. You’re not only annoyed by this whole thing but you also felt uneasy at what he said. You’ve been used to it but you somehow felt the sting when he explicitly laid out his latest hookup.

You’ll never admit to yourself or him why because it would be unprofessional.

At the same time, you’ve also been fighting to focus only on finishing up what you’re doing, occasionally straying your eyes toward the glass windows to calm yourself down. He was practically naked in front of you, with his damn gold necklace where its round pendant dances around his belly button and pointing down to the huge bulge he was sporting. And it would’ve helped if he’s covered, at least while you’re still on the floor. But apparently, he felt the need to not zip it up and just wear it as it is, torturing you with his sculpted body.

You shouldn’t mind it but you’re a bit suspicious because Jimin’s always been involved in his photoshoots. He always consults with you regarding his outfits even if it’s not part of your job. He often asks for your input as well, discussing his ideas with you before he gives them a go. For this shoot, he picked this specific hooded jacket among all the ones that you’ve shown him, insisting on wearing it without anything under it because this one is apparently very loose.

Which became an immense distraction to you.

You remember zoning out earlier in the meeting room when Jimin was picking the final photos from his pre-shoot, trying all the concepts that he’s been wanting to do. You were already a mess with his slicked-back hair and exposed body along with his tight pants. And now you couldn't stop staring at his veiny hands as they hovered around the pictures. The gold rings on both of his index fingers didn’t help either, turning your focus on them instead of listening to him explaining to you and his stylist.

Jimin of course notices and teases you like always. Though he’s been doing it more frequently these days, adding more to the brewing tension between you.

He ran his fingers through the pinned pictures on the pegboard and casually picked up the pictures near where you were standing by the edge of the table. He leans closer and closer so you have to fight the urge to look at him, instead focusing your attention on talking with this stylist.

“you alright, __?”

You just scoff and roll your eyes at him, brushing him off with an excuse of being sleep deprived. He’s doing this on purpose, he could’ve lied to you earlier about fucking someone because how is he still hard? Thankfully he zipped up for now so his oversized jacket covers it but you knew he had a hunch about why you’d been acting weird around him right now.

Jimin's been smiling, knowing that his current hairstyle has been your favourite. He noticed it when he had his rainbow blond one last time where you couldn't stop touching his hair, hands constantly on it whether hair spraying it or simply tugging its strands whenever you can, reasoning that it's looking messy though it's not.

You couldn't stop looking at him too, eyes staying on him more than you ever did since working for him. That's why he specifically talked to the stylist and the photographer about bringing this hairstyle back for this photoshoot since it’ll also fit with his whole look. Also, you’ve been sneaking glances at him today which has been lifting up his mood. It just adds to how hard his dick is already, affecting you this much makes him very excited for today.

“Jimin, you can't do the shoot with this” you will yourself to ask, relieved that your voice came out sterned. When you look up at him, Jimin swears that his cock just twitched at the view of you in this position, his thoughts playing a different scenario where you’re giving him the suck of his life.

“then help me..” he mindlessly responded, totally not paying attention to what you’re referring to. He's not sure really, his mind’s still hazy and all he can think of is the ache of his balls from not being able to cum earlier.

“i’m trying” you grumble, ignoring his pouting. He’s adorable when he’s like this, and he uses that on you when he wants something. Sometimes it works when he combines it with his affectionate touches but you have to be strong this time. You’re not even sure what he’s specifically talking about but then you’ve also been occupied in trying to fight off your growing lust for him.

Jimin’s pout turns into a grin after catching your eyes flickering from looking anywhere and on his bulge again, he can sense how your hand’s so tempted to touch it with how much you’re gripping his pants. Your hand continues to fidget, eyes unfocused as you continue to wipe off that stain as hard as you can just in case. You don’t look annoyed now either, but you’re wearing a struggling expression that tells him just how conflicted you are at this moment.

You’re beyond torn because that fucking tent of his pants is dissolving your annoyance little by little with sinful thoughts already creeping up your mind the longer you stay down the floor.

“where are you looking at?”

“the city view looks good from here”

You automatically answer, clearing your throat in the process before gathering up the pack of wet wipes and the damp cloth along with a bowl of cold water from the ground. You avoid looking at Jimin’s face because you knew he was going to try something now that he noticed your slight slip of judgment.

“yeah, the view is amazing but my view from here is better”

“up or down?”

“both, but i’d say down. you’d say the opposite, right __?”

You almost dropped what you're holding at his remark but this is nothing new to you: Jimin shamelessly throwing his lewd innuendos at you at any chance he got. You indulge him in it, after all, it’s just harmless flirting between friends, something that you never expected when you took this job. Sometimes it's part of your banter, you doing the same thing to him which catches him off guard sometimes when he's focusing on something while working. You especially do it when discussions of his escapades come to light, which you helped in arranging because of his demanding schedules.

Yes, you’re this dedicated to your job even if it sometimes causes an ache in your heart.

“why? didn’t you fuck someone?” you deflect, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affecting you.

“yeah but i didn’t get to cum, couldn’t…” he trails off as he closes his eyes and grabs his crotch to hopefully feel a little bit of comfort but it's no use. He wants to tell you why he couldn't, wants to let you know who has been stopping him from getting off with other people but you don't care anyways.

“then get rid of it, you still have time”

You state with urgency, nervously looking around if anyone saw but everyone’s been doing their own thing. Patting his thigh, you stand up from your kneeling position and push aside your want to help him in getting rid of it. He might be good at hiding his expressions but he does look like he’s been struggling for hours since he arrived on set. Jimin didn’t do anything but huff before retreating to the dressing room to take care of his problem.

Now that most of the staff are here, you check in with them for any possible last-minute changes. It took your mind off Jimin a bit but your eyes couldn’t stop glancing at the door of his dressing room. You shake your head, pushing yourself to focus on your current task. It’s still early but you want to make sure Jimin’s ready when the scheduled time for his photoshoot is on. This is an important shoot for him so you just hope that he finishes as soon as possible to not keep everyone waiting.

After you’ve double-checked everything, you decide to fetch Jimin. Nearing his door though is making you more agitated than you already are. You’re about to knock when you hear his loud, sexy groan. fuck.

You haven't really heard how Jimin sounds properly because each time you catch him fucking someone, either during his breaks or random times when you need something for him to confirm, his partners’ moans usually overpower his so this is quite new, and you won’t deny that you'd love to hear more of it.

“oh fuck..fuck”

Jimin being this loud causes you to panic at the possibility of anyone in the studio hearing him like this. This might not be new for some of the staff but still, you just don’t want everyone to hear how he sounds like.

You took a deep breath before wandering your eyes around if anyone was watching but thankfully, everyone was busy.

He wonders if you’re listening, purposely moaning louder than he intends to as he fists his cock. You probably don’t care and if you ever catch him, you’ll just ignore his attempts and scold him for taking too long at this. It’s always been the case with you but he does find it amusing to piss you off more.

So when he hears the door opening, a smirk creeps up on his face before opening his half-lidded eyes.

“y–”

“shut up” you seethe as you approach his propping form on his vanity. He thinks it's just one of his imaginations again, indulging him with his fantasies. But when he feels you grab the chain of his wrap necklace towards you, his eyes open fully before releasing a small gasp. The smaller chain loop fastens gradually around his neck when you begin pulling its long chain gently while looking into his eyes. He maintains eye contact and you notice the hunger and mischief in them as you continue to pull his necklace.

“s-shit” he whines quietly, though the smirk still remains on his gorgeous face as his hand continues to stroke his cock even faster. His other hand reaches for the dark bottle of lube, bringing it in front of you before pumping its nozzle on his very angry tip.

He closes his eyes again, placing the bottle back on the table while his other hand spreads the lube around his dick. You’re speechless for a second with this whole show he’s putting on, pausing to watch him. It’s when his other hand comes up in an attempt to touch you to come closer that breaks your reverie, swatting his hand away.

You stare him down, brows scrunching while contemplating what to do next. This would be crossing whatever boundaries you have with Jimin both in your personal and professional relationship. You had to look away from him to think this through. You’re used to seeing him semi-naked with other people before but not like this. Him now naked from the waist down in front of you, his tight black pants pooling around his ankles.

It’s Jimin’s desperate whimpers that made your mind up. There’s no point in denying wanting the same thing he desires from you.

“i’ll help you but don't make a sound” you command and he nods, too fucked out to respond because all he wants is his release.

Your hand replaces his before you kneel on the hard floor, immediately swallowing his cock to not waste more time. One of Jimin’s hands is on your head at once, not gripping your hair but just holding onto you for support because fuck, your mouth feels so much better than his hands, hell it's even better than pussies he’s had before.

It’s you, of course, Jimin has always thought about how much better you’ll be at pleasuring him than others. He smiles after noticing your demeanour change as soon as your mouth envelops him. It must be the lube flavour that he specifically picked knowing apple’s one of your favourites. Your mouth is greedily sucking him in now, warm tongue lapping up the entirety of his cock.

"you were drooling for my cock earlier, hmm? bet you wouldn't mind sucking me off in front of everyone outside" his mocking tone shudders, his attempt of gaining control wavering with you being encouraged by what he said. You bob your head faster, opening your mouth more to take him deeper cause the view from where you are is spurring you to do more. Jimin in his fucked out glory is a sight to watch, his gold link earrings swaying as he tosses his head back, his plump lips getting swollen from him biting them to hold his moans in.

You want to see more of it.

When Jimin’s not closing his eyes from the pleasure, they never leave yours as he stares right into them. He surprises you when he gets up from leaning on the vanity, his hand moving from the top of your head down to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him. This made him push deeper into your mouth so you loosen your jaw, the new angle allowing more of his length in your mouth. As soon as his tip reaches the back of your throat, you’re unable to stop releasing gurgling moans when it nudges further.

“can’t..believe..you’re.. choking on my cock right now..”

Jimin rasps needily as he rolls his hips slowly, deeper with each thrust. The vibrations from your moans are not helping him in holding his orgasm longer. He’s been trying hard because he wants to prolong this, relish this view of you on your knees and your mouth on him because who knows if this will ever happen again. He’s losing himself, grinding on your face while his hand starts massaging your nape in time with his thrusts.

Now you’re confused because you for sure thought that he’ll start fucking your throat roughly the moment you allowed him but he’s not. You take a deep breath through your nose as you come up, readying your throat in case he’ll change his mind later when he’s close to cumming. But the way he’s touching your nape is making you relax, distracting you from your main reason for helping him in the first place.

He’s close already, his cock's been throbbing before you started bobbing your head earlier. His pace also changes a bit faster but is still slow and you’re confused as to why he’s been holding back. His breathing turns erratic and his lower abs are flexing. You know it so before he does so dig your nails into both of his meaty thighs before one of your hands leaves and pushes away his hold on your head.

You take him deeper until your lips reach the skin of his crotch, immediately pushing back when he grabs your head again, releasing his cock from your mouth which causes Jimin to whimper in frustration.

“that's for making me wipe other girl's cum on your pants” you glare at him, voice hoarse from taking him that deep in your throat. Standing up from kneeling was making your legs wonky, feeling numb from your previous position but your mind’s not on it with your prior annoyance resurfacing because of his attempt to pacify you.

Jimin, however, begins laughing.

Your brows rise from his reaction, totally not expecting this because you were really sure that you already got him under you.

“so you’re jealous after all,”

“i’m not, i wouldn’t help you if i were” you counter, avoiding his eyes as you pull his jacket back on him, it was slipping on one side already, showing his muscular arms and the tattoo on his ribs. Your fingers have minds of their own when you start tracing each of the letters, causing Jimin to shiver at your touches but the devilish smile remains on his handsome face.

“but you’re doing it to prove something, right?”

You don’t know how to answer him and you don’t want to tell him the truth because it’ll just feed his already massive ego. Instead, you grab his swollen dick, hot and heavy in your hands and begin stroking him roughly. The slick from the lube, his precum and your saliva made it easier for your plan. There’s no way you’ll let him, he’ll never be able to make you admit it.

The smile disappears from his lips as his whole body shakes with a cry, not expecting your punishing pace on him. You want to look at him, to watch his smug face morph back into a pliant one.

But you can’t.

Jimin couldn't cum earlier while fucking another girl because all he can think about is you and now you’re doing what exactly he’s been imagining for months, years. You’re still not looking at him, your brows scrunching in focus on jerking him off. He can’t stop himself from bucking into your hands when your thumb starts flicking his mushroom tip, nudging his frenulum with your index finger before squeezing his shaft each time you do it.

You’re honestly amazed at how Jimin manages to hold off his climax this long but it shouldn’t surprise you when he has such incredible control of his body. It’s when your other hand reaches out to pull his necklace again to pull him towards you, that he finally gives in. It never crossed your mind that modifying this necklace by combining it with his gold link could serve as an advantage for you when playing with him.

Jimin’s hand leaves the table to muffle his mouth, eyes somewhat begging you to let him cum. You smile and he lets himself go through a series of incoherent cries, still covering his mouth like you ordered him to. And despite knowing how loud he can be, you quickly move to remove his hands to finally hear the delicious moans that he’s been obediently keeping.

He continues to rock his hips despite the overstimulation, trying to catch your eyes and when you do look up, he’s back to purposely biting his lips as he gapes at you with his dark brown eyes.

He’s grinning while still biting his lips as he shoots more of his cum into your hands, it’s spilling all over but most of it landed on your black sheer top, especially on the sleeves.

“Jimin what the fuck! you came so much..” your enamoured eyes are focusing on his slit that’s still releasing loads of his sticky cum around your fingers.

“yeah, been holding them back” for you, he wants to add but he just chuckles, breathlessly and all giddy while eyeing you. It could be high from his mind-blowing orgasm but it’s more with how he basically just covered you with his cum.

