#i really appreciate the vulnerability it took to send this. this can be such a personal wound that (understandably) people hesitate to show

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) MDNI - flashbacks of their past rivalry, Satoru being silly but sweet, reader getting insecure, both are emotional, mentions of pregnancy/body changes, explicit sex, oral (f recieiving) cervix kisses, squirting, mirror sex, talking you through it, LOTS of humor- WC- this chap- 8.4k - art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3 (extras here and here)

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Four>>>

Chapter Three

A month later- four months along

You really hope Satoru makes it in time, he’s texted you plenty and sent you many silly selfies - fuck the two of you had phone sex - you blush as you remember just what kind of picture was sent after that. He’s called every single night to speak to you, to the point the two of you are learning more and more about each other, yes he’s kind of an idiot, but he’s also kind of brilliant.

Conceited and cocky, yet slightly insecure about things and vulnerable, terrified of having a baby but excited, the duality of Satoru Gojo was never anything like what you knew him as for the past five years. You remember hating his attitude, his advances, remembering how ‘easy’ things were for him, but the more you all talk, the more that changes.

You’re not mad he went on his trip, everything would change for him, why not let him have fun, but you find yourself… lonely. You don’t know what that sex meant to him, but it was almost as if… maybe you could see that future? Maybe you could see something coming of it.

Are you way off?

You’ve seen the numerous pictures of Satoru and his friends all over every bit of instagram, girls in their bikinis surrounding the group, you never see Satoru not around someone, though he keeps the distance, his arm is usually around Suguru’s shoulders. He looks so happy, so carefree you muse, feeling the complete opposite of just how you feel - exhausted.

You’re already more than ‘poochy’ though many people still haven’t assumed you’re pregnant, flowy empire waisted dresses have curbed anyone assuming so, which is ideal considering you just started getting on camera. Last week was the start of your new segment, where you go over the current news, it’s for celebrities for now, but you hope one day to get to the heavy hitting things.

“And with that, I send it back to you.” You finish your segment with a smile at the camera, the director shouts - cut! - and everyone starts clearing up, getting ready for the next person on the floor.

You blink a bit, bright lights shooting in your face are still overwhelming, when the director comes up to you, smiling, his eyes roving just a little too much on your body. “You did great.”

“Oh thank you!”

“You look great, too.” The female director steps up, snidely scowling down at your body now, making you tense.

“But remember the camera adds ten pounds, maybe a salad for lunch instead of those hot cheetos?” You feel your cheeks heat up furiously, as the crew watches curiously at you.

You’ve gained five pounds this month and it’s all in your tummy and tits. “No, I think you look great, don’t worry.” He says again, but the snobby woman rolls her eyes at him.

“Just looking out for you. Maybe we could be… friends?” She suggests, making you blink in shock and embarrassment.

You want to tell them you’re pregnant but you’re too terrified- it’s too new, so not just yet, you’re so worried they’ll take this away after working so hard… you’d eventually have to tell them, when you can’t hide it anymore, but for now, you’ll pretend you’ve just eaten a lot of hot cheetos.

“No, that’s true I will remember the camera adding ten pounds. Thanks for looking out.” You manage, this was Hollywood and this was the norm, you expected just about this much anyway, ten extra pounds is a lot for the position.

God how big would you get!?

You’re frowning then, when you recall the conversation, and see it.

A stretch mark.

“Fuck… shit. Already!?” You’re panicking, how do you get one four months in!? You look like you have a food baby, surely, it’s not even that big yet and there it is, clear as fucking day.

You hear the doorbell ring then, sliding your shirt down to hide the evidence of it, how much cocoa butter did you need!? You basically bathe in the shit every fucking day- and now this already. You expected some later on perhaps, when you were bigger. Frustrated and upset, you open the door to see Satoru’s face, just a little sunburnt, and his eyes are bloodshot red even as he grins.

“Hey sweets. Miss me?”

Yes.

“Maybe.” You murmur, glaring just a bit while Satoru struggles to focus, head hammering then.

“Can I get some water, ibuprofen, some eggs-” He blinks you into focus now, seeing tears in your eyes, hitting him over the head like a freezing cold bucket of water suddenly. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… just…” You can’t take it then, you’re sobbing, as he fumbles, trying to pat your back, pulling you against him just a bit.

“Missed me that badly?” You take a shaky breath, swiping at your tears now.

“I’m getting…” You pull back, and in one month your tummy has rounded some, a gentle curve, your tits are swollen already, begging for his mouth. Satoru can’t take just how gorgeous you are then, exhaling, hands on your hips.

“Getting sexy?” He asks softly, and you shake your head.

“You’re fucked up, that’s why you think it.”

“What now?” He glares, sobering up with every moment you’re acting like such a brat. “What funhouse mirror are you checking? Are they being mean at work or some shit!?”

“They mentioned I should stop eating hot cheetos. But… they don’t know I’m pregnant so.” Satoru frowns then, brushing his hand across your hip now, thumb pressing little circles, making your breath catch with the intimacy.

“You didn’t tell them?”

“I’m too scared to lose the job…”

“But you can’t hide it forever.”

“I know.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” His surprisingly sharp gaze flickers when you shake your head. “Why are you?”

“I have a stretch mark already.” He frowns when you lift up your shirt, showing him it, a mark that glints under the lights. “I’m eating too many fucking hot cheetos, they’re right, ugh!”

He laughs then, thumb brushing the mark, seeing goosebumps raise as he does so, before getting on his knees, making you gasp. “This right here?” He asks softly, eyeing you under his snowy lashes, your hands come to rest on his shoulders, nodding a bit.

“Y-yes, already Satoru. And I’m meticulous about this stupid cocoa butter.” You’re exhaling as he kisses the mark, lips against your skin, your tummy flutters with desire, fuck you had missed him.

“It’s sexy.” His whisper sends shivers across your body, you almost whine out how good it feels.

“It’s so not.”

“I like it. Stop being mean to yourself, what will the baby think if they hear this all the time, hmm?” He presses another kiss on your tummy, touching your heart then, right above your belly button, as his hands warmly palm your hips. “If you’re mean to yourself the baby will get upset.”

“How does it know?” You’re sniffling now.

“Babies know their surroundings, you don’t want to stress them, hmm?”

“You… read up on it?” He smiles a bit, nodding, your earlier response of being so irritated at him is fading, you find yourself stroking his hair, as he rests his forehead on your tummy. “You’re right. You’re right.”