You look cute when you’re annoyed, grumbling because of the stains on your sheer puffy top. Some of them are on your black leather pants too, and this just adds to his amusement as he watches you walking around frantically, looking for something to clean you both up with before his photoshoot finally commences in about a minute or so.

Jimin’s not sorry of course, seeing his cum stains on you is stirring something carnal in him. It's his way of marking you because you're his now, well, kind of. He'll just make sure to properly mark you next time.

e/n: i initially wrote this around the time it came out and during his birthday but wasn’t planning on posting it until later cuz i do have other priority fics but i just have to since i wasn’t able to post him last year 😭

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lalunanymph · 5 months ago

Text

𖨆♡𖨆 ran haitani x fem!reader, hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ yearning for revenge after the untimely death of your father, you come to discover an underground organization called bonten and how its executive may have all the answers you need. the big catch? you were the first ever girl that broke his heart.

: ̗̀➛ explicit sex, a/nal play, mentions of a miscarriage, grief, religious undertones, drinking, smoking, (f) oral receiving, mild exhibitionism, c/um eating, public sex, mentions of pregnancy, ran’s untameable daddy kink

masterlist 🌙

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 #𝟒

No one can say that Ran Haitani was a man who broke his promises.

Not when he had his beautiful girlfriend in a mating press, one hand around your delicate neck and the other tracing tight circles on your puffy clit.

“R-Ran—ah-ah—slow down!”

Your whines were overshadowed by the obscene squelches coming from your joint bodies, and all your boyfriend did was chuckle.

The promise in question that he had to fulfill? The word of honor he had given himself to fuck you in that little tight dress the moment you both came back from the mission.

And, oh—did he carry out his promise with zeal.

This was your—what? Fifth round? Sixth?

You had lost all concept of time the moment you stepped back into your shared apartment and the doors closed behind your tense forms. Ran had instantly pressed you against the wall, ripping off your dress—ripping it, not even caring enough to remove it from your frame—and taking you on the floor like a lust-crazed animal; Kisaki’s blood staining between your bodies and smearing the pristine marble floors.

After finding your first release of the night, he had brought you into the bathroom, intent on cleaning you up before he got distracted by the suds clinging like a second skin onto the curves of your breasts. In the wake of christening the bathtub with your loud moans, he took you once more in the shower with your palms pressed to the glass partition where all you could was mewl pathetically and take everything he was giving you.

But Ran was not that mean to deny you rest after such an arduous night. He did let you rehydrate yourself with some cranberry juice before bending you over the couch arm, the ecstasy in his veins second to the exhilarating feeling of your cunt muscles massaging his cock.

Flooding you with his seed, he had finally—finally—brought you to bed where you could rest your aching limbs. But this respite didn’t last long and he soon slid his insatiable cock into your already swollen walls, fucking you from behind before putting you on your back, right where you are now.

“Where’s all your bravado, baby?” he grunted, that same bright grin of bloodlust now purely filled with lust. He didn’t care that your thighs were unceasingly quaking or that it had been a full three hours of non-stop fucking. “‘I’d probably like it, Rin’—were you fucking serious? Did you know how much I wanted to slap that pretty pussy of yours for saying shit like that to my baby brother of all people?”

“Didn’t mean it, Ran,” you mewled, gripping his amethyst locks tighter, tears clinging to the ends of your lashes. “I was just—ah—high on the kill.”

Your pathetic rebuttals were choked back when his palm tightened around your neck. Manhandling you with ease and setting you onto your hands and knees, your eyes snapped wide open when you felt the head of his cock nudge past the tight ring of your ass.

“Ran—”

“I know baby, I know,” he soothed, leaning over to slide open the bedside drawer to uncap a bottle of lube. The warmed drizzle between your cheeks made you seize in anticipation and he kneaded your hip. “Relax, baby. I’ll prep you.”

With his lubed thumb, he pushed past the star-shaped circle, your forbidden walls almost expelling the foreign pressure until you felt his other hand cup your mound, middle finger tenderly rubbing your engorged clit. Shivers of pleasure spiked down your spine and he used that distraction to settle his large thumb fully into your anus.

Unable to hold yourself up for any longer, you crumpled forward, ass pushed even higher for him to do anything he pleased with it.

“You good, baby?”

All you could do was make a soft sound of confirmation.

“Gonna fuck your pretty ass now, ‘kay?”

Your soft okay was swallowed when he pulled you closer, thumb replaced by the fat head of his cock. Through it all, Ran paced you, constantly rubbing your clit to get your muscles to relax until eventually—

“God, baby,” his guttural groan could’ve probably woken Rin up on the other end of the hallway. “S’tight f’me—fuck!—your ass is perfection, princess.”

With the sheets bunched under your white knuckles, you were nothing but a fucked-out sexdoll for him to do as he pleased. Every push of his hips—every rut of his cock deeper into your throbbing ass—made you expel full-bodied moans, the sounds unlike that one filthy porn video he had once made you watch while he ate you out.

“Ran, Ran, Ran,” you keened out his name, completely lost in the feel of his cock making its mark in your ass; the sloppy sounds of his thrusts and the lube dripping down your thighs getting you high enough to release high-pitched moans at every hot thrust.

If this didn’t wake your neighbours, you were convinced not even a shootout could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Y/N...” You peeked back to find him with his teeth bared, dreamy lilac eyes lowered in complete pussy drunkness, those soft violet locks stuck to his forehead with sweat. His palms were hot presses on your stomach, gently tweaking your nipples, and the pleasure was too much—all too much that you had to alleviate it; fucking your trembling pussy with two fingers as you came for the sixth and final time tonight.

Pulling his cock out, he sprayed his seed onto your back, harsh breathing loud and hot on the inner shell of your ear. There was no way you were tethered to earth; crashing down onto the mattress where he followed, completely exhausted from the numerous rounds. Outside, a milky dawn was peeking past the curtains and you flickered your tired gaze to the alarm clock, unsurprised to find it a little past 6AM.

Ran placed one shaky kiss into your hair and reached for the box of tissues you had prepared on the side of the bed, wiping his release from your back and tossing the soiled material onto the floor. Bringing you into the warmth of his embrace, he fished in his bedside table for his cigarettes, lighting one up and passing it to you. Your hands shook when you took it from him, inhaling the first drag of nicotine which lifted your already satiated body to all new heights.

The two of you laid in silence, no sounds beyond the slight crackle of both your cigarettes after every inhale. Ash was spilling onto the bed, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

“So, what’re you gonna do now?”

Ran’s voice jolted you out from your reverie and you glanced up at him. Those lilac eyes appraised you with curiosity and despite one whole night of fucking, you still blushed at the intensity of how he was staring at you, dropping your gaze shyly to your palm laying across his stomach. You traced the tattoos on the left side of his body that curled around his skin like the tendrils of smoke he exhaled, drunk on his warmth.

“I guess I’ll live now,” you murmured. “Dad’s killer is dead and it’s time to think about rebuilding my life.”

A beat of silence. “Mikey’s offer still stands, y’know?”

You tried hard not to get carried away by your silent excitement, clearing your throat. “You sure you want me in Bonten?”

“The spot’s all yours, babe,” he teased and wrapped one arm around you, tiredly nuzzling the back of your head. “‘Sides, it’ll be hot to see you kick ass all the time. You have great potential as a spy—Bonten’s little honey trap.”

Smothering a smile at his nickname for you, you quipped, “You sure you’ll be alright if I have to seduce other men?”

He smothered his cigarette into his own ashtray and dusted his hands, grinning. “As long as I’m the only one who can fuck your brains out by the end of the day—sure.” Ran’s reasoning was simple and you had to snort at how easy he made it all sound.

You took one last drag and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on your bedside table.

“Okay.”

Just like that, you sealed your fate as part of Bonten and of his life. His sculpted arms draped you closer across his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek. There was no need for you to look up to know that he was grinning like a Cheshire-cat.

“Ouch, fuck—”

“Stay still, miss,” the tattoo artist Mikey swore by as the best in the city reassured you.

He patted your arm and your gritted teeth was part of a melange of sounds which included the gentle whir of the needle currently jabbing into your skin with the speed of a thousand pricks. Beside you, Ran snickered at your expression of pain and you leveled him with a glare. You were going to kick his ass if he kept this up.

“We’re almost finished.”

From his words, the smarting pain lessened and a second later, a cool salve was spread onto the skin above your right thigh. He wrapped your tattoo in a bandage and gave you a thumbs up. “All done Mrs. Haitani.”

You were in too much pain to correct him of your true relationship status, and winced at the inflamed skin.

“Remember—you would need to disinfect it twice a day starting from tonight.”

Ran handled the payment while you fixed the hem of your blazer dress. One glance down at your leg and pride bloomed hot and fresh in your heart. The Bonten tattoo—modeled after Izana’s earring—stood out like a proud smirk on the expanse of your skin.

“Looks good,” Ran commented, quick to eye the same design he sported on his neck that was currently on the soft skin of your thigh.

“It’s pretty,” you cooed and took his offered hand, leaving the tattoo shop located near Roppongi. The afternoon sun was warm on your skin, draping over both your forms like a blanket of honey.

Once in the car, you admired the design, pulling up the hem of your dress to trace the tattoo with your eager eyes.

“Can you see it peeping past my dress?”

“Are you trying to flash me while I’m driving?” You didn't have to look at him to know that he would be smirking.

“In your dreams, Haitani.”

“Y’know you’re about to be a Haitani, too, right?” He brought your left hand up and skimmed his lips over your ring finger’s knuckle where a silver band with a 2 carat marquise-shaped diamond was nestled snugly upon your digit.

“Of course—you wouldn’t stop reminding me.”

“You love it when I remind you,” his quick reply made you want to blush; akin to admitting defeat when it comes to your bickering sessions with your now-fiancé.

“Yes,” you said softly, dropping your gaze to your lap and shyly squeezing his hand. “I love it, too.”

“Huh? I couldn't hear you—could you speak up?” This motherfucker… you could practically hear the grin in his tone and you hitched your shades up higher, smoothing down the front of your blazer dress to buy time to retort.

But, Ran was endlessly patient, especially when it came to your confession on your true emotions.

His grin was unbelievably—and unfairly—handsome. Purple locks fell softly in his face, his toned frame powerful under his neatly pressed three-piece suit, tie snugly fit in a pristine Windsor knot that he insisted you helped him do every single morning. Your fiancé was too alluring for his own good and as the both of you had walked the streets of Roppongi where you had both called home once, there was no denying the many eyes of the women (and some men) that lingered on him.

If you pointed it out to him, he preferred not to make a comment, merely smirking in that same smug manner. So, you decided to give in—just because you were in a good mood.

“I said I love you, you dork.”

“Oh—love you too, babe.”

Bonten HQ appeared, a covert building that housed Japan’s most notorious gang in the façade of a hotel that was under Mikey’s name. Scanning your name tags at the front desk, the both of you took the lift to the penthouse suite that was the main Bonten members’ offices.

The sprawling room was touched with a large window where Mikey’s desk stood on an elevated flooring, Sanzu on his right and Kaku on his left. In the front—Rindou and Ran’s desk, and beside Senju and Takeomi was your designated table. Your fiancé made small talk with Kokonoi who had his own private office to work over the numbers, while you noticed Senju’s absence and asked Sanzu about it.

“On a mission,” Bonten’s number two said, and raked his eyes up and down your figure. “You got the tat?”

“Oh yeah, I got it.”

“Can I see?”

“Gotta ask Ran first—hey babe, can Sanzu look at my tattoo?”

Without even sparing his superior a second look, Ran said, “Sure—if he wants his eyes gouged out.”

Haru raised his hands in mock surrender and fixed you with a smirk. “Sheesh, fine. I ain’t high enough to enjoy the pain anyway.”

You spared him a small smile as your phone vibrated, a quick reminder to where you were supposed to be in an hour’s time. Casting a quick glance at Mikey, you addressed him, keeping your voice soft and pliant to not arouse suspicion.

“Hey, boss? Is it alright if I take a quick hour to check on something?”

Mikey looked up from his computer screen and raised a brow. “Didn’t you and Ran just come back from lunch?”

“It’ll be quick,” you said and gestured towards the door. “I’ll be in and out in an hour.”

Your soft question caught the other’s attention and sensing the wandering gazes of his comrades, Mikey decided that an hour was not too long of a period to let you go and attend to whatever you needed to do.

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll be leaving now.”

Ran gripped your wrist when you passed his table, brows knitted. “Where are you going?”

“Just on… an appointment,” you took his hand with your free one and squeezed. “I’m heading into the city for a bit.”

Sensing that you wanted to be alone, he nodded, releasing his grip on you. “Okay.”

The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, Mikey quipped over the neutral silence in the wake of your departure. “Ran, I want you to follow her.”

He was in no position to deny his leader, and nodded, working out the logistics. He had brought a white shirt and a pair of jeans that he could change into, and since his car was as familiar to you as the white C8 Corvette he had gifted to you for your birthday, he went with another option.

“Sure thing, boss. Hey, Kaku—can I borrow your bike?”

The dark-haired man looked like he wanted to say no, but when Mikey’s gaze touched his, he sighed, fishing in his pants pocket for his keys.

“Here—catch.”

Ran caught the jangling bundle in his larger palm and grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t dent it,” was Kakucho’s low warning. Ran snorted.

“And hurt the love of your life? I won’t,” he snickered and knowing Bonten’s number 3 could not deny him, he picked up his comrade’s helmet as well, bracing it under his arm.

“I’m serious, Haitani,” Kakucho grumbled, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “If I see even one tiny scratch—”

“I’m dead, I know, I know,” Ran sing-songed as he made his way to the elevator. “I heard you loud and clear, Kaku.” The doors closed on Kakucho’s sour expression and Mikey’s impassive one. Alone, Ran let his cockiness drop and he wondered out loud what had gotten into you. “Where are you going, baby?”

Your Corvette was not in the private parking garage when he strode past your allocated spot, and he hurriedly dressed in the back of his McLaren before donning on the helmet and walking over to the majestic beauty that was Kaku’s Blackster 883 Harley. Checking his phone, he noted that you still had your location shared with him and followed that tiny blue dot downtown to the city where he caught sight of your car and trailed it all the way to… a jewelry store?

Parking Kaku’s bike between two alleyways that gave him a prime view of you, he let his eyes rake over your flushed cheeks, the slight panicked gleam in your eyes. He watched you until you disappeared into the shop, deciding it was a good time to lower the helmet’s visor and keep his languid gaze trailed on the front door to keep tabs on you.

As for you, there was not even an inkling of suspicion that you were being followed. The cool blast from the air conditioner blowing in your face made you shudder and your presence was announced by the soft clinging of a bell above the door.

“Mrs. Haitani—hello!” the young salesgirl with her whitened smile greeted you at the counter. “Are you here to refit your ring?”

“Oh, I’m not married yet,” you quipped, lifting your hands and waving them sheepishly, much to the other girl’s oh my gosh sorry, I forgot! It wasn’t that big of a slight and you leaned forward as if conspiring with her. “I’m actually here to get something custom-made.”

Her answering grin was as bright as the jewels on display. “Right this way.” Leading you towards a back room, you kept your guard up. Valhalla may be gone, but it’s minions could still be around at any time.

However, the coast remained clear and you were brought into another room where double doors were pulled back for you to enter. The head jeweler bowed his head low and offered you a wide smile. “Mrs. Haitani. How good it is to see you. I heard that you wanted something custom-made?”

Smiling thinly at your mistaken marital status, you pulled out some designs from your folder and placed the drawings on the table for him to peer down at it. “I would like to create a custom-made locket with tanzanite encrusting on one side.”

“May I ask why tanzanite, Mrs. Haitani? It is not as sturdy as diamonds”

Because it would’ve been my baby’s birthstone, you wanted to snap but reigned in your anger. This man was just trying to do his job. “Because I like tanzanite and I would pay a high price to have this done. Can you help me?”

At your insistence, he bowed his head once more and gingerly picked up your designs. “Give us half an hour.”

You smiled. There was a reason why you had chosen this place which was known for its speedy welding and precise craftsmanship. Of course, such swift care would come with a high price tag, but you paid it no mind. You would give the last penny in your bank account to commemorate the memory of your little one.

“This is the locket you requested for, Miss L/N,” the head jewelry appeared exactly thirty minutes after he had left you alone to peruse the displays. “What shall I engrave on it?”

The words that were traced on your heart but never had the chance to see the light of day spilled past your lips like healing water. “Could you engrave—’to the one I never got to hold’ on the back?”

A tremor of rawness passed between the both of you, and he seemed to understand what occurred for this to be your request. He nodded, expression turning rueful, and said, “Of course, Mrs. Haitani. We’ll be back with your necklace in no time.”

While you were waiting for the final touches to your necklace, Ran was growing impatient in the afternoon heat. He glanced at his Rolex and clicked his tongue, a surly mood that did not help with how the hot sun seemed to beat down on the back of his neck. Thank goodness he wasn't in his three-piece—he would be in an even shittier mood if he had to deal with the humidity in his custom-made suit.

A jewelry store. Mikey made him leave the cool shades of the office so that he could trail after his fiancée while she was in a jewelry store? Despite how much his boss’s paranoia was annoying him, Ran reasoned that Mikey must’ve wanted you to be watched in case you thought of threatening him again. Sano Manjiro did not trust easily and once that faith was broken, he would be a fool to keep his jugular exposed in any manner.

“Where are you going now, Y/N?” he murmured to himself, trailing after your reappearance outside the store, and absorbing every minuscule detail with his perceptive gaze; the sun glinting off your hair, the slight dip in the corners of your mouth, how you were resolutely keeping your eyes down to the ground before you closed the car door.

The route was unfamiliar to him and he made sure to keep a few meters away from you, the back of your white C8 Corvette still in his sights as he maneuvered Kaku’s Harley in between the streams of traffic. The gravel road became narrower until it tapered off to a lone building in the middle of a quiet field that was surrounded by dense trees.

He killed the engine, getting a vantage point upon a low hill where he had a clear view of you stopping the car in front of a lonesome little church. There you were—all sharpness and large shades, head bowed with a golden glint around your neck that he noticed you did not have before you left the jewelry store. What are you doing in a place like this, baby?

Ignorant to your clandestine audience, you disembarked from your car, the large shades you wore hiding a few tears you had shed while driving to this destination. The newly minted necklace felt like a hot brand against your clavicle, heavy to the touch; you steeled yourself with a deep breath and looked up at the blue sky for one brief moment before entering the sanctuary.

It had been years since you last entered a holy space.

Your father used to be a devout congregant, and church days were a staple in your little family until you turned 15 and didn’t feel like honoring this tradition, preferring to spend your weekends with your friends and Ran while your father did his duties as a good Christian man.

A part of you felt like you were coming home; the blow of nostalgia hitting you the hardest when you smelled the sweet incense, walking past the same pew your father preferred to sit on every Sunday. You could retrace every step like it was muscle memory—three pulpits down from the altar, always on the furthest side closest to the wall so he could let pregnant women and elderly couples slide out easily for Holy Communion.

Years later, his daughter would find herself sitting in his usual spot, staring up at the large crucifix of a tormented savior gazing down at her with doleful eyes. You had expected yourself to feel like an open wound—throbbing, and tender to the touch from all the sins you had committed; all the lives you had stolen.

Yet, all you felt in this instance was an unceasingly pervading sense of peace.

Completing the sign of the cross—you grasped the necklace in between your pressed palms and slid to your knees; praying for your father’s soul, hoping he was taking care of your unborn baby and giving them the love you never had a chance to give in this lifetime. You prayed for your safety and a better life with your fiancé—to be kept safely away from harm despite how dangerous both your occupations inherently were.

Through it all, the tears never ceased, your mind growing light-headed as you continued sobbing softly in this quiet sanctuary. It felt like you were sitting at the bottom of an ocean, peace saturating the air and fitting around the revered space like a jewel in a crown. Finishing your prayers, you did another quick cross and sat back on the hard wooden surface, staring up at the beige walls with your tear-clogged eyes and reddened nose.

“Peace be with you.”

That soft voice jolted you out of your miserable reverie, and you lifted your watery eyes to find a pair of kind ones staring down at you with a familiarity that reminded you of the past life you had tried so hard to bury.

Her lined face was sagely and a name tickled in the back of your mind. I’m helping Sister Teresa tomorrow with the catechism syllabus, the voice of your father echoed in your mind.

A face from your once the murkiest of your memories appeared like a shimmering holy light and you blinked back the tears, stuttering out, “And with you, sister.”

“May I?” She gestured to the empty space and you wished you could’ve scrambled to put on your shades so she could not see your tear-swollen features. Nodding, you discreetly swiped the remaining tears from your cheeks, forcing your features into one of contrition.

“I’m sorry—am I not allowed to enter during this time?”

“Everyone is always welcomed back to the House of God, my dear,” she said kindly and then, “I remember you—Mr. L/N’s daughter—my, my. It has been too long since we last saw you.”

Deciding that you could not deny her recognition, you faked a smile that most likely appeared grotesque through unmistakeable sorrow.

“I have been… busy with life, Sister Teresa.”

“So, I’ve heard,” the older woman hummed, sweeping her veil to the side and fixing you with those kind eyes that seemed to pry into your soul insistently to bring up your deepest hurt. Your desire to bolt from the scene and stammer out an apology was extinguished when she murmured, “I am sorry for the loss of your father. We all prayed for him, and for you, too.”

Stunned that she still remembered you despite your pervading absence all those years ago, you remained quiet, shifting your attention to the sanctuary so you could avoid her piercing gaze.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

You sensed that she wanted to reach out to you—to understand your disappearance from this church and subsequently, from this town; you had, after all, up and left from everything that once remotely held a shape of familiarity to you. Deciding that it was safe to speak to her, you recollected how open she was to you as a younger girl and your tongue loosened, eager to bridge the gap between your old self and this new Y/N; aching for a slice of your old life back even if it was just from this minute interaction.

“I… reconciled with my old ex-boyfriend,” you lifted your left hand up for the matronly woman to spot the engagement ring. “We’re getting married soon.” Her wide smile dampened your reluctance to speak and you divulged to her the real reason you had sought out sanctuary away from the world for a few moments. “I’m here not just to pray for my dad… I lost a baby.”

She did not judge you on your marital status or even pin the blame on your lascivious new lifestyle that landed you in this position. Rather, all she said was, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

It was funny how such a simple show of kindness had your walls fracturing and you fingered the locket around your neck. “I got this necklace made for my baby.”

Sister Teresa's dark eyes were warm when she regarded you. “They are with the Lord.”

“I just pray my dad is taking care of his grandchild.”

Her kind smile never wavered and she reached out to you. After years of sexual and even violent physical contact, you couldn’t stop the flinch. But, there was no ulterior motive to the warm press of her hand on yours beyond unadulterated sympathy and understanding “I’m sure he is. And I’m sure he’s proud of the woman you are today, Y/N.”

You had doubts if your father would be proud of how his sweet daughter became a prostitute-turned-gangster, but the holy woman before you did not need to know the truth. Deciding that you would break down and tell her everything that happened the longer you stayed here, you cleared your throat, tentatively squeezing her frail palm in yours.

“I have to go, but it was so nice to see you after so long, Sister Teresa.”

Your hesitance must’ve been scrawled on your face. She nodded and released her hold on your hand. “Of course, Y/N. God bless you.” Trailing after her when she left the pew, you bowed your head before this holy woman, thankful that you were given this piece of interaction to put your past behind you.

“God bless you, too.”

“Take care,” the older woman hesitated before adding, “we’ll always be waiting for you should you wish to return, Y/N.”

Somehow, that was enough reassurance that you were on the right path after years of running through an endless dark forest; you could see the light—you were allowed to see the light.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sister. Thank you.”

The figure of the woman he loved stepped out of the church and Ran straightened from his languid position on Kakucho’s bike, wondering what you had been doing inside.

But he didn’t have to ruminate for long; before approaching the Corvette, you dabbed at your eyes which he could see were red-rimmed even from this distance, lifting your shades to hide your sadness from the world once again. He sighed, already knowing what had transpired from his years of being intimately acquainted with you.

He brought his phone to his ear, carefully watching you close the car door and speed off towards the highway—back to Bonten HQ.

An answering click on the other end. “Everything alright, Ran?”

“Yeah, Mikey,” he sighed, “she made a trip to a jewelry store and went to a church. She was—is—still grieving.”

The head of Bonten did not need to ask him what you were mourning over. Everyone who was there on the day you pulled a gun on Mikey knew, despite how high you placed your walls in an effort to detract anyone from scaling it. The other man was quiet as he absorbed this fact.

“Take the day off—both of you,” was his curt response.

“Boss—“

“I don’t think I need to tell you twice, Haitani.”

There was no bite to Mikey’s bark; he sounded amused rather than threatening and Ran did not want to seem ungrateful for this show of kindness. Perhaps he could use this day to take you out shopping or try this one cafe you both had been meaning to visit for a while; anything to replace the red-eyed remorse with your usual sparkling smiles.

“Yes, sir.”

Dribbles of champagne dotted the counter when the men toasted, flutes clinking together, the sparkling flavor lost on your tongue as you chose to sip on a glass of water tonight.

Raucous laughter filled the space, hoots of this bar is so cool warming up the crevices of your soul at how bright everyone seemed tonight for the second Haitani bar opening in Roppongi. The writhing mass of bodies outside seemed to be muted when everyone was in this VIP room, the music vibrating through the walls almost drowning out Sanzu’s next words when he leaned in closer to you and said:

“So, I guess you’ll have your hands full with this new baby.”

“You can say that again,” you grinned up at your superior and nudged his shoulder. “But, don’t let Ran hear—he wouldn’t let me return to Bonten if you called our new bar that.”

Your fiancé was flitting around the room as befitting of the new co-owner of this establishment. Smartly dressed in a new three-piece Zegna that you had bought for him, the only thing more catching than Ran Haitani for tonight would be the tasteful decor and walls splashed with hues of dark purple that made you feel like you were nestled in the middle of a brimming, lively forest; the snatches of LED light almost akin to bright flashes of lightning—here for one split second and then gone.

“Pfft. I would drag you back myself. No one is as good with numbers as you are—well, besides Koko.”

“Glad to hear that my business acumen is helping us speed up our money laundering efforts,” you teased and Sanzu winked at you, cheekily retorting:

“We’d be lost without you, darling.”

A tap on your shoulder and you excused yourself from the pink-haired man’s side to address Mikey.

“I’ll be heading back soon,” he said and swept his dark gaze over the lively VIP room where only selected guests were allowed to mingle and enter. “Thanks for inviting me—it’s a good spot.”

“Of course,” you agreed with a fond smile. “Do you need me to call your driver, boss?”

“I have a ride,” he clarified and you didn’t pry; Mikey may have unfinished business and you sensed he didn't want to burden you with that knowledge.

“Just call us if anything comes up, okay?”

A fleeting smile lifted the corners of his lips and he bobbed his head once in acknowledgment. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“‘Night, Mikey.”

You watched him walk out of the room with his head bent and hands in his pockets, mentally wondering if you could perhaps lift some of the weight that hung on his shoulders by prepping him dinner tomorrow. A part of you wondered—did Mikey even eat? You’ve only ever seen him smoke and drink, but never consume a proper meal. That had to change soon; you couldn’t risk your boss withering away from the stress.

“Hey. Mikey left?” Ran’s voice jolted you out from your reverie and you made a sound of confirmation.

“Yeah—he said he had to go.”