“I love to hear that, where was this all of college, hmm?”

“I bet you do.” You pull him up now, seeing him sway just a bit, sighing. You want to tell him he shouldn’t show up fucked up, but the sweetness of the moment speaks louder than his immaturity. “Let’s get you some food before we go.”

“I think I love you.”

After you’ve made Satoru an enormous omelette, which he devours with fervor in your little kitchen as you sip on a decaf- that’s depressing isn’t it? - something almost feels… natural about it. About the sunlight filtering through those blinds, lighting the two of you up, little dustmotes floating through the beams of light, flashing just so on his pretty face.

Satoru leans back, grinning and rubbing his tummy. “I’ll have a food baby, we could match you know.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and sipping the hot liquid. “I can’t see you matching this, I feel like a whale.”

“You’re not at all.” He frowns now, eyeing you slowly. “You look so good I’d like to put you on this table and eat you.”

You blink at his bold words, igniting something insane inside you, color dancing on your cheeks as your thighs shift, earning his smirk. “You’re so crazy.”

“You want it. Well, c’mere then.” He shoves his plate out of the way, tapping the table as you can’t help but giggle. “Think I’m kidding? Think I don’t want you spread for me?”

“Jesus Satoru…” You take a step now, then another, setting down the coffee on the counter. “Did you miss me so bad?”

Yes, he did.

He wants your taste to soak into him again.

He smiles though, hands on your hips when you finally stand right between his spread thighs, just inhaling you. “God you smell so sweet.”

“Mnh…” Just a kiss and a tug over your shorts has you weak, your fingers brushing through his silky locks, when your phone starts blaring the alarm. “Oh shit… the ultrasound.”

“Mmm, can we be late?” He raises a brow and you feel so sexy then, it’s like all your worries fade for just a moment.

“No, but…” You kiss him quickly, disentangling yourself now. “Thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for wanting to have two meals for breakfast. What do they call that, nerd, hmm?” Your lips twitch as he stands, so tall his hair is just a couple inches from your ceiling, you feel so small then, your heart thrumming in your chest as the two of you stand in your homey little kitchen.

You shouldn’t feel so much, think so much, he’s being sweet and supportive but… your heart and mind are racing places they should not. Thinking you’d love to just have him here, how funny a man who you used to ‘hate’ has become so precious in a month to you, even his phone calls and texts were more comforting than either of you are willing to admit.

“Second breakfast.” You answer, he chuckles just a bit, tilting your chin up then, sighing.

“You’re prettier.”

“No…”

“Why would I lie? I’m not nice am I?” His brow raises, and you bite your lower lip then. “Remember when I hung all your panties all over and everyone took pictures?”

“Oh jesus, yes. You were so mad I beat your ass at beer pong.” You shove at him now, glaring and looking far too fucking cute as he grins.

“You lost at the drink off. And you shouldn’t have had so many panties.”

Oh yeah.

You almost forgot.

Gojo was a little fratboy ASS.

******

Two years ago

You throw your arms up, cheering along with everyone as you land that last bouncy white pong ball right inside Satoru Gojo’s last red solo cup, essentially tearing down the ‘king of beer pong’. A man that had never lost, just lost to a girl who never played, and the horror on his face, his parted glossy lips and wide blue eyes, were so amusing you couldn’t stand it.

Good.

“I want a rematch!” He demands, in the middle of a toga party, everyone dressed in wrapped sheets with gold glitter on their skin, the loud music reverberating as you cross your arms, grinning. “Damn demon.”

“Demon? No.” You giggle though, demonically he swears, batting your pretty lashes up at him. “Just bested you and you’re salty.”

“Me!? No, beginner’s luck, fuck that.” You’re deviously laughing again, when Satoru smirks. “Fine, a drink off.”

“A drink off!?”

“Yep, the loser gets to embarrass the other, they have to deal with whatever the winner wants. Agree?” He raises a thin white brow, as you eye him, he’s slender sure but he’s six foot four, he clearly could handle more than you. “Whoever can not puke, and still walk a straight line, wins.”

“Bet, I will own your ass.” Your girls, especially Shoko and Utahime giggle, cheering you on, as Suguru and Sukuna smirk at each other, high fiving, and soon an entire party is damn near silent, watching you two.

“Feeling weak, sweets?” Satoru taunts, slamming back a shot then, and you’re already fucking tipsy, three in, but you damn sure won’t show it, even as the liquor warms your entire body.

“Hah, no, m’feeling great.” You down yours, a droplet falling across your chin then, he touches you with a thumb before he can stop himself, making you both pause, and whispers amongst the party goers. Shit even the music is softer, as everyone watches the two rivals of their college go at it.

Satoru Satoru Satoru.

There’s a quiet chant of his name, and he downs another, throwing his arms up like the annoying frat boy he is, chiseled muscles glinting under the strobing leds ahead, you try to ignore how it makes you feel. You try to pretend the losers you’ve fucked with could compete with how badly you truly want Satoru, but you’d die before you ever told him the truth.

And as Satoru sits back down, and your girls chant your name, he can’t stop but look at just how beautiful your skin looks glinting with glitter under these lights, how you look like a fucking goddess in your tied up sheet. So gorgeous for a moment he forgets just where he is, who he is, tired of acting like any girl that joins his bed tonight could touch your beauty.

Not that he’d tell you, he’d die before he did, looking at your petulant little scowl, your haughty raised brow, as you cross your arms and tap your foot, he hates that he notices your pedicure. He hate that he loves the pretty white glitter, that even your fucking feet in sandals turns him on, and he especially hates one thing, how unaffected you are.

You’re the only girl ever that was.

And the only girl he’d die to have.

Satoru spent all of last night jerking it to your latest instagram post, not that you’d ever know, so fucking sexy, smart, your attitude even just makes him hard in your presence. In a room full of writhing bodies, giggling girls and drunk ass men, all trying to party and forget that finals are looming, that the real world is just a couple years away, all he can see is you.

He watches you down another shot, as you just get even hotter, the more you challenge him, feisty little brat, taking on a huge, grown ass man and giggling like you’re big and bad. He talks shit, you talk it right back, until Suguru calls it. - “Time! Let’s see who can walk a straight line, huh?” 

Both groups chant your names, but you do stumble then, and Satoru catches you in his arms, grinning as you pout. “Ugh no way!”

“He won.” Sukuna announces, everyone starts cheering or booing depending on whose side they were on, and Satoru tries not to think how good you feel in his fucking arms, how he’d love you to just stay there.