Lilac eyes darted to his watch and he kissed his teeth. “It’s a little after four. I guess we should wrap this up.” You nodded and went to inform the bar to stop the flow of drinks. The dance floor outside was still in full swing, but slowly, lights were coming back to life, signaling to the inebriated crowd that the club was going to close soon.

At the VIP table, Kokonoi was counting a wad of cash despite how Ran told him to lay off his finances and Rindou was chatting to Takeomi who had a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. A few random prostitutes hung around, some of them you recognized from brief meetings when you were once in their shoes, and others brought in by your future brother-in-law to keep the atmosphere lively in the room.

One of them was cuddled up next to Kakucho, and you sensed that he would most likely take her back home before the sun rose. Mochi had gone back before Mikey, and Sanzu was on his best behavior—nose clean, literally and figuratively, as he was sprawled next to one of the whores, letting her admire his scars.

From the corner of your eye, you saw one of the girls who was emboldened enough to sway over to your fiancé, sitting on his lap as he was speaking to one of the investors. Lifting a brow, he regarded her coolly, and you took that as your cue to walk over to her, gripping her shoulder in one tight hand and glaring down at her.

“You’re in my spot,” you spat, and pushed the drunk woman off his lap, ignoring her squeak of indignation.

Locking eyes with her, you straddled your man’s lap and touched your gaze with his to find him staring down at you amusingly. The short satin dress you wore had hitched up to your thighs, exposing the globes of your ass and you didn’t care to make yourself decent despite your status as the co-owner of this bar.

What you did instead was run your lips down your fiancé’s throat, nipping on the slightly salty skin softly before standing up, cognizant of how the girl was staring at you in incredulity. “I forgot something,” you said in a sickly sweet voice and nodded towards the investor who was trying hard not to stare at the plush flesh of your thighs as you strode away, making sure to brush against the stunned girl when you passed her.

As you spoke to the bartenders and took into account the stock for tonight, you felt an arm slide around your waist and lips in the crook of your neck. “Y’know… you’re incredibly hot when you’re jealous.”

Feeling pouty because he didn’t immediately push the girl off him, you huffed and pried his hand off you. “I’m closing up, Ran.”

Proving that he was persistent, those same warm lips trailed towards your ear, nipping your lobe affectionately. “I really was going to tell her to fuck off, baby. You were just faster than I was.”

“Hmph,” was your retort and you felt the low vibration of his chuckle in the pit of his chest.

“You’re so cute.”

Cute? Oh, Ran Haitani was really asking for it tonight.

You turned around in his arms and lifted yourself onto the counter. Under the strobing lights, his handsome smirk was all you could giddily keep your eyes on, and you tugged him closer by his belt, letting him into the circle of your legs and trapping him there with your thighs around his waist.

“Damn, baby—right in front of my investors and colleagues?” he teased and traced his fingers down your bare thigh.

“You should’ve paid me more mind, then,” you pouted and he leaned forward, kissing you on the plump of your lower lip. Letting his hand drift to your waist, neither of you cared that eyes were on you; he let his lips meet yours and you sank your fingers into his purpled locks, gasping when he sharply bit on your lower lip which gave him easy access to slip his tongue into your mouth. Despite the atmosphere growing hot and heavy, you kept your head leveled and swallowed the urge to moan into his mouth when his larger palms skimmed down your back, making you shiver with anticipation.

Pulling your mouth away from his enticing one, you breathed in deeply, raising your gaze beyond his shoulder and catching your colleagues’ eyes. The men shamelessly drank in your shy smile and how you tossed your hair to the side so Ran could suck on the exposed skin of your neck, your fingers tangling in his locks possessively. This little club-warning session was officially over for you.

“Bar’s closed!”

Your voice rang with undeniable authority and the bouncers responded to your orders. In the distance, a low groan from Rindou who had enough of you and his brother sucking each other’s faces off in front of everyone, and a come on, man from Sanzu who was just about to bring that whore into his lap.

If your colleagues were pissed, they dared not show it, not in yours and Ran’s turf. They knew their place.

Once the VIP doors closed with the last employee who staggered out, you released a low, dulcet moan.

“Ran—baby,” you panted, weakly pushing his face off your neck, the numerous love bites he left in his lustful oblivion starting to throb slightly. “N-not fair. You let me chase them out while you were enjoying yourself.”

He hummed, dipping his head lower to your cleavage, his tongue leaving warm curls of saliva on your heaving chest. “I knew you had it under control, baby.”

Squirming in his hold, you gasped when he pushed one thin strap off your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck, drunk off your vanilla scent that made his cock all but jump at the thought of finally tasting you. “‘Sides, it was sexy watching you trying not to lose it.”

“Kaku shook his head at me,” you tried to keep the whine out of your tone, but failed. “The whole team probably thinks I’m a slut.”

“So, what?” he purred and looked down at you with those half-mast amethysts. “Even if you are, you’re my slut. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

The truth made your clit twitch and every fiber in your body was aching to have him.

His lips touched the clavicle of your throat where your necklace hung and he reached out to it. “This is pretty.”

“I had it made about two months ago,” you mumbled, thinking back to that darkest moment in your life when you were still grieving over your lost baby. Though the wounds were still there, it did not feel as tender as before; a scar replacing the throbbing, hot laceration with the veneer of time.

“It’s tanzanite.”

You affirmed his observation. “I got it done for… our baby.”

A rueful expression overcame him. You had expected him to be surprised or even point out why you would be doing this for a child you barely even knew—but all Ran did was trace his thumb over the engraved words. To the one I never got to hold. “I know. Mikey told me to trail after you that day at the jewelry store and the church.”

This did not surprise you. “Oh. I suppose he still doesn’t trust me.”

“He does,” Ran closed the distance and pressed his forehead to yours. “It was just that one time.”

You hummed and drifted your fingers to his tie, unlooping it, putting all thoughts of Mikey, your baby, and the mistakes you made out of your mind. Ran—he was the only thing you wanted to focus on tonight. You undressed him, starting with his loose tie, then his suit jacket and the creaseless vest to expose the white dress shirt underneath.

He got your message and pushed your other strap off, exposing your lace strapless bra from underneath the soft satin. There were no more words exchanged; warm puffs of his breath teasing your neck and leaving goosebumps down your arms when he pressed hot-open mouth kisses in between your breasts before gently drawing down the slinky cups; wrapping his lips around one turgid bud. You sighed, enjoying his attention when he shifted his mouth to the other nipple.

“Baby,” you whined when he slid one calloused palm down your thigh to touch the wet spot growing on your matching black panties. Pulling the scrap of lace down and tucking it into his pocket, he flashed you one cheeky grin before kneeling; tall enough that he easily came eye-to-eye with your pussy. Ran settled himself in between your thighs and you gasped when he used two large fingers to pry your soaking lips apart before his tongue slipped out to part through your folds.

Leaning back on one hand, you bit your lower lip, the music in the distance becoming mellower, the lights turning into one solid color of the softest shade of purple that matched the dilated lilac pupils that were cataloging your every reaction. There was a knock on the door and the both of you paused.

“Sir, ma’am? The club is officially closed,” the voice of your head bouncer drifted through the cracks.

Clearing your throat, you retorted, “Thank you. We’ll b-be out in a bit.” Your voice faltered when he started to suck on your clit, the sounds that came from the man in between your legs could rival the nastiest porn out there.

“Shall I leave the key with you, ma’am?”

Ran took the opportunity to slip one finger into your pulsing hole, enjoying your soft grunt of pleasure.

“U-um—just leave it on the table outside!” you chirped, flashing your infuriating fiancé one glare to tell him to cut it out. But, Ran was enjoying how quickly you were falling apart at the seams, your hips no longer under your control and grinding down on his tongue that was currently drawing maddening circles on your puffy clit.

“Alright. Goodnight Mr. Haitani, Mrs. Haitani.”

“G-goodnight,” you called and waited until the front door closed before releasing your restrained moan. The man below you only snickered, a devilish smirk on his angelic face.

“You’re s-such an asshole, Haitani.”

“Hmm? Hard to tell that you’re mad when you’re literally dripping over our counters, baby,” he mocked and straightened, chin shiny with your juices. You opened your mouth to retort, but the words were stolen from you when he brought you down from the high surface and pressed you to his chest. One hand slipped under your skirt, two fingers plunging deep into your depths.

“Ran!” your squeal bounced across the room; no sounds now beyond your heavy breathing. Using his free hand, he pushed your head forward, your cheek pressed into the glass counter.

“Look at the mess you made, you filthy girl,” he cooed and you were shocked to find a puddle where your pussy was just a few moments ago. “Lick it.”

“Ran—”

Those long fingers of his easily grazed your sweet spots, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. The hot bubble deep in your belly was threatening to burst, your orgasm promising to wash over you in an act of vengeance. If it wasn’t for his arm locked around your torso, you would’ve probably slid down to the floor into a puddle; similar to the pool of your juices on the once pristine surface.

“Lick it and I’ll make you cum.” His breathy yet gravelly tone left you conflicted; those slim and nimble fingers felt blisteringly good and you were close enough to start clenching down on him. But, Ran did not give in, did not press on your swollen spot and your clit in that way which would always make you seize around him.

“Baby—”

“Come on. You’ve eaten my cum before and you’re shy to taste yours? You’re the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had—shame that you don’t experience it. Do it, Y/N.”

Flickering your gaze up to him, the hand on your neck did not seem to yield and you shuddered at how intently he was looking at you. There was no room for you to beg and worm your way out of this. Slowly, your tongue slipped past your glossed lips and you lapped at the almost creamy liquid, the taste of musk heavy in the back of your throat and making you feel filthier than the mess you had left behind.

Literally slurping your own cum, your cheeks were burning, the cold glass barely extinguishing the flame of embarrassment at how this was turning you on beyond the point of return. Those lilac eyes never left yours, occasionally flitting to your progress, and once the counter was spotless did he grin and nod approvingly.

“Good girl.” Ran didn’t give you any breathing room; fucking you vigorously with his fingers, your slick sloshing around his digits, and with his other free hand, he teased and tweaked your nipples, breath hot in the shell of your ear.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, the fog of lust making you throw out all caution, your needy sounds bouncing all across the walls. “Daddy—please…”

“Cum for me,” he breathed, “Cum for me like the little slut you are, Y/N.”

Seizing around his fingers, you keened out your orgasm, all but humping on his fingers like a bitch in heat, panting and moaning out his name. A suspended moment in time where you were purely made of just sensation—white filling your vision and you opened your clumpy eyes, your mascara surely smudged by now.

Ran had that same shit-eating grin scrawled across his face. “Earth to Y/N?”

You couldn’t speak, the orgasm that still pulsed through you rendering you mute, only capable of breathing hard. Taking advantage of your blurry state, he pushed your tiny dress up; your body automatically folding forward, ass up, arms folded, and head resting on them—a mare waiting to be bred by her stallion.

The flash of pain when his palm collided on your ass felt like the wildfire spread of ant bites. “Ran!”

“Uh-uh. It’s Daddy, you little bitch,” he cooed. The clinking of his belt as it fell to the ground faintly registered in your hazy mind and you grunted when he pushed his cock through the tight ring of your pussy.

“Daddy—” you gasped, jolting forward from the force of his first thrust, standing on your tiptoes to curve your body into a back-breaking bow to take his cock.

“Fuck… your pussy was made for me, darling,” he grunted softly into your ear, the press of his larger body into yours would’ve suffocated you, but you were already at a point that you did not care.

“Daddy, Daddy,” you chanted over and over again, every drag of his heavy cock through your already rippling walls making your tits sway back and forth like a pendulum; your vocal cords only knowing how to rasp dulcet Daddy’s, the second wave cresting and rising—threatening to drag you down into the crushing depths of your second release.

“Can feel you squeezing me so well, baby,” he growled, and nipped your pulse point, one finger coming to rub sloppy circles onto your engorged clit. All you felt was him—the weighted slap of his balls on your skin, the drenched sounds of your pussy receiving his every thrust, the smell of sex curling in the air together with his cologne, the imprint of his lips on your neck, that same finger running clockwise, clockwise, clockwise—

“Daddy!” you shattered around his cock and he moaned, spitting out curses and your name. You didn’t have to wait long to receive his long-awaited gift; his hot seed filling you all the way to the brim, plugged by his large cock still pumping a huge load of cum into your quivering cunt.

One last spurt and he slumped onto you, droplets of sweat dripping onto your bare shoulder. Ran grunted and unglued himself from you, removing his softening cock from your creamy depths. Warm dribbles of cum trickled down your thighs and a laugh slipped past your intumescent lips.

Your fiancé turned softer, lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the nearest sofa, spreading you onto his lap and adjusting himself so you could drape your head over his chest.

Shaky fingers carded through your hair and he pressed a kiss onto your sweat-slicked temple. He straightened your bra and slipped your straps back in place, one last kiss placed onto your neck.

There was no doubt that there were stars in your eyes and he fought back a smirk at how softly you were smiling at him in this instance. Ran was no less affected—a tender smirk on his face as he drank in your features.

“I have something for you.”

“Hmm?”

Leaving the warm impression of his chest and lap, you walked over to your purse and removed a small box from it. “Close your eyes.”

Ran adjusted and made himself decent, following your request and sliding his eyes closed. You sauntered over to him and sat back on his lap. “Okay—now extend your palm.”

You could see the apprehension suffuse across his face, but he did as you said; one palm up.

“If you drop a lizard into my hand, I’ll end you, Y/N,” he threatened and you pressed your lips together to keep from bursting out into peals of giggles, remembering how much he abhorred those scaly critters. Setting the square in his outstretched hand, you marveled at how much smaller the box seemed in his larger palm.

Sensing the weight, his lips twisted in a question, but you spoke before he could. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sleepy lilacs widened at the sight of a pair of baby shoes in his hand; still wrapped neatly in the clear plastic box they came in.

“I’m pretty sure these would not fit,” he joked and twirled the square between his long fingers. “If you forgot my shoe size, it’s a size ten, babe.”

Refusing to be swayed by his antics, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly and poked his cheek. “Those aren’t for you.”

Whether through sheer divine intervention or his common sense returning after a mind-numbing orgasm, your fiancé stared at the shoes, dumfounded.

“Y/N… you’re…”

He dared not even say those words out loud and you nodded, lips still pressed together to keep a smile from spreading too wide. You cataloged the questions that flashed through his eyes; the ever quick-witted Ran Haitani was stunned by this one bit of information that he could not keep up with.

You put it into words for him.

“I’m pregnant, Ran.”

“Is that why you refused the champagne?” was the first question he asked and you couldn’t help it—you laughed, the sound pure and filled with happiness at this shared good news with him.

“Mhm hmm.”

“Fuck,” he swore and brought the shoes closer to his face; a pair of yellow sneakers. “How long have you known?”

“I took a test last week and today again just to make sure.” You fidgeted with the necklace around your neck, waiting for him to speak.

As if the sun had pierced through amethyst clouds, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas and he chuckled, burying his flushed cheeks into your neck and rubbing them back and forth—nuzzling you to his heart’s content.

“You really made me a daddy,” he choked out and you threaded your fingers through his hair, nodding emphatically.

“We’re gonna be parents—for real this time.”

Rather than launching into a ton of questions, he preferred to admire the yellow sneakers in his larger grasp.

“We gotta talk to Mikey to let you take your maternity leave earlier.”

“Huh? But I’m barely in my first few months,” you mused at how he was already jumping ahead.

Ran snorted and raised his brow. “There is no way I’m letting you onto the field when you’re carrying my baby. Don’t even fight me on this.”

You clamped your mouth shut on the protests that were fighting to leave your tongue. “So, what? I’m just going to be your pretty little housewife now?”

“We’ll get maids to help around the house and the cooking,” he said and mistook your pout for your resistance. “Why? Are you against that idea?”

“It’s just…” you trailed off, unsure how to tell your fiancé that you wanted your privacy now that you were both expecting a baby. How could you share with him that you wanted the absolute freedom to walk around naked in your own home? That you wanted him to be the sole person to dote on you, to be able to fuck you anywhere around the house—on the dining table, by the balcony, in the bathroom, even in the living room—an act that you both could not partake in if there was going to be eyes on you every day?

“I wanted to—y’know… keep this between us,” you trailed one finger down his angular jaw and hummed. “I want to… indulge… at this moment with you, baby.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gave him a shy smile. “Just with you.”

Seeming to catch your drift, your soon-to-be husband chuckled, looping his fingers with yours. “Ah, you just want me all to yourself, huh? Don’t be scared to tell me the truth, baby.”

“Yeah,” you admitted and his grin grew.

“Fine. It’s about time we moved to a bigger penthouse, anyway. Rin was thinking about shifting, too.”

“He’s not going to stay with us, right?” you couldn’t keep the apprehension out of your tone, already pitying the younger Haitani for having to put up with your exacerbated hormones and newly… carnal urges for his older brother.

Ran chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. It’ll be hell for him. ‘Sides—” there was an edge of wickedness in his smile now. “I can’t fuck you freely if my little brother is in the next room, right?” He hummed, heart growing lighter at your small giggle. “I’ll move us to a penthouse and Rin can take the other unit in another building. At least we’re still close-ish.”

You sighed, “Sounds like heaven.”

“You’re heaven, baby,” he said and you didn’t doubt the sincerity in his tone.

Never in your life would you expect a plot of revenge to bring you such a wave of felicity in your life; the ugliest parts of your history turning into a happiness you had not felt for such a long time in those hard five years you spent parted from your better half—the love of your life and now the father to your unborn child.

“What do you think about a wedding, baby?” Ran’s bright smile was contagious and you allowed yourself to be swept up by his impulses.

“Now?”

“Tomorrow,” he said and placed one palm on your belly. “Our little bean can’t be born out of wedlock, y’know. I wanna make his or her mommy an honest woman first.”

Throwing all caution and plans out, you pictured how pissed off your wedding organizers would be when you decided to take matters into your own hands; disregarding their careful preparation all for a shotgun wedding because of the little angel now growing in your womb.

The old you, the one who trod through life with a looking glass to catch the smallest detail in case you would miss it; the one who lived in fear of what the next day would bring, no longer held any sway to your decisions. You were a free woman—fuck the shackles of your past. You would not be weighed down by them anymore; you were free to love, to exist, to just be.

You were free to just live.

“Deal. Let’s do this, Haitani.”

THE END.

a/n. if you all had no idea, this story was actually (partly) inspired by the k drama 'my name' and was a different genre i dabbled in at all those years ago to try my hand at dark content and heavier topics teehee <3 even though its been a while since i reintroduced this series, but i wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking with ran and y/n's story since it's first conception in 2021 till the final reuploaded chapter today <3

if you're still hungering for more daddy ran, don't miss out on my other series 'blackmail kiss' which is currently ongoing !! luv u all and see u soon <3

#🦢 writes #ran haitani #ran haitani smut #ran haitani angst #ran smut #ran angst #ran x reader #ran x you #ran haitani x reader #ran x y/n #ran haitani x you #ran haitani x y/n #tokrev ran #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers angst #tokrev smut #tokrev angst #series: pretenses

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cityof2morrow · 2 months ago

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CDK: Company Lab

Published: 9-26-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Cubic Dynamics by John B. Cube and Marcel Dusims forged the future with furnishings that were minimalist in design and maximalist in erudite pretension. Generations later, the company continues to produce edge-of-cutting-edge designs. Use the Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (Simmons, 2023-2024) collection to set up corporate, exposition, and office environments. Envisioned as an add-on to the Cubic Dynamics set (EA/Maxis, archived at GOS), it features minimalist and retro-futuristic objects. Find more CC on this site under the #co2cdkseries tag. Read the Backstory and ‘Dev Notes’ HERE. Set up sleek lab spaces at your schools, businesses, and science institutions with the COMPANY LAB set. It comes with everything you need to set up lab stations, team work areas, presentation/meeting spaces, and lots of storage!

DETAILS All EPs/SPs. §See Catalog for Pricing | See Buy/Build Mode You need the Company Expo (Mesh Pack) set (Simmons, 2024) for TXTRs to show properly in game. ALL files with “MESH” in their name are REQUIRED. You may need “move objects” and “grid on/off” cheats to place some objects to your liking. When placing partitions/floating shelves and tables/desks/counters on the same tile, place the partition/shelves first. I recommend using this set with Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023), which includes Numenor’s fix for OFB shelves (2006), for easier use overall. ITEMS Cabinets (Tall, Upper, Lower) (476-514 poly) Desk (716 poly) Starmappers 001-004 (982-1028 poly) Mapper 001/002 recolorable on left/ride side, back is clear glass Mapper 003 front/back recolorable SEPARATELY Mapper 004 has recolorable base and recolorable glass (identical on both sides) Low Down Lab Table (118 poly) Shelf (62 poly) Table (1352 poly) Chair (1473 poly, HIGH) DOWNLOAD (choose one) MESHES from SFS | from MEGA LAB RECOLORS from SFS | from MEGA The STARMAPPERS are decorative and come with 30+ recolors. Use them to gussy up your research and lab rooms!

COMPATIBILITY AVOID DUPLICATES: The #co2cdkseries includes edited versions – replacements - for items in the following CC sets: 4ESF (office 3, other 1/artroom, other 2/build), All4Sims/MaleorderBride (miskatonic library, office, postmodern office), CycloneSue (never ending/privacy windows), derMarcel (inx office), Katy76/PC-Sims (bank/cash point, court/law school sets, sim cola machine), Marilu (immobilien office), Murano (ador office), Reflex Sims (giacondo office), Retail Sims/HChangeri (simEx, sps store), Simgedoehns/Tolli (focus kitchen, loft office, modus office), ShinySims (modern windows), Shoukeir via Sims2Play(reverie office, step boxes/shelving), Spaik (sintesi study), Stylist Sims (offices 1,2, & 3, Toronto set), Tiggy027 (wall window frames 1-10), Wall Sims (holly architecture, Ibiza). *The goal is link the objects to the recolors/new functions in the #co2cdkseries without re-inventing the wheel! Credit to the original creators. CREDITS Thanks: EarlyPleasantview/EPV, Panda, Soloriya, ChocolateCitySim, HugeLunatic, Klaartje, Ocelotekatl, Whoward69, LoganSimmingWolf, Gayars, Ch4rmsing, Ranabluu, Gummilutt, Crisps&Kerosene, LordCrumps, PineappleForest. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik). SEE CREDITS (ALT)

#ts2downloads #sims2cc #ts2cc #co2cdkseries #ofbprops

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glass-partitioning · 11 months ago

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Elevate Spaces with Cost-Effective High-Quality Glass Partitioning

Elevating spaces to new heights is now more achievable than ever with cost-effective, high-quality glass partitioning solutions, a testament to the expertise of qualified professionals in the field. These specialists leverage their skills to introduce a touch of modernity and practicality to diverse spaces, catering to a range of needs.

Framed glass partitioning, a cost-effective option, brings sophistication to spaces without compromising structural integrity. The collaboration between qualified professionals and this solution results in a seamless integration that enhances both aesthetics and functionality. Whether applied in open-plan offices or private workspaces, framed glass partitioning strikes the perfect balance, providing an open feel while maintaining a sense of privacy.

Wall glass partitioning, another cost-effective alternative, allows for the creation of defined work zones without the need for extensive structural modifications. Skilled professionals strategically implement these partitions, transforming spaces into flexible, adaptable environments that align with modern work dynamics.

For environments where acoustics are a priority, the integration of Acoustic Glass Partitioning offers an affordable solution. This specialized glass ensures sound control without compromising on cost-effectiveness, creating a tranquil and focused atmosphere.

In essence, the synergy between qualified professionals and cost-effective, high-quality glass partitioning is reshaping spaces, making modern design and functionality accessible to a broader spectrum of environments.

#wall glass partitioning #framed glass partitioning #office glass partitioning

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soft-girl-musings · 1 year ago

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An Unexpected Proposition (pt. 1)

based on this prompt from @imaginexhobbit, previously submitted under @jawn-i-made-coffee

cross-posted to ao3

part 2

Kíli x fem!Reader

tags: mentions of blood/injury, Reader is described as tall (by human standards), Y/N is used

wc: 1,615

fic summary: An injured dwarf appears on your doorstep. Do you grant him sanctuary on this stormy night?

A/N: posting this is totally self-indulgent and very out of left field for this blog but idc, we just reached 800 ao3 hits on this bad boy (some days we blog for the younger self anyway). I submitted this from my high school blog and revamped it in 2020, might flesh it out beyond pt 2 if the muse strikes.

Thunder and lightning seem to battle for superiority in the storm, chasing heavy torrents North. The evening is dark and damp, but you don’t mind. Your cottage is as safe a haven as any. You sit before your hearth, fire blazing as you bury yourself beneath several blankets, a mug of tea warming your lap. Nothing could ruin your cozy evening alone.

As if on cue, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminates the windows. A bloodied man’s face is pressed against the glass, his lips moving incoherently. You stifle a scream. In an instant you have your sword in hand and cloak about your shoulders, ready to face your intruder. Throwing the door open, you strike a defensive stance and scan the property. To your right, you see that it is no man at all, but a dwarf bleeding out in your garden. Dark hair clings to his face, bruised and battered. Blood marrs his complexion as rainwater drenches him. Before you can speak, the dwarf doubles over and begins to heave into your prized rose bush. You grimace.

"Please," he rasped, "please, I ask for sanctuary." His knees give way with the last syllable. You manage to catch him before he falls into the mud.

"I’ve got you, sir dwarf." Propping him up, you guide him inside. "Poor thing, you're soaked to the bone."

His small frame would not have been so heavy if not for his copious belongings. The dwarf seemed to have packed for a long journey, which had somehow led him to your door. You stumble over to the kitchen and deposit him in a chair, his head lolling to one side. You pour a cup of water and help him drink.

“Thank you,” he manages to rasp after downing a second glass. Life seemed to be returning to him already. “I do not mean to be a bother.”

You tilt your head quizzically. “If anyone’s bothered, sir dwarf, it’s you. Come, let me help you--” you assist him in his efforts to remove his belongings from his weary shoulders. He shivers fiercely, but does not refuse your help.

You notice how cold and pale he is. “Best not to strain yourself… let me start a bath for you. Your wounds need to be cleaned before they are dressed.”

You hand him a blanket and lead him to a partition in the next room. “Here, you can wrap yourself in this while I start the water.” The dwarf removes his outer layers and complies, his dark eyes never leaving you as you begin the tedious task of hauling numerous pots of hot water to the tub.

“Why are you helping me?” he finally asks, his face growing more puzzled with each trip you make.

You stop in your tracks, offering a shrug. “Because you asked.”

With that, you leave him to his bath.

You gather the dwarf’s wet clothing and lay each article in front of the still-warm stove. On the other side of the table lay his daypack and weapons. You hadn’t taken the time to inspect them before: the dwarf had been carrying archery equipment, numerous knives, and a shortsword. You examine each piece with reverence. The dwarves were renowned for their craftsmanship in the forges, but you had never seen proof of their handiwork until this moment. The blades were smaller than any you were used to, expertly fashioned with intricate detail.

"Like what you see, then?"

You jump at the sudden voice, dropping a knife. The dwarf had come out dressed in the shirt and trousers you had laid out for him. He stands by the fire, drying his hair.

"I was just admiring your weapons, sir-"

"Kíli."

You nod. "(Y/N)." You notice the color has already returned to his skin and his cuts were clean. He had looked much worse before; in the light of the fire, he was almost handsome. "Feeling any better?"

"Oh, loads. I cannot thank you enough for taking me in." He grins, and you can’t help but follow suit.