“Not fair, sweets, I’m way taller.”

“Whatever I tried!” You shove at him, stumbling again, and he frowns, tilting your chin up and looking into now drunk, dilated eyes.

“Let’s… get you to bed… and some water?” He murmurs then, you blink in your drunken haze, biting your lower lip, trying not to let the words out that always loom to the surface, that you want him, that you enjoy him, enjoy all your dumb ass fights, all your rivalry.

He motivates you, pushes you.

He’s gorgeous, his arms feel too fucking good.

Your brain swirls, tummy lurching just a bit, as you realize you’re good and fucked up. “I can do it myself.”

“Will you ever just let someone help you?” You shake your head, Satoru rolls his eyes, following you when you trip on the stairs now, giggling, landing right in his arms once more. “Let me take you to bed, brat.”

“Oh fine.” You let him pick you up in his arms, inhaling that expensive fucking cologne, the one only he wears, Creed something- you looked it up one day and knew this fucker was rich. “You smell good.”

“You are wasted.” He smirks as he carries you up the winding stairs, heading to your hall now, murmurs of curious partiers ensuing, and you’re just clinging even tighter to his neck. “Which room is yours?”

“Mmm, 6A.” He opens your door now, Satoru has never been in your room, he can’t help but smile when he sees the amount of Harry Potter merch, and the Lord of the Rings posters all over.

“So nerdy.”

“I’m a Slytherin, sss.” You earn his laughter, as he eases you down, eyeing how the sheet is falling, making him flush, clearing his throat. “Satoru is scared of a naked girl, no way.”

“You’re terrifying is all. In general.”

“Mmm, it’s the Slytherin in me. Whoopsie, I’m naked.” You’re giggling now, stumbling over to your dresser, Satoru faces away quickly, one thing he’d never do is take advantage of a drunk girl.

Even though he’s dying to know what your body looks like, he busies himself by going to your little fridge, pulling out a cool water bottle. “You need water.”

“Thanks dad.” You’re giggling as he turns back around, your top half off and turned, shorts barely on, Satoru grimaces, handing you the bottle, gently moving your top. “You’re not shitfaced?”

“Nah, I can hold a drink, lightweight.” You glare a bit, downing the bottle in thirsty gulps, moaning, the sound so sexy his dick twitches in reaction.

“Why do you hate me?” Your question catches him off guard, he gets your top adjusted just to see perky nipples pressing thin material.

“Why do you hate me, drunky?” He asks softly, and you sigh, stumbling a bit as he helps you into bed, leaning over you now, tensing as your fingers trace his jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” He pauses, laughing now.

“You’re annihilated.”

“You’re beautiful alright. Mmm. No wonder they all line up.” He’s setting your water down as you doze off now, kissing your head gently, something he never thought he’d do, let alone with you.

“And you’re gorgeous, stubborn brat.” His whisper is met with your snore, he can’t help but stare at you for longer than he should, before he smirks, looking back at your dresser.

He sure won.

And that means…

Revenge.

*****

Present day

“You hung up all my boxers as revenge, even my Digimon ones! I’d say you got revenge.” Satoru teases, not knowing if you remembered any of that night after you’d been so drunk, and you show no signs of recollection as he wolfs down the food hungrily.

“I sure did. Those Digimon ones were cute.”

He smirks now. “Those Slytherin panties were sexy.”

“Oh yeah?” You raise a brow, and he grins.

“Oh yeah.”

The ultrasound this time was over the tummy, thank goodness, and this time it’s a little different, Satoru’s hand is on yours as he sits next to you, much different than the mess the two of you had been last time. The cold clear ultrasound liquid pours on your slightly rounded tummy, the cool wand pressing, just a little uncomfortable as they press harder, and you two look at the screen.

“There it is.” The doctor says, and you and Satoru hold your breath, the baby already looks more like a baby, this time you see it moving, it’s little legs, it’s head, making you tear up, and Satoru holds his breath.

“Look, long legs like dad already.” He says, voice just a bit husky, you’re blinking tears back as you grin.

“Can we see if it’s a boy or girl?” You ask, and the doctor smiles warmly, nodding at you.

“We should be able to, yes. Let’s see…” The doctor looks this way and that, pressing in different places, taking pictures on the black and white screen, when they finally get the view. “You’re having a little girl.”

“Oh my god.” You both whisper at the same time, you smile tremulously at Satoru, who’s enamored so clearly.

“Satoruette!”

“No.”

“A girl, huh?” Satoru’s murmuring later, as he takes you back home, hanging in your doorway, resting his elbow on the frame, and your bright, pretty smile nearly ends him.

God he wants you.

“A girl. Here…” You take one of the photos, handing it to him, he pulls out a black leather wallet, putting it in delicately, smiling so big. “She’s beautiful already.”

“How could she not be? You see her parents?” You flush a bit, looking down as he caresses your cheek.

“I’d really… love company tonight. If you could stay.”

“One sec.” Satoru practically bounces to the car, telling Kiyotaka he could head home, you’re smiling with amusement as he runs back, clearing his throat and grinning down at you. “Are you making dinner?”

“I’m making dinner.” The two of you, it feels so comfortable, so fucking natural, as you all talk, about his business, about your career, about the little girl growing inside of you, both of your little girl.

“You’re an amazing cook, shit.” He’s rubbing his tummy, sipping on the tea you’ve made to go along with dinner, and watches you rinse off the plates, looking over your shoulder at him. “Be a cute housewife.”

“Oh whatever!” You splash a little water from your hands as you dry them then, and he stands, coming so close to you, voice husky as he presses you against the counter.

“You would be. Barefoot, pregnant, look at you.”

“Misogyny!” You’re giggling when he picks you up, kissing you, the motion ruining any hope you have of acting normal, you tremble in his hold, in how good you feel in his arms.

“Feminism is so overrated.”

You roll your eyes, heating up at your proximity, at how your body reacts to his nearness. “You’re too much.”

“Hmm…” He’s kissing down your neck now, sighing as he pulls back then, looking down at you, blue eyes lit up so bright they’re insane to take in. “You got something for me to sleep in?”

“Your boxers work.”

“Oh yeah, so slutty.” He’s murmuring, raising a brow, as the two of you start kissing over and over, until he’s lifted you right on the kitchen table, just like he did this morning. “Did she miss me?”