"What were you doing out there? Facing that storm as you were seemed like a deathwish."

"I had the misfortune of running into some bad company at your tavern." His body fell heavily into a chair by the fireplace.

"I'm afraid the locals do not take kindly to dwarves," you say with an apologetic smile, standing to join him in your earlier seat. "What are you doing so far West? Your people are native to the mountains, I was led to believe."

You realize how young the dwarf was when his face breaks out in another eager grin. "I'm on a quest. I was on my way to Hobbiton."

You lean forward, intrigued. "The Shire? What kind of quest concerns the halflings?"

Kíli tells you of his Uncle's plan to reclaim Erebor for the dwarves. He makes sure to highlight how dangerous the task may prove to be. You try to hide your amusement, but your shaking shoulders and involuntary simper do not escape your companion's eye.

Kíli crosses his arms. "Is something funny?"

You wipe a tear from your cheek. "I'm sorry, but you look like you've seen nary a battle in all your days."

"What, like you have, lass?" he scoffs, nodding toward your sword propped by the door. "I'll bet you've never laid a hand on that weapon of yours until tonight."

Your expression darkens. "Watch your words, sir dwarf. I have seen and spilt more blood than you would care to believe."

Kíli shrinks back in his chair. "Y-yeah? When?" Even under correction, his excitement could not be diminished.

You tell him of your past days as a soldier. Having always been tall for your age, you had cut your hair and enlisted in a male disguise when you were barely sixteen. You regale him with tales of the lands you had seen and battles you fought as a young woman among hardened men. The fading storm is the perfect backdrop for your stories; in truth, it had been a long time since you'd been able to talk about your fighting days, and you revel in the drama of the moment. Kíli clings to your every word, apparent awe and admiration dancing across his features. Many hours and cups of tea pass between you before you conclude your saga, the fire having long since died down.

You yawn. Dawn was but a few hours away. "It's late. You must leave in the morning, I assume?"

"Yes, I have to get back on the road."

You stand and stretch your aching muscles. "We should both get to bed, then. I have an extra room you're welcome to." You hold out your hand. "Goodnight, Kíli."

Kíli rises and takes your hand, but instead of shaking it as you intended, he leans forward and kisses the back of it. Your face grows warm at the surprising softness of his lips. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

He turns to leave, but stops and looks back at you.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you leave that kind of life? You spoke so fondly of your time in service."

You give a sad smile. "Let’s just say it wasn’t by choice." You begin to walk to your bedroom, but Kíli grabs your hand as you pass.

"If you had the chance, would you go back?"

You squeeze his hand and wink. "In a heartbeat."

__________

"What's all this, then?" You laugh. From the looks of it, Kíli had been cooking a small feast since before dawn.

"Good morning, my lady!" Kíli wipes his hands on a cloth and bows with great bravado. "I hope you don't mind me raiding your larder. I wanted to express my gratitude for your generosity." He takes your hand and leads you to the head of the table, fixing your plate once you sit down.

"You really didn't have to do this."

"Ah, 'course I did! I'd have drowned if it wasn't for you."

You spend the morning laughing and eating your way through the meal with Kíli, realizing how much you will miss his company in the days ahead. He’s been a refreshing change of pace for the simple monotony you’d build for yourself. As you wash the dishes after your meal, you notice he is dressed in his clothes from last night, weapons and bag secured to his back.

"All set, then?" You know your face betrays you, but you don’t care if he knows how sad you are. You had gained a friend last night.

"Not quite." He practically bounds up to your side, that familiar grin plastered onto his features. "I have something to ask of you."

You set down the plate you had been scrubbing. "And what's that?"

"Will you join me? On my quest, I mean?" His face is radiant with expectation and excitement.

You busy yourself with another dish, shaking your head. “Kíli, I’m not quite sure what to say-"

"Say yes! (Y/N), you told me yourself that you missed your old life. This would be the perfect chance for you to reclaim it!"

Despite all logic, you realize how right he is. Some small but powerful part of you had longed to be on the road with him when he spoke to you last night. You knew it was rash, but your heart was already pumping from the mere mention of excitement, aching to get out in the world once more. The quiet life you had been leading was nice, but it paled in comparison to the journey Kíli now offered. You craved adventure. When else would you have the opportunity to taste it?

"I'll have my things packed within the hour."

__________

A/N: you ever feel an old hyperfixation staring you down, threatening to return if you look at it too long? that might be happening again. only time will tell.

tysm for reading!

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #hobbit fic #an unexpected journey #kili #kíli #kili x you #kili x reader #kili/reader #kili x y/n #imaginexhobbit #rip my old blog she will be missed #my works

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 8 months ago

Text

LOKI's POV Part I

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings: Loki's side through the lens

Word Count: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tarithenurse.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The familiar wall of the 'BTS room' came up on the camera with the lone empty chair in the front. There was a slight movement behind the screen before the frame took in the face of Javier. His usually beautiful blue eyes seemed to lose some sleep while his olive skin looked flawless. Running his hand through the brown curls over his head, he sat down on the chair and took in a deep breath for the camera. "Hi there! I am Javier," he signed with a tired smile on his face. "As you may already know, I am one of the people behind the cameras here in the Avengers facility." He wanted to continue signing but a thought made him pause. His features were lost in some invisible maze for a moment before he came back. "A lot has changed here," he slowly began again, "and things are not how they usually were. So…" his long fingers hung in the air for two seconds before coming back. "I compiled some of the footage that I was strictly told not to let out. Well, more of a threat to not let these out. But I don't care anymore." Javier shrugs and gives a faint smile. "I'd rather have this come out than-" he paused, bringing his hands together to intertwine his fingers. He eventually sighed and rubbed his palms on his face before getting up and coming closer to the camera and clicking something to make everything go dark.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A footage comes up, of the very first day when everyone is busy chatting, properly introducing themselves despite having met on the battlefield before. You are there too, a little reserved but never without a smile for anyone who comes up to talk to you. But the camera is focused behind all this lively chaos at the lone figure by the fridge. Loki. A glass of wine in one hand, he is observing minutely every little thing happening across the room. More so, he is observing your interactions with everyone and how you come back to cuddle with the little stray pup every time you get some alone time. Loki is practically leaning on the countertop next to the fridge all the while slightly amused by how you always come back to drown your hands in the lush fur of the baby. .

It is the next day and the 'happy to help' coming out of you has shut some part of Loki down. The camera is still zooming into his face as he is suddenly lost in some calculations thrown by your sunshine of a smile- while the world is moving past him but he just standing there by the kitchen island with his arms across his chest and a big furrow of his brows. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

At Bruce's lab, the camera records his starry eyes as he explains to you how the universe works and you are hung up on every word of his. And once he leaves the lab, for a breather, the camera follows him."No one's looked at me like that," Loki is speaking more to himself than to the camera. Once he realises that, he looks at the camera with a straight back and a puff of air blowing out through his mocked laugh. "What is wrong with this human?" he casually points at the lab before getting his eyes stuck on you through the glass partition. Again. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

In the night, the camera seems to be out on the balcony, right outside Loki's room. Zooming in, you can be seen standing outside Loki's door with Thor before you walk away with a smile and Loki slams the door in his brother's face. Turning around, Loki walks towards his bed and the camera pans in to show him carrying a plate with a freshly baked lava cake. The God jumps onto his bed and lies on his stomach, keeping the plate in front of him as he digs into the lava and lets his mouth savour it with the biggest smile on his face. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The CCTV catches you falling asleep on Loki's shoulder as he reads you the lore in the library, making Loki pause and look into some invisible void in front of him. "As much as I don't want to-" he brings his hand to brush your stray strands away from your face and lock his fingers under your cheek resting on his shoulder- "but you might have to hear an earful from Barton if I do not move you away from me." He gently brings your face to rest on the sofa's headrest instead, and barely a second later, Clint barges in, waking you up and forcing Loki to lock eyes with the one camera that followed the hawkeye in. The God just gives it one tired look. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The camera is panned in onto the large glass of orange juice Loki is pouring for himself. "Why should I be bothered by how she feels? She would have eventually found out one day that she was adopted." He brings the glass to his lips to sip it like tea. .

The God is lifting weights in the training room without much difficulty. He is more focused on something else. "Do you think she got hurt because of me telling her she's adopted?" He squats and comes back up in the camera's frame. "Because it's not great news to be told, from personal experience." He squats again and the camera can see the door open and a figure entering the room. Loki comes back up. "But that should only be a sad thing if her adoptive parents are not good parents." He thinks out loud and squats again. The camera focuses on the figure still standing at the doorway. It is Sam standing there in mild shock. "Is this dude deadlifting Seventeen hundred pounds like it's nothing?" the man exclaims to the room. .

"So what if her parents are not good enough," Loki huffs to no one in particular. The camera pans out to show the rooftop garden having the most luscious-looking fake green grass but a one hundred per cent real vertical garden. Loki sits in the middle on a lounge chair as he sips a screwdriver and puts his sunglasses on while he basks in the bright sun. "Everyone has screwed up parents," he is finally talking to the camera, "the world is not always soft and warm. She should grow up. And we all know what does not kill you makes you stronger." He nods at himself in satisfaction and goes back to sipping his drink. .

"I did get stronger. But at what cost?" It is night-time and Loki lies on the rooftop, higher than that garden. The camera seems to be sitting next to his lost figure; the figure that is staring at the starry sky, swimming in them for some answers. "Not to mention I did almost die," he whispers. "And I cried every night when I survived that wormhole, wondering what I had done wrong to make my biological parents hate me and my adoptive parents loathe me." There is a moment of silence in which the camera zooms in to show the glistening eyes of the God as he does not take away his gaze from the view of the universe above him. "Do you think she feels that way too?" he whispers. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

At the Pepperoni wedding, Javi's camera is constantly pointed at Loki and you, and usually, you both are near each other. Often When Pepperoni finally kiss, the camera is fast to turn and find you in the hooting crowd, smiling with tears welling in your eyes and no one but the God looking at you with just a spec of longing in his eyes. And Peter and Scott look at Loki, hooting and clapping- sometimes smacking each other in the chest in excitement- with heart eyes. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The single cement block in front of the tavern holds Javi's camera when the frame records Venom devouring one of the perverts. "Javier!" a voice comes from behind the camera, making the device shake as if startled. Loki's face comes into view with quite the lines of worry running down his forehead. "I told you to call me as soon as you found Y/N! Where is-" He hasn't even finished the sentence when he hears your scream coming from the van in the parking lot. His head whips in that direction and his eyes turn dark. Within a snap, he is right next to the van, in between you and the lowlife thug. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The camera is recording a familiar figure sitting by the kitchenette counter looking down on the drawing of a chibi Loki on a napkin. With a sigh, the figure puts the napkin back on the counter and stands up. "All right, magic Mike, you can send me back on my honeymoon now," he announces before a sparkling circle opens to a beach and our man walks away. A few seconds later, the elevator dings open and the camera zooms in on the figure of Loki still in his formal attire- though a little crumpled- walking in. He is heading for the dorms when his eyes land on the counter. Taking a few careful steps, he tilts his head at the site of the drawing on the napkin. He stands there for two minutes, staring at the little version of himself, quietly breathing, never moving. Finally, he picks up the napkin and takes it to his room. .

The next morning, the camera is up early and recording outside Loki's room. One can hear the shower running when the frame quickly records a once-over of the beautiful room before finally landing on what it is looking for. Right next to the open window, on the study table, in between the fluttering pages of the justifiably bulky epic Mahabharata is a carefully laminated napkin of a chibi Loki being used as a bookmark. Javi records the bookmark in the frame at an aesthetically pleasing angle, taking him and a half minutes. Once satisfied, the camera is zoomed out to take in Loki's daunting figure standing next to the study table with eyes that spell murder. The camera nearly falls from the boy's hands but Loki does not flinch. He stands there, his arm resting on the French window while he looks down at the camera. "You tell anyone about this, your little cameras won't be the only ones I shut down permanently."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The camera records you walking across your college campus with an unusual- but convincingly threatening- gait. Once you turn the corner to the desolated parking lot in front of the swimming pool, a shimmering wave of golden light changes you into Loki. "Men are disgusting," the God announces with such force as if he had been holding it in for a long time. He turns to the camera. "Javier, you are assigned to follow Y/N around campus, right? You make sure that worm David stays away from her. He does not seem to have good intentions for her." The furrow in his brow is a serious one. "And if he does try to do something that, let's just say you would not do to Y/N, you contact me. Do you understand, Javier?" The camera keeps panning on Loki while the God is lost in a two-second thought before looking at the lens with judgement in his eyes. "Did you hear what I said? Then repeat it to me."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The camera sits right in front of the television screen in the lounge to capture you, Loki, Clint and Cassie in a serious game of Uno. "Uno," you declare, keeping down a Draw 4 card, "colour Blue." Loki gasps dramatically, bringing his hand to his chest. "How could you Y/N?!" Clint chuckles. "She got you good, Lolo." "How could you-" Loki draws a card from his pile and puts his Draw 4 on top of your card- "do this to Cassie?!!" You roar and Cassie groans, the little girl almost falling back on the floor. "Noooooo," she announces from behind her cards as she gently draws one from her pile and puts another Draw 4 in the arena, "how could she do this to Clint?!!!" Clint is simply blinking at the Draw 4s while the camera takes the liberty to pan in on the twelve cards he's already holding. "No, this can't be right. You cannot Draw 4 on another Draw 4!!!" Cassie giggles at the defeated expressions of Clint, Loki simply shrugs his shoulders for following the rules made by them girls and you guffaw in unadulterated elation, your happiness throwing you off balance into Loki's arm. There is a split second of eye contact, made by Loki with the camera before he regains his composure like a professional and sits there similar to a statue while your laughter has stopped making a continuous sound and is now just little breaks of a tiny engine of a toy train. Clint is throwing a fit. And your laughter is throwing you back till the arm you have fallen on grabs your back to support that unhinged cackle. No one notices the God's ears turn red when your hand smacks itself on his thigh for the overflowing hilarity. No one but the zoomed-in camera.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The lounge is empty thanks to everyone being out on a mission and with no one but Loki in the facility. Of course, the security team is doing their jobs in some security room but we do not care about that. Loki is sprawled on the sofa, his long stature barely fitting the already huge velvet seating setting. A camera is recording from behind the kitchenette island, panning in slowly to see what Loki is tapping on his phone’s screen. On zooming in further, the camera can finally read the name on top of the chat. V. Loki: How is Greece? V: It’s cool! Lots of white stones, lot of ocean, lots of beautiful babes… Loki: Sounds fun. V: But they don’t have jet sprays and their toilet pipes are too thin for toilet paper business. Major L Loki: …okay. Loki: I have a question for you… V: Shoot. Loki: Does your sister like precious stones? V: You can easily distract her with a colourful pebble bro Loki: …typing V: Or some food Loki: …stops typing V: I can list her favs if you want for $200. Loki: $50

V: Deal

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The holographic clock on the wall shows three past twelve on the lounge wall when the camera swerves to the figure of Loki carefully entering the space from the dorms. The camera then turns away and focuses on the light snores coming out of you as you lay haphazardly on the sofa with the TV still running. The God plants himself on the floor next to your face as he whispers a spell into his right palm before putting the hand over your head. The lens records specs of gold originating from his hand to glitter and land onto your hair before seemingly dissolving inside the parts of your head he touched. Loki knowingly smirks at the camera. "My work here is done," he says to the zoomed-in frame as he gets up. The camera catches the shift of your body. Your hand grabs his arm to let your cheek rest onto his palm as you let that side of your face turn towards the sofa. Fear. Loki's eyes show fear for the first time. "Ahh," you whisper, a smile growing on your lips covered in drool, "so cold." The camera shifts between your sleeping figure and Loki's distressed brows as he tries to get his hand out from under your face. “No, Chichi,” you moan in your sleep, making the God pause, “that’s my blanket. Don’t take it away from me.” A deep sigh leaves Loki's lungs as he crosses his legs and sits next to you. Apparently, so does the camera. No matter how often he tries, your grip on his arm strengthens. And so, two hours pass for the God sitting there, given up now as he plays with baby hair strands on your forehead- his sulky face concentrated on turning them into the tiniest pigtails. The camera is already panned in on his face, his smaragdine eyes having a dim glow in the night as he studies your face. Lazily, his eyes move from your brows to your nose, then to your lips. Loki does not realise he has tilted his head, resting it on the little space on the sofa, facing you. The fingers from his free hand are running over the fine lines, the pores, the natural moles over your face, either counting them or giving them a boop. His eyes are locked in on your lips when they part to breathe and his fingers in close proximity of them, having paused just before coming in contact with your lips. His pupils have gone wide, wider than they usually do. His visible ear is turning red. Maybe he realises it too. Because within the next ten seconds, he whips his hand out from under your face and crawls a step back on the floor. His bewildered eyes are looking at you while his mouth is agape with some newfound surprise. Gathering himself- barely- he gets up and furiously walks back into his room. The same camera runs out onto the balcony and past the other rooms to halt outside Loki's French windows. The God has closed the door to have his back stuck to it as he slowly falls down onto the ground with his hands on his mouth in some silent prayer. The camera is zoomed in- enough to have a close look at Loki's face again. "This cannot be happening." the mic on Loki is still on. "How can you even think of her that way, Loki." And apparently, he is speaking to himself. "How can you think of-" he stops mid-sentence as his gaze returns from the infinite void to something closer. The camera pans out of the beautiful face to look at the little familiar box kept on his bed. "Oh, Valhalla-" the camera looks back at Loki- who is still staring at the box as he whispers to the room- "what are these new emotions."

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fluff #loki smut #loki x female reader #marvel loki #marvel fluff #mcu loki x reader #mcu loki #It's The Avengers #Maladaptive Ninja Returns

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beemynumberone · 5 months ago

Text

All The Colours (7/7)

-> In which Idol!Minghao and Actress!OC convey their heartfelt messages through colours.

-> slowwwwburn romance. friends to lovers. no smut.

-> constructive feedback is always appreciated!

All pictures are from Pinterest, I do not own them.

Writer’s note: Hi! I am writing these scenarios to placate my active imagination and hopefully make someone’s day/night. I do not intend to hurt anyone/anything through this fic.

Thank you for picking up my story and happy reading!

Masterlist

*btw, Yile is pronounced as Yi Le (in Chinese pronunciation), it is not supposed to rhyme with Kyle

Part 7: Blue

You had me at um, hi

The morning chill blew through the air. Minghao wrapped his denim jacket around him tightly. Yile had told him to wear blue. After looking through his closet, he realised a denim jacket would be the least flashy blue garment he could find. It suited this “meet-up” after all. It blended in with the population and was casual, no sincere feelings on either end, amirite?

His bandmates were all telling him to “man up” and “confess already”. But Minghao wasn’t sure of Yile’s feelings and if there was a risk he didn’t want to take, it would be this. This meet was definitely a between-friends thing right? He didn’t want to get his hopes up too soon.

He stood in front of the address Yile had sent him. The café looked like it came out of a garden, with an assortment of flowers decorating its door frame. Warm lights from inside the shop lit the tranquil ambience indoors and Minghao eagerly stepped in.

He was instantly hit by a sweet and earthy aroma of tea leaves. Yile had chosen a place that she knew he would like. Minghao couldn’t be more grateful for her consideration. It was still early so the café was mostly empty, except for the familiar figure sat at the back of the shop. He walked over to her, opening his mouth to call her name out.

“Yi-” Wait. Should he call her name? Would the café staff start spreading news that he and Yile were on a date or whatever-they-wanted-to-call-it? Was this safe for her?

“Hey, Minghao.” Yile waved him over. Noticing his apprehension, Yile explained. “I’m close with the staff here. Nothing will be leaked, don’t worry.” Minghao slid into the plush deep blue sofa opposite Yile and took in their surroundings. They were seated at the last booth in the café, with partitions between each booth, providing privacy for each table.

“I heard from Junhui that you liked all things tea, so I decided to introduce you to this café. It was started by a good high school friend of mine, specialising in herbal tea and confectionery.” Yile picked up the menu. “I’ve taste tested everything here and I can assure you nothing tastes bad.” Minghao browsed through the selection. He had tasted most of the tea flavours, except for blue pea. He asked Yile on her opinion.

“I like roselle tea the best — it’s a deep magenta flower. But I prefer blue pea for the milder days. Y’know, the cold, lazy mornings. That’s what I’m getting, actually.”

In the end, they decided to share a pot of blue pea and some fruit tarts. A waiter took their orders and left them to converse with each other.

Soon, the waiter reappeared with a tray of their orders. A transparent glass pot filled with hot water and a small dish containing dried blue pea flowers.

Minghao reached out to start making the tea. Yile stopped him, insisting that she wanted to do the honours. Minghao complied, setting the fruit tarts in the middle of the table. Lemon slices, dried dark pink petals and another glass cup sat neatly on a dish. Minghao didn’t know why they were there. He distinctly remembered not ordering roselle tea.

Yile sensed Minghao’s curious gaze on the additional items. She steeled her nerves and efficiently stirred the blue pea flowers in the teapot. Minghao couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerised at the saturated colour of the water. Yile set two glass cups in front of her, pouring the blue liquid out. To Minghao’s surprise, the tea didn’t smell of much, just an earthy whiff.

Then, Yile spoke. “Did you know, blue pea tea changes colour based on pH level?”

Yile squeezed some lemon juice into one of the cups. The previously blue tea turned purple. Yile took a deep breath. Be direct and pointed, Xinhui had advised. “Minghao, I’ve overthinked and weighed the pros and cons and everything on this. I want to know if you would like to be friends or something more?”

Yile sprinkled some pink petals into the other cup of tea, stirring so the solution turned a fiery red. Red like the graphic liner on Yile’s face the first time they met, Minghao realised. Red for love, red for passion, red for fortune.

Then he looked at Yile’s earnest expression, purple tea on her left, red on her right. Purple meant a mix. A limbo, if you will. A delicate balance of red and blue, friendship and romance. Of a precarious area of no rest and constant struggle.

He took the red cup. “Fortune favours the brave.” He smirked and downed the cup.

Bad idea, Minghao scolded himself. His tongue stung from the scalding pain of hot tea. Even though his tongue was in pain, he felt happy. A weight had rolled off his shoulders and he could now laugh freely with his girlfriend about his dumb decision.

#minghao #the8 #seventeen the8 #seventeen minghao #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt minghao #svt the8 #xu minghao

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overandunderland · 1 month ago

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Mithridatism

Pre Seeker & The Warrior Drabble

Mareth cannot stand to see his protege in pain.

"How fair he?" Howard asked softly, his voice a rare thread of sound in the somber quiet of the room.

Mareth's jaw tightened. It was a difficult question, one he had been asking himself every day since the boy had been brought in. Aiden’s condition fluctuated wildly. Some days, Mareth found hope, a flicker of life fighting to survive within him. Other days, he despaired, watching as the poison ravaged the boy’s body, a relentless tormentor that would not let him rest.

The boy, stubborn as ever, hid his suffering as best he could, refusing to show weakness before anyone. He would wait, biding his time until he was sure he was alone, and only then would he allow himself the small mercy of tears. In those solitary moments, Mareth would watch from the shadows as Aiden gasped for breath, his body trembling with pain. His fingertips had been rubbed raw from gripping the edges of the basin as he heaved, the poison still eating away at him. Mareth had heard the soft, strangled sounds of his sobs, the whispered prayers that no one else was meant to hear. It tore at him.

"He's alive," Mareth finally managed, his voice tight, the weight of his own helplessness heavy on his shoulders. "Much to the council's chagrin."

He glanced over at the boy, lying motionless beneath a thin sheet that did little to mask the violent shudders wracking his frame. His breath came in quick, shallow bursts, labored and ragged as though each inhale were a battle hard fought. There wasn’t a Regalian alive that could convince Mareth this wasn’t punishment. Aiden, though still a boy in many ways, was made to bear the sins of his father, and it sickened Mareth to see it. No matter how strong, no child should suffer like this.

Yet Aiden had refused to give in, his iron will pushing him forward even as his body tried to betray him. Mareth knew the council saw it as a trial, a necessary hardship to harden him for the tasks ahead. Aiden was to be Luxa's shield, her weapon, her first and last line of defense. He would stand by her side, a symbol of her grace and humility—a living testament to her capacity for forgiveness. The idea both angered and saddened Mareth. This was not the way it should have been.

"It is to make him a resilient warrior, Mareth." Howard's voice was low but firm as he placed a reassuring hand on Mareth's shoulder, pulling his thoughts back to the present. They stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the fragile figure through the glass partition. Aiden’s chest rose and fell erratically, each breath a reminder of the battle waging inside him.

Mareth clenched his fists, his fingers digging into his palms. "He does not deserve this," he said bitterly.

"There is no one to speak for him, no one to fight for him. Do you not feel it, Howard? Do you not fall ill at the sight?"

Howard sighed, his face heavy with the weight of his own memories. "When Vikus placed Aiden in our care, he knew it would be difficult for you. But he also knew you would not abandon him. He knew you would be there when Aiden pulls through."

Mareth shook his head, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

"He begs for death, Howard. He thinks no one hears him, but I do. When he believes he's alone, he pleads for it. He begs for an end to the suffering."

Howard was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. He raised his hand to his opposite wrist, his fingers brushing over a small circular scar that marked his skin. It was one of many, remnants of his own brush with death during the plague. He knew too well the desperation that Aiden felt, the all-consuming agony that made death seem like the only mercy. But he also knew the strength it took to survive it.

"He will make it, Mareth," Howard finally said, his voice steady with quiet conviction. "He has to."

Mareth looked back at Aiden, at the boy who had been forced to carry more than his fair share of burdens. He saw the rawness in him, the suffering that was almost too much for anyone to bear. But beneath it, there was also a flicker of resilience, a stubborn refusal to let the poison claim him completely. Mareth wanted to believe Howard, wanted to believe that Aiden would make it through. But watching him now, so fragile, so close to breaking, he wasn’t sure how much more the boy could endure.

Mareth's jaw clenched as he stared through the glass, the sight of Aiden's body trembling and writhing beneath the thin sheet almost too much to bear. He could feel Howard’s eyes on him, a silent warning.

"You know we’re not allowed to—" Howard began, his voice firm but wary.

"I'm going in," Mareth interrupted, his voice like iron.

"Mareth, you can’t. It’s—"

But Mareth was already moving, his heavy boots hitting the stone floor with finality. Howard reached out as if to stop him but hesitated, knowing well enough there was no point. Mareth's mind was made up.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the two of them inside the dimly lit room. The air was thick with the smell of herbs and sweat, of the acrid remnants of poison. Aiden lay in the center, his small form dwarfed by the bed, his body a trembling mess. His breath came in uneven gasps, punctuated by pitiful groans as the poison continued to tear through his veins. Every inhale seemed to catch in his throat, rasping like sandpaper. His fingers twitched and curled, clenching the sheets as though trying to hold onto something solid, something to ground him.

"Nnngh—" Aiden moaned, his voice strained and broken, the sound of a boy fighting an invisible enemy. His legs jerked under the sheets, the muscles spasming uncontrollably as a wave of pain surged through him. His skin was pale, almost gray, and covered in a sheen of sweat that clung to him like a second skin. His hair, usually wild and untamable, was plastered to his forehead, soaked through. A thin trail of saliva trickled from the corner of his mouth as his head lolled to the side, his eyes fluttering shut as another pained groan escaped him.