“Fuck yes.” He’s chuckling, slipping up your skirt now, finding your cunt hot and eager, slipping two fingers in and earning your soft whine, kissing down your throat as your head falls back. “Please.”

“Who knew all this time, just had to get you to cum to be nice?’

“You- mnh!” He’s cutting your protest off with another kiss, a curl of his fingers in your slick, eager cunt.

“How many times did you cum thinking of me?” His cocky question earns your half assed glare, before you whine out and he pulls back, sucking on his fingers and moaning. “Answer me if you wanna cum.”

“You’re the worst. How many times did you stroke him, hmm?” Satoru cries out as you turn the damn tables on him, stroking him over his slacks, finding him hard and throbbing, precum leaking even through the material, which you thumb now. “Every night looking at my picture?”

“Brat. Evil. Demon.” His cheeks flush as he eagerly unzips his pants now, and hungrily leans down, lapping at your cunt hungrily, tongue slipping up your slit, moaning at your taste. “You this soaked baby?”

“Fuck me, fuck me please!” He’s in a rush, he’d like to take his time, but he can’t stand not being inside of you one more moment. He shoves his cock in your tight little cunt, making you cum then and there, shattering and making him sensitive as he watches you, kissing your plump lips, hand entangling in your hair.

“God, fucking feel her. So wet, so perfect.” His words along with his strokes end you, as he presses you harder against your own kitchen table, dishes and utensils clattering to the floor.

Satoru is still dressed, shit so are you, as he slides his cock in your eager hole, stuffing you so full, your cunt dripping all over, pooling on the wood underneath the two of you, and your head falls back, smacking it with a loud thud then. You wince and he panics, holding his hand under your head now, pausing.

“Shit you good!?” He huffs, pausing his strokes, you nod now, as he rubs the growing bump.

“I’m good, please more.”

“Baby you’re pregnant, should you be bashing your head!?” You glare up at him, cunt gripping him and eliciting a whine.

“Fuck me.”

“Demanding!” You’re giggling, he hopes you aren’t loopy, when he fucks back into you, careful to keep a palm under your head.

“You’re… so thick, mnh, there!” He’s groaning, losing himself inside you, feeling your soft curves under him, your breasts in his grip before he pulls back, finding your clit and rubbing, making you convulse under him. “Satoru!”

“That’s it baby, that’s it… f-fuck oh my… are you…” You’re gushing now as he elicits an orgasm that has you squirting all over his cock, screaming out, slamming your damn head back again as he pauses. “Water break?’

“You!” He’s chuckling, playing with your cunt in wonder, easing back a bit, slapping his cock right on your clit, making you gush more clear arousal all over, as you grip him, cunt pulsing more and more.

“You squirt?”

“I g-guess…” You’re damn near delirious, blushing as you see the mess you’ve made now. “Oh I…”

“Messy girl, tsk. Don’t do that when you’re far along, I’ll panic.” You scowl again, as he’s chuckling, fucking his dick into you deeper, as you cling to him, and he hears the wet sounds of his fucking echo in your kitchen.

“You’re… ridiculous- ah!” He’s moaning now, closer and closer, tip leaking precum and dragging just that spot, having you cumming all over once more, until you’re so weak and fucked out that you can barely function, just clinging to him as he pushes you further, a hand entangling in your hair at the nape of your neck. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“Bossy. Bratty. I’d spank you, choke you if you- ah, cumming from the thought, can’t help yourself?” He’s talking shit but you can’t argue, not when you can’t stop cumming, and he’s looking down at you with those eyes of his. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm!” You drag him down for a kiss, whispering - ‘cum in me’ and Satoru is not going to deny you it, no he fills you so good, until you’re both a complete fucking mess, sweaty, sticky, coated in both of your cum. You laugh after a moment, and he leans up a bit, looking at you curiously. “You really said, ‘Did my water break’ you jerk!”

Satoru laughs with you, easing out and pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks. “It scared me.”

“Whatever! I didn’t know…” You trail off, so cute Satoru can’t stand it, as the realization that he did that makes him damn near feral.

“I’m the first to make you?” You nod shyly, burying your face, inhaling that cologne that always tantalizes you, and he hums a bit. “I like that.”

“Making me cum so much?”

“I like that it’s me that has. Maybe I’m… feeling a little possessive, you are my baby mama.” You giggle now, and he pulls back, lips parting, wanting to say more, but stopping himself a bit, dizzy off you. “Let’s clean up.”

Soon you’re both all ready for bed, and Satoru hops in first, taking over your bed almost entirely with his long lanky body, patting a spot next to him and grinning at you, you roll your eyes a bit. “You’re too big for the bed!”

“You could come to my house anytime you know. Way bigger beds.”

“Hmm.” You come to lay down now, and he pulls you against him, the two of you try to ignore just how good and right it feels, while he presses little kisses on your bare shoulders.

“Why’d you want me to stay, miss me so bad?”

“I’m… lonely without you.” He pauses, faltering in his teasing, leaning up on an elbow, turning your face to him, sighing as he sees the emotions there. “Ignore it.”

“Ignore it?”

“Yeah. We have our lives, I don’t want to complicate it more for you. It’s fine that you went, that you had fun.”

“I didn’t.” You blink curiously, as he sighs, pulling you even tighter against him, hard chest against your back, arm wrapped around your waist, a hand splaying your tummy, feeling so perfect, so right.

“You didn’t?”

“No. I missed you too. Okay?” You nod then, he kisses you softer, sighing, breath tickling your swollen lips. “Alright waterfall, go to bed.”

“Waterfall!?”

“Mmhmm, monsoon.”

“Oh jesus.” He’s chuckling, the mood is eased, but the two of you lay there for far too long, as he holds you tightly in his arms, thinking.

A girl, you’re both having a girl.

The baby feels so real now, as he holds you close, burying his face, hearing you lightly snore, smiling against your neck. He dreads going back to work, he dreads doing anything but holding you, kissing you, being with you. Of course having you cum all over his cock was amazing, but this is just as good, fucking…

Terrifying.

He doesn’t know if you feel anything close.

******

Three weeks later- five months along

The next few weeks fly by in a blur, no doctor appointments but Satoru frequently calls and messages. Once you heard a party in the background, and part of you feels this… sadness, you can’t just do that ever again. It’s fine, sure, but your life now is work, trying to make sure they still don’t ask you if you’re pregnant, despite your tummy growing, and tits swelling, and then…

Studying.

The more you do learn about being a parent, the harder it becomes to fathom it, the responsibility, shit at any moment a baby can just… not live anymore, and you have to be afraid of everything. Is the baby getting the right nutrition, will you have a normal labor, will the baby be healthy inside your tummy. So much information the stress eats at you.

You have no reason to really see Gojo, so when he pops up knocking on your door suddenly, you falter. You see him on your app, and use the buzzer to murmur ‘hang on a minute’ as you hurriedly rush and wash your hot cheeto dusted fingers, and brush your teeth. You peer at your dark circles- another pregnancy gift, surprise, you’re anemic!

Shit.

Why would he find you attractive, in your dumb little sweats that you’re almost not able to pull over your ass, that has just gotten bigger. Apparently girls do that, they make your ass and hips huge too. You frown as you turn in the mirror, tummy pooching out of the tee shirt that once covered it, and Satoru is still annoyingly ringing at your door bell, at ten pm.

“Hold on!” You stomp over to the front door, opening it then, and he’s still got stupid black shades on, grinning down at you, as he leans a hand on your doorway, you see his car right behind his body in your parking lot. “What’s up?”

“I needed to… see you, it's been weeks. I…” He trails off, eyes darting down your body, nipples that just want to poke out of your white tee shirt, then lower to your tummy, making him falter. “You’re showing more.”

“Yeah, I know.” Your dejected voice makes him frown. “Did you need something, or…”

“Just… I felt like… I should be here?” You blink a bit then, flushing in his presence, finally stepping aside.

“Come in, I’m sorry. I’m cranky.”

“You were before the parasyte-”

“Satoru!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds his hands up in defeat, and you relax just a bit.

“I’m feeling so achy, tired… I’m anemic I guess.”

Satoru frowns now. “That’s low iron, yeah?”

“Hot cheetos aren’t a good source of iron.” You’re smiling just a bit, and he’s chuckling, brushing back his white locks and easing off his shades now, blue eyes so pretty they wreck you, even as used to them as you are.

“Iron supplements then. Are you taking any?” You nod a bit, tugging at your shirt, and his hand comes to touch your tummy now, making your breath catch. “Bad girl, better take that iron.”

“You gonna punish me, hmm?” He’s leaning lower now, stepping further and further inside your quiet little home, hand firmly on your tummy as he backs you until you’re against the opposite wall.

“Think I won’t? Did you miss me sweetheart?” His voice is cocky, full of himself, but you hear it, the vulnerability, the raw need.

Your heart pounds as you nod just a bit, before you can stop yourself, shaking your head. “No way.”

“Did she miss me?” He’s got a thigh between yours, moaning as he feels your heat, hands on either side of your head, his own resting on yours as he bends over, earning your whine as he presses his thigh up.

“You missed me? Or her?” Your breathy words are right against his lips, and he dies to tell you, how badly he’s wanted to come over, how badly he needs you, all of you.

But he gulps instead, lifting that strong muscled thigh higher, watching your pretty face falter, breasts that have gotten so much fuller rising with your breaths enticing him, making him lower a hand. He brushes the sides of them with his fingertips, watching your nipples perk out more in response, cock throbbing with need now.

“Maybe I missed you both.” His hushed declaration ends you, your hands slipping up his polo now, gripping the material tightly and yanking him lower, while you arch your hips.

“Am I still sexy, Satoru?” Your whisper ends him, he moans now, hands finding purchase on your hips.

“So sexy I can’t think of anything but fucking your sweet little cunt, hmm?” You’re tearing his clothes damn near off him, releasing every bit of anything you’ve been holding back, as you both stumble back to your room. ‘Missed you, fuck’

You think you heard that, but it’s hard to hear when there’s ringing in your ears, when you’re struggling to catch your breath, with just how good Satoru fucking feels, the way he touches you, how he just lifts you like you’re nothing, even as you feel so weird in your own body. He just forces your brain to think of one thing- fucking him, kissing him, feeling him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, on his knees as he slips off the rest of your clothes, falling in a whisper to your ankles, kissing a new little mark left by his baby, making him feral, groaning as he inhales you, but you’re yanking up on him.

“Satoru, please fuck me.” Satoru’s not going to turn you down, ever, he’s immediately hard, kissing you deeper and deeper, hand reaching down to grip swollen breasts, moaning.

“Which way, baby, hmm?” He’s whispering, you press him down then, right on your bed, and he tries to take your shirt off, making you pause. “Lemme see you, fuck, please…”

“I’m all jiggly ugh!” He’s shaking his head, lifting your top now, your tits bounce out, full of milk already, while his cock strains against his black boxers, his snowy lashes lowering and casting shadows against his high cheekbones.

“Fucking sexy, shit.” He’s running a hand over your tummy now, thumb brushing a new stretch mark, as you hungrily kiss him, grinding your slick cunt against him, soaking his denim. “Lemme touch you.”

You nod weakly, as he reaches down, rolling his thumb against your clit, which twitches and throbs in reaction, soaking him further. Your head falls back, it feels so fucking good, the two of you have barely seen each other with your work, and his running of his company, so much that it’s probably been a few weeks since you’ve cum at all.

“So eager, baby, huh?” His taunting should annoy you, but it doesn’t, you’re whining and nodding, as he taps your hip, urging you to kneel, and he slips his pretty cock out, smacking his belly button with precum. “God, so wet.”

“Need it, fuck, please.” You’re grinding your slick, eager cunt along his length, as Satoru moans out, urging you with your hips, fingers gripping the curve of them.

“Then take it baby.” You whine out, leaning forward, titties in his face, he sucks at a nipple, sore and sensitive, making you wetter, tummy clenching.

“Satoru!” You’re reaching down, gripping his thick length with a small little hand in comparison, looking down as you guide his tip against your entrance.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you can take him all, can’t you?” You shake your head, struggling to take just the tip of him, whining out, he chuckles then, flipping you over, kissing down your tummy, as your hands enwrap in his hair.

“Satoru…”

“Let me get her nice and ready, huh?” You’re flushed as he kisses even lower, spreading your thighs and groaning at the sight of your slick, glistening pussy, latching his mouth right around your clit, sucking it in as he holds your lips open, moaning as he eyes you.

Your breasts bounce, so full, his hand resting right on your rounded tummy, while you yank on his silky locks, gasping. “There, oh there, please don’t stop- m’so close, Toru please…”

“Mmm, that’s it, cum all over m’face, sweetheart.” He urges, and you shatter, thighs trapping his head in the best position he can even imagine, shaking on either side while your cunt drools out more and more. “That’s it…” He’s mumbling, yanking you closer on his face now.

Everything that’s been swirling through your mind shuts off completely, as your orgasm rocks through your body by his far, far too talented tongue, teeth, fingers, all of him working you so fucking well. ‘M-missed you’ may have slipped from your lips, earning his widened blue eyes.

“Missed me?” He repeats, pressing a kiss on your quivering little clit, slipping two fingers inside your heat as you nod then, tears making your eyes glimmer from just how good it feels. “Missed me making you cum?”

“And more, shh.” You shut him off as you stroke his cock, making him groan, he leans over you now, lifting a thigh and sinking inside you in one stroke. “Fuck, so big oh my god…”

That’s nice to hear.

He’s smirking as your eyes roll back, fucking into you, careful to keep his weight off your tummy, but suddenly as you’re rolling your hips up, he feels something. You’re clinging to him, he’s sucking on a puffy little nipple, moaning at how good you feel, trying to ignore what just occurred, what he just felt from you, when suddenly it happens again, and he pauses.

“Is that… is she kicking?” He whispers now, pulling back, your face is covered in a thin sheen of your sweat, as you lean your head up a bit, looking down and touching your lower tummy.

“Probably all the excitement. It’s fine.” You’re yanking him down for another kiss, and Satoru yanks back. “Satoru, please…”

“The first kick and I’m… oh my god.”

“You’re getting soft, ugh!”

“Sorry, but oh my god.” Satoru pulls back, huge cock even on soft, as he panics, hand slicking through his white locks, shaking it in shock. “What if she knows!?”

“Satoru, she doesn't know, stop it.” You’re up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath as you watch your… baby daddy?... panic.

“What if the first thing the baby knows is my dick!? Shit!” He’s hopped off the bed now, pacing completely naked, and you grimace, laying back, body on edge, pussy still fucking pulsing around nothing now.

“It doesn’t know that, there’s a cervix there!”

“I’m huge, what if-”

“Oh jesus, why did I think you’d want to?” You’re sniffling now, standing and rushing over to your dresser, starting to snatch up clothes, and Satoru immediately stops you.

“No, no I want you, I swear.” You turn and he sees your tears, cursing. “I do, you’re gorgeous like this.”

“I am not, you were just being nice. I’m all jiggly ugh! And you don’t even… I shouldn’t have suggested that.” You’re a mess as you dress up, Satoru’s pulling you against his chest, leaning down as you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t anymore, I’m sure you can have anyone.”

“What now?” He glares down at you, cupping your face, feeling you tremble in his hold. “That’s bullshit. This is not about you it’s… I’m scared I’ll hurt the baby.”

“Sex is fine, even close to delivery, I’m not so far we can’t go at it.” You eye him now, shaking your head. “Pregnant sex can be weird I’m sure, I shouldn’t have… pounced on you, shit.”

“Stop it. Now.” He grabs your chin, pressing a kiss on your lips, feeling how tense you are as his other hand slips up your back. “I want you. I just got… scared. It’s not how I wanted to know she kicks now.”

You sigh now, nodding and kissing him again, letting him hold you so tightly, fuck it feels good, just being in his arms. So good it’s scaring you. “You’re a good person.”

“What now? You bonk your head again?”

“You are. You’re sweet and caring, and you’re sparing my feelings.”

“Oh fuck this.” He glares, turning you around now, until you’re facing your dresser mirror, looming so tall over you as he arches your back, slipping your shorts right back off. “Look at you.”

“A mess…” He sighs, yanking your top off, a hand gripping a tit, squishing it in his big palm as he presses his cock back against your entrance, watching as your eyes dilate in the reflection, your teeth catching your bottom lip.

“Beautiful mess. Sexy, these tits, this ass? This body… those eyes…” He presses his cock inside you, lifting your thigh up as he bends down, resting your thigh up on your dresser, holding you like you’re nothing. “This perfect, tight little cunt around me.”

“S’good, you’re- ah!” He’s slammed his cock deep then, your hand comes to rest on the cool glass of the mirror, leaving a palm print as he shoves his cock so deep, throbbing in your slick walls, which gush down his length.

“You’re gorgeous, talk shit again and I’ll punish you, hmm?” You nod eagerly, as he laughs against your neck, fingers twisting your nipples. “This is what you wanted, should have asked me over. Needed to cum all over my cock, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, please, please- mnh!” You’re done as he fucks into you, a little rougher but still cautious, holding onto you, your head falls back against his chest, his reflection revealing eyes nearly black with desire, his huge hands overtaking you by every inch of your skin, his teeth sinking into your neck when he hits deep, making you gasp.

“That’s it, cum f’me baby…” His words end you again, when don’t they, but something is so intimate when he tilts your chin down. “Watch how pretty you still are, you’re prettier, okay?”

You tear up as you nod, and one thing hits as deep as his long, curved cock against your cervix-

Your feelings.

You’re in love with him.

Fuck.

You’re convulsing when he presses in once more, having you watch until you can’t even see anymore, until your eyes roll back and you’re blinded, drool falling right out of your mouth as your walls flutter around him. Satoru groans, you’re so sensitive you can’t stop cumming, when he fills you so good, cum coating every bit of your slick hole now.

He’s whimpering in your ear, clinging to you, and one thought reigns through his ringing ears, as he feels you twitching and shaking in his embrace, as he feels your muscles pushing his cum all down his length, mixing with your slick arousal. One thought infiltrates his mind as he watches your beautiful face, as he hears your whines, as he sees your eyes open back up.

He’s in love with you.

Fuck.

Has he always been?

He eases you down now, gently, eyeing the condensation left from your breath against that now messy mirror, both of your hand prints against it, his so big, yours so small in comparison. He places your feet on the floor after pulling his thick cock out of your tightening cunt, still staring at you in the mirror now, gulping down the heavy emotions of the moment.

He knew it wasn’t just sex, he knew something deeper was there, but the way your eyes meet him, the way you’re clinging to him, the way his hand brushes your tummy, pressing just a bit, it’s so intimate it takes his breath. The madness, the passion, it’s just pieces of it, the connection, then and there, without words, overwhelms his senses so badly he can’t imagine not having this.

“Thank you for it, all of it. Thank you for-”

“Shh.” He turns your chin, lowering his head, taking over your every sense, when you taste yourself on his plump lips, pressing kisses against yours. “Don’t thank me for showing you the truth.”

“Satoru…” You turn now, pulling him down, kissing him over and over, as he pulls you gently against him, picking you up in his arms, lifting you until you’re sitting on your dresser, exhaling and running his hands down you. “You make me feel so pretty.”

“You should. One thing you’ve always been is pretty, even when you’re mean, or… psychotic.” You’re laughing now, as he continues to swipe your tears. “I’d never be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“I know that. I got in my head?”

“So did I, shit.” You both laugh softly, and Satoru’s alarm goes off, he grimaces as he looks at it. “I have work in the morning or I’d stay.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can go if you need.” He frowns now, shaking his head just a bit, brushing your hair back off your neck, as the ceiling fan works overtime to make either of your overheated bodies cool.

“Come stay with me for a couple days, help me set up a nursery? You can spend all my black card you want.” You giggle now, nodding, earning his relieved little smile, you’re so stressed, he can feel it in your energy, he can see it on your pretty, exhausted face.

“I’d love to. I’m so excited.” Soon you’re both by the front door, and Satoru’s kissing your head, holding you against him tightly.

“We are naming her Satoruette, right?”

“No way.”

“Maybe you are still mean.” He pouts, earning more of your laughter, tilting your chin up as the cool breeze from the dark, starry night pours in.

“Kiyotaka better get good money for all this.”

“He’s richer than me, psh.” You roll your eyes, falling back into his hug.

“I’m… excited to spend time with you.” Your whisper touches him then, as he holds you close, falling deeper every moment, feeling a little kick against him.

“All you need is dick hmm?”

“Oh god!”

He’s grinning, so fucking handsome then, with the moonlight enhancing that tall silhouette of his, your heart races. You almost say you love him, fuck it feels horrible not saying it, but what does that make the two of you? So far you’re practicing being friends, co parents, sleeping together, but tonight, when he whispered how pretty you were?

When he held you?

When he reassured you?

Fuck you can barely hold the words back.

“Get some sleep, go eat your hot cheetos.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully as he grins, leaving you alone, back resting against the cool wood of your door, mind whirling.

After a nice hot shower, you get your text, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to them, to them all. Even his pervy, ridiculous and goofy texts- like this one.

 Fratboy Gojo🙄 Tell Satoruette good night from her Papa <3 

You giggle, shaking your head, sipping on some water as you set the smut book you’ve been reading on your tablet down.

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Satoruette will never be her name, but I will tell her good night for you.

Satoru smiles down at his phone, he can still taste you, he can still inhale your scent all over him, see your pretty face in his head. He turns on his side, dying to hold you in his arms once more, only once he ever had really, but he longs to have you, to have you all the time.

Fratboy Gojo🙄 Daddy says good night to you too.

Sorority Brat 💦😻 I’m never calling you daddy!

Fratboy Gojo🙄 You will one day ;) 

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Lol, good night Satoru, see you soon.

Fratboy Gojo🙄 Good night, sweets.

The two of you fall asleep, love deep in your hearts and building with each breath, him holding a body pillow, picturing you, as you touch your tummy lovingly, feeling a little kick, smiling now. “Dad said good night, sweet girl.”

They're in lovvvvvee- I snorted at several scenes here, I have way too much fun with him. I said four parts so expect either a VERY long next part for the last, or two more (it's me lol) hope you enjoyyy

taglist #1- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97 @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @nkpajares @emonaculate

[thinkinonsense]

ok so i had a thought😏😏 dbf!logan takes ur virginity and from then on u guys hook up whenever u get a chance (all the time). one night he gets done dicking u DOWN and u say u love him and he’s all like “we can’t do this anymore kid” very ANGSTYYY

i love you, i'm sorry- dbf!logan howlett x fem!reader

part two *mdni

"i love you, logan."

four little words that would send your world crumbling before your feet. the older man lifts himself from in between your chest, both of you panting post orgasm. nights like this had become a bad habit for the both of you.

from the moment logan first slipped off your panties in this exact spot a year ago, you had been wanting to tell him how you really felt. you wanted to tell him how you craved his touch when he wasn't around, how you adored the way he took care of you and most importantly, how this didn't feel 'casual' to you anymore.

seconds turned into minutes of silence, desperately waiting for logan to say something; anything.

"lo, are you going to say some-"

"we can't see each other anymore, kid." he says, avoiding eye contact with you as he pulls out.

"what?"

this wasn't real. that's the only sentence that your brain could form as you watch him put his boxers back on. you laid there on his bed, naked, vulnerable, with his cum dripping out of you and he can't even look you in your fucking eyes.

"ya' heard me." logan says, putting a cigar in his mouth and tossing your dress on the bed next to you.

"what happened?" your voice was trembling on the verge of rage and heartbreak.

"i told you a year ago not to bring that 'love shit' in here."

a year ago when he took your virginity. he promised to be gentle and to care for you. guess that didn't extend past sex for him.

you scoff, pulling your sundress over your head. "you didn't say that when you said you love how tight i fit around you or when you said you love how well i know you. was any of that even true?"

logan ignored you as he lit his cigar and waited for you to leave. you stand up and walk over to him, touching his chin and turning to so he's facing you.

"look me in the eyes when you kick me out of your bed." you spit angrily at the man you adored endlessly.

all logan could see was your eyes full of tears and your red puffy lips, trying to keep yourself together. deep down, he knew he deserved all the shit in the world thrown at him for him for breaking your heart. you would never understand why he had to be so cruel but his intentions were never to hurt you like this. it killed him.

"find someone your own age to love, kid." logan says, twisting the knife.

"don't call me kid, logan!" you yell at him. "i'm not a fucking child!"

"then stop acting like one!" his voice boomed back at you, spurring on more tears.

who had he turned into? you couldn't recognize the man in front of you. this wasn't your logan.

"so, you're just going to let me leave like this?" you cry, glaring at him. "give up everything we have all because you're afraid of me loving you?"

you didn't expect an answer, he already shoved your hand away from his face, no longer wanting the image of your broken heart haunting him.

logan wanted to tell you everything, explain why he can't accept your love because it will put you at a greater risks, but logically, logan knows he has to let you go.

"in ten years, when your ass is still sitting drunk on one of my fathers bar stools and he shows you photos of me and a man who can appreciate me for more than sex, a man who can admit he loves me back, you'll remember this moment because this will be the last time you ever fucking see me." you tell him rather calmly as you collect your shoes and purse.

logan watches you do as he asks and leave. if he was a better man, he would have done it differently; but then again, if he was a better man, he never would've fooled around with a twenty-something year old.

the front door slams with a broken sob escaping your lips. from the bedroom, logan could hear your car engine starting and that's when he could allow himself to grieve the life he would've had.

[unluckilyimnot]

reader hugging them for the first time

Characters : mikey, chifuyu, kazutora, koko, rindou, sanzu, wakasa

asked by : @ejtheoneandonly

m.list | rules

note: i hope it's what you expected ! it's been a while since i write for them, it makes me nostalgic

Mikey isn’t really surprised when your arms wrapped around him for the first time. His eyes widened a little at the comforting feeling but soon, a huge smile flashed on his face before he turned to look at you slightly.

Something is warming up in his heart and he can’t put his finger on it. All he knows is that he wants to feel it again.

Chifuyu felt like he was in a manga. You grabbed his waist, pushed your cheek on his and snapped a picture with your phone. All of this happened so fast he didn’t get to process the moment but as your hand lasted a little around his back, his cheeks were already burning.

But he has to play it cool, leaning in as you showed him the picture. “We’re cute ! Send it to me later !”

future!roommate!Kazutora’s tears were falling down his face for a while now and when he heard the front door he kinda regretted staying there. You passed the door silently at first before hearing him sniff on the sofa. Taking a few steps after leaving your shoes at the entrance, you gasped slightly when you saw him.

He was pushing his tears away, trying to cover it up, he didn’t have any right to impose that on you. Yet, you didn’t think about it twice and your arms wrapped around his shaking shoulders, pulling him into your chest. “It's okay, it happens.”

Koko felt your body fall on his back while he was still studying at the library. Your arms kindly wrapping themselves around his neck as you took a look above his shoulders. “Are you done soon, Hajime ?”

He can feel his heart beating faster at the surprise, yet loving the way you warmed him up in a few seconds. He thought about it a bit longer than necessary and now, it took him too long to answer without sounding weird. But it’s fine. He could easily get used to you hugging him.

“Rindou I’m scared I can't jump from there ?!” you screamed from the low wall the Haitani brothers just passed by as if it was nothing. Rindou sighed a little before pulling his arms in the air, ready to catch you.

“Come on.” He could feel his ears burn when you smiled at him. He was shocked to see you jump with so much confidence when you were whining a second ago. You fell into his arms, holding onto him longer than you should’ve and he couldn’t help but not let go. He didn’t want to, this felt too good.

Future!Sanzu was shocked, like he never felt something so reassuring in his entière life the first time your hands pulled his head into your shoulder.

“It's alright.” Your fingers lightly brushing through his hair made him close his eyes, enjoying the moment the fullest. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this wasn't even real. But the warmth engulfing him felt so real that he wanted to keep it for himself only.

Wakasa knew you weren’t the one open with physical touch, but he never intended to ask anything about it or even mention it. He just acknowledged it a long time ago. So when you came to his place that night, crying, face bruised, he felt all his old anger coming back to him, wanting to know what happened. Who did that to you.

But before he could even open his mouth, your arms were wrapped around his waist and you started ugly crying in his chest, wetting his shirt. He froze for a second, processing the whole citation before hugging you closer, feeling proud that you thought of him in this vulnerable situation.

Let me know if you liked it !

Reblog are appreciated ♡

[amordixon]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ┆ 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you make coriolanus feel like he's losing control.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x district!reader, whole bunch of fluff honestly. 1.3k words .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; not going to lie... i loved writing this one. i don't think i've written anything as fast as i wrote this bc it truly just flew out of me. this man really has me acting up and i am so here for it.

coriolanus snow was never one to let himself be vulnerable in the eyes of another, and for as long as you had known him there was one thing you were always certain of, he had to be in control. he depended on it. craved it. the thought alone, of everything slipping from his grasp and not going to plan, made his head swirl and his skin crawl. 

so when he met you, he began to question himself. question everything he had been working for, everything he had been fighting for, as you slowly wiggled your way into his heart. he was taken by you, and that scared him. 

you were a breath of fresh air in his carefully curated world, a burst of colour amidst the struggles of his life. your spontaneity and liveliness enchanted him, capturing his attention and leaving him craving more. he had never felt this way about anything before. 

as you sat there in the beauty of the meadow, a gentle breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of the wildflowers. the sunlight streamed through the canopy of leaves above, painting a warm hue across everything it touched. the tranquillity of it all enveloped you, filling your heart with a sense of contentment.

you and coriolanus were close together on an old picnic blanket you had found, not needing any words to communicate as you took in the peacefulness. his presence alone was enough to make you feel safe and at ease.

you watch on as his fingers trail through the grass, stopping when he comes across a dandelion, and plucks it from its root, “it certainly doesn’t compare to the roses grandma’am grows.”

“some people think of them as weeds, but not me. i think they’re beautiful all the same,” you add, bringing a smile to each of your faces, and take the flower from his hands. “in some ways, i feel just like them; a weed in a world where i should be seen as more.”

coriolanus observes you as you take a closer look at the small flower, appreciating its simple beauty. the yellow, though not as vibrant as a rose, held its own charm. you don’t hold it for long before he takes it back, twirling it with his thumb and forefinger. 

he stares at the flower for a moment before reaching to brush the stem behind your ear, his fingers then lingering as he trails them along the line of your jaw, sending a surge of emotions down your spine. you smile at him, it’s all you could do. if you spoke you weren’t sure what jumbled mess was sure to spew out. 

you bring your hand up to meet his, intertwining your fingers as you lean into his touch. his eyes bore into you, taking you in, appreciating your features under the sunlight. 

“look what you’ve done to me,” he whispers, as if it were some unspoken secret. which, in your case, it was. 

intrigued by his statement, you perk up, “and what exactly is it that i’ve done to you, coriolanus snow?” 

you watch him intently as he opens his mouth to speak, a thought lingering in his mind before he stops and lets his head fall between his shoulders instead. his silence is heavy, lingering in the air between you. you can almost feel the weight of the unspoken words pressing against your skin. 

you reach out tentatively, your hand hovering just inches from his, wanting desperately to bridge the distance but afraid of intruding. the two of you have always shared a deep connection, but something feels different today. something is weighing him down, and you yearn to understand. 

as he continues to fiddle absentmindedly with a blade of grass, you can see that his mind is working overtime. thoughts