"Nnhh...please..." Aiden whimpered, his fingers now gripping the bedframe so tightly his knuckles were white. He gasped sharply, his body convulsing as he twisted onto his side, knees drawing up to his chest in a desperate attempt to shield himself from the agony. The tremors in his limbs didn’t stop, his entire frame wracked with shivers despite the heat radiating from his fevered skin.

Mareth stood at the foot of the bed, watching in silence as the boy fought a battle he couldn't win alone. He had seen many soldiers suffer, many warriors pushed to their breaking point, but this... this was something different. Something crueler. This was a child, and it was killing him slowly.

Without a word, Mareth moved closer. His hands were steady, his face set with quiet determination. He grabbed the cloth that lay on the stand next to Aiden’s bed, the fabric already damp with half-forgotten care. The bowl of water next to it was cool to the touch, a small mercy in a room full of suffering. Mareth soaked the cloth, watching the water drip back into the bowl as he wrung it out, before returning to the boy's side.

Aiden let out a low groan, his body seizing momentarily as another ripple of pain passed through him. His eyelids fluttered, half-conscious, his breath ragged and thin.

Mareth placed the cool cloth gently on the boy’s burning forehead.

At the touch, Aiden’s body stilled for a brief moment. His lips parted as he released a soft, relieving sigh. The tension in his frame eased, if only slightly, the worst of the shivering subsiding. His eyelashes fluttered, struggling to lift, and after a long moment, his eyes barely cracked open, glassy and unfocused. The faintest glimmer of recognition passed over him, his breaths still uneven but less frantic.

"Rest, boy," Mareth cooed, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, almost a whisper. His hand remained on Aiden’s forehead, keeping the cool cloth in place, offering the only comfort he could give in that moment.

Aiden's eyes drifted shut again, a small flicker of relief passing over his face. His breaths came slower now, though still labored, his body no longer thrashing in agony but sinking into an uneasy, fragile calm. For the first time in hours, perhaps even days, the boy found a sliver of peace, however fleeting it might be.

#the underland chronicles #gregor the overlander #tuc #fanfic #seeker of the warrior #gregor and the seeker of the warrior #Pre Fall

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rainbow-rebellion · 1 year ago

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Supercorptober Day 21: "Lavender"

Read on A03 instead

Lena stands in the hallway playing nervously with the key in her hands. A key she’s surprised she still has. She's stood in front of this exact door a hundred (a thousand?) times, used the key to let herself in at least a few dozen times, probably more - yet here she was, unable to force herself to turn the knob. She’s not really sure how long she stands there, but at some point, she finally takes a deep breath to steady herself, squares her shoulders, and lets herself into Kara’s apartment.

It hurts more than she expected it to, being back here. The last time she was in this apartment Lena had come to tell Kara she was wrong about Non Nocere, to ask for forgiveness - and then ended up with Alex’s gun pointed at her head. It’s not exactly a fond memory. Before that, it had been nearly half a year, back when Lena still came over for movie nights and cuddles on the couch. Before Lena found out about Kara’s secret identity in the worst possible way and everything went to shit.

And now Kara is gone. The apartment is quiet and achingly empty without the joyful sound of her laughter to fill it up. It’s been three days since Lena’s deranged half-brother sent Kara to the phantom zone - fucking Lex - and the super friends still have no idea how to rescue her. Lena’s not sure Kara would even want her here, with their friendship still on rocky terms, but she just needed something , some kind of connection, some reminder to keep her from giving up hope.

The apartment hasn’t changed all that much from what Lena remembers, at least as far as she can tell. She walks slowly around the space, taking in all the details she’s seen so many times before, but that suddenly carry so much more weight now because the details are so uniquely Kara. The fluffy blankets on the couch. A blue coffee mug on the kitchen counter with a red supergirl logo and yellow writing that says “Have a SUPER day!” (a gift from Nia), and another mug next to it covered in a pattern of brightly colored donuts. The easel in the corner with some of Kara’s paintings propped against the legs and her box of painting supplies next to it. The assortment of different sized picture frames scattered throughout the spacious loft on various tables and shelves, filled with smiling photos of Kara’s family and friends. Lena stops short when she realizes the picture of her and Kara together is gone from the shelf where it used to sit. It shouldn’t surprise her, after all the hurt she caused, but it still stings - more than it should, considering Lena smashed her own framed picture of them with a whiskey glass. She squeezes her eyes shut and forces herself to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

For whatever reason, Lena decides to wander past the partition into the space Kara uses as her bedroom, running her hand over the familiar blue and green patterned comforter on Kara’s bed. When she glances at the bedside table, she feels her heart stop. Kara didn’t get rid of the picture of her and Lena - it’s right there, on the table next to her bed. Right where she would see it every morning and every night. But why? Why would she want to look at that after everything?

It’s all of a sudden too much for Lena, and she sinks down heavily on the edge of the bed. She can’t stop the hiccuping sob that claws its way out of her chest or the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, so she grabs one of Kara’s pillows and squeezes it to her body as tight as she can. As she does, her nose tingles with the lingering scent of lavender and vanilla. Kara. Years of being best friends (years of being in love with her best friend), Lena knows that scent, one she used to breathe in and try to memorize every time she and Kara shared a hug or snuggled up on the couch together.

She’d give anything to hug Kara again.

The sharp pang of her anguish cuts into her like a knife twisting in her stomach, and suddenly she feels like she is drowning under a tidal wave of emotions. She clutches desperately at Kara’s pillow and rocks herself back and forth, while she cries deep gasping sobs that feel like they are being ripped from her lungs. Her eyes burn from the hot tears that are now streaming relentlessly down her face, dripping onto the pillow and sliding down her neck to soak the collar of her shirt. Once again, she feels like her heart is being cracked open, but this, this is infinitely more painful. This isn’t just some fight between friends, this is her possibly losing Kara forever. She doesn’t think she can live with that possibility.

“I’m so sorry Kara.” Lena chokes out between labored breaths. “I’m so so sorry. This is all my fault. I promise I’ll find a way to bring you home. I promise.” Her voice cracks on the last words, her throat so raw she can barely speak above a whisper.

Lena cries until exhaustion wins out, until her body hurts as much as her heart, and she has no more tears left to cry. When her breathing finally returns to normal, she decides it’s time to pull herself together and go back to her own apartment. She can’t stay here any longer, it’s just too painful of a reminder of Kara’s absence, and Lena needs to be focused if she’s going to help the team find their missing friend. She breathes in one more deep breath of the lavender and vanilla scented pillow, trying to commit the smell to memory before she leaves.

She’s about to walk out the door when she stops herself. She turns around and walks back to the couch, where she picks up one of the fluffy blankets Kara always keeps there. One they used to share, with popcorn, and chinese takeout, and hot chocolate, and stories about their respective days. One that still smells like Kara. She takes it with her so she can have just one little piece of Kara to hold onto, a reminder of what she used to have, of who she is still fighting for.

———

When Lena gets back to her penthouse, she carefully removes the picture of her and Kara from the broken frame and puts it in a new one. She falls asleep with Kara’s blanket wrapped around her and the picture clutched to her chest.

———

Lena returns to Kara’s loft a week later when the blanket finally loses its scent. Kara is still gone, and the apartment is still too quiet and lifeless. Lena’s heart still feels like it’s been hacked open by a dull axe.

She lets herself curl up on the couch for a moment, finding the other blanket she had left here last time and pulling it tightly around her, breathing in the familiar smell. She imagines Kara cozying up on the couch next to her, socked feet tucked under her legs, her head resting on Lena’s shoulder, blonde hair tickling her neck. She thinks about all the times she wished their cuddling would turn into something more, how she wished she could have had the courage to tell Kara how she felt.

“Kara…” she pleads to the void. “Please come back Kara. I’m so sorry. For everything. I miss you so much.”

“Please… I love you.”

The blanket is wet with tears when the whispered confession floats away into the silence of the empty apartment.

———

Lena ends up staying at Kara’s apartment. She told herself it would be too painful, but it turns out her crippling misery was determined to follow her no matter where she went. So she surrenders, and just lets herself be surrounded by everything Kara. It hurts, but there are also happy memories here, ones Lena wants to hold close to her heart for as long as possible.

———

Another week and a half drags by, and then by some miracle, the super friends are finally able to rescue Kara from the phantom zone (with help from Lena’s yellow sun grenades, which she is very proud of, as she should be). When Kara stumbles onto the ship and collapses into her sister’s arms, everyone can tell that she is physically and emotionally drained. There’s no time for pleasantries or conversation - Kara needs to be taken as quickly as possible to the med bay for a full exam and to get her onto a yellow sun bed so her body can begin to heal.

It’s two full days later when Kara is finally recovered enough for the super friends to throw her a welcome back party at the Tower. Meanwhile, Lena’s anxiety is at an all-time high. Her and Kara’s friendship was in a shaky place when everything went down with Lex, and Lena doesn’t know if Kara blames her for what happened. She doesn’t know what Kara may have experienced in the phantom zone and how that might affect her. Trauma does strange things to people, Lena knows that from firsthand experience. Is Kara even the same person anymore? Will Kara still want Lena in her life?

The first positive sign is that when Kara enters the common room to the sight of donuts, flowers, balloons, and her friends and family gathered around, her face immediately breaks out into a genuine Kara Danvers smile, all full of white teeth, dimples on display and eyes crinkling at the corners. She still seems a bit tired and perhaps a little more reserved than usual, but otherwise very much still herself, and everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief.

Kara works her way around the room exchanging hugs, each team member expressing their joy at having her back, and Kara expressing her own joy and gratitude in return. Lena is the last one left, and she feels her heart flutter and her throat go dry when Kara’s eyes meet hers. The superhero nods her head towards Lena with a fond smile and her arms open wide, and it takes all of Lena’s willpower to force herself to walk when all she wants to do is run at full speed into Kara’s warm embrace. When their bodies finally meet and they melt into each other, everything feels right again. Like all the empty spaces in Lena’s heart are being filled back up and every ache and pain in her soul is being soothed by Kara’s presence. She’s home. She’s home. She’s finally home.

“It’s only because you’re on the team that I’m here,” Kara murmurs in Lena’s ear. She squeezes her so tightly it almost hurts, but Lena just squeezes back as tightly as her own strength will allow her. She feels the tears sliding down her cheeks and takes a deep breath through her sniffles, trying her best to hold herself together. When Kara finally pulls back, she pauses for a moment, her hands drifting to Lena’s shoulders. She cocks her head to the side and looks at Lena with a soft smile on her face and a gentle question in her eyes. “Your scent… vanilla and lavender…?”

Lena knows exactly what she is asking, because Lena usually smells like her expensive perfume, or her coconut and hibiscus scented shampoo. And there are a thousand ways Lena wants to answer that question, a thousand things she wants to tell Kara that she can’t put into words just yet. So she tries to pour all her emotions into a single sentence, and hopes Kara understands. She bites her lip to stop it from quivering and gives a tiny shrug, before she answers in a small shaky voice. “I really missed you.” She ducks her head down and tries to swallow, her throat constricted with emotion. She gathers what courage she can to open herself up, to lift her head and make another confession, whispered so softly only Kara can hear her. “The only thing that kept me going was the hope that I would get to see you again.”

Kara is silent for a minute as she stares into Lena’s glassy green eyes, her own tear-brimmed blue eyes searching Lena’s face for some hidden truth. Lena wills her to find it, to see all the love Lena holds in her heart for her. She wills Kara to hear the way that same heart is currently hammering against her ribs, even while it feels like it's stuck in her throat.

When it seems like Kara has found what she is looking for, she whispers back, her own voice cracking just a little. “I really missed you too.”

There’s a weight to the way Kara says it, the words feeling charged with hidden significance. Lena's thoughts go to the picture of them she found on Kara’s nightstand, and wonders - could she…? Now it’s her turn to search Kara’s face for answers, and as she does, she finds herself looking into a longing gaze, blue eyes filled with overwhelming affection, and sparking with a sudden fire she’s never seen before. Kara moves her right hand from Lena’s shoulder to softly cup the side of her face, her thumb gently wiping away a tear from her cheek. Lena lets her eyes flutter closed for a second as she leans into the warm touch. There’s a moment between them, a low buzzing electric current connecting their bodies, air thick with anticipation, a silent conversation with their eyes. Kara's eyes flit to Lena's lips, nodding her head almost imperceptibly, and then she leans her body closer to Lena’s, drawing them both towards the inevitable.

The collision course they are on is abruptly derailed by Alex, completely oblivious to the moment of intimacy she just interrupted. “Apologies from Kelly, she really wishes she could be here, but she had a full day of orientation at Social Services.”

Lena reluctantly steps back to allow the sisters to talk, but she can’t help noticing the way Kara's shoulders droop ever so slightly, and the look of disappointment on her face. A sentiment Lena definitely shares.

(What she doesn’t see is the way Alex glances between her and Kara, and the fleeting moment of realization in the older Danvers’ eyes, followed immediately by a quick flash of guilt, as she puts two and two together).

The moment is over though. Conversation moves on, and everyone goes about their business as if nothing happened. And as far as everyone is concerned, nothing did happen - only Lena and Kara are privy to the wordless declarations that passed between them.

But it did happen, and it gives Lena hope. More hope than she’s had in a long time. And she knows there are conversations to be had. Her and Kara need to talk about their fight, and how to trust each other again. Lena should probably explain why she was sleeping in Kara’s apartment. Clearly they need to discuss the feelings it seems they both have for each other, with actual words this time. (though perhaps some of those feelings could be expressed in other ways…)

She knows Kara will need to heal from the emotional and physical trauma of being in the phantom zone, and that alone could prove to be a difficult obstacle to overcome. There’s still a long road ahead of them, and most likely not an easy one.

But for now, Kara is home, and that’s enough.

#supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #phantom zone #lots of feelings #kinda angsty #hopeful ending #lena luthor needs a hug #lonely lena luthor #oblivious alex danvers

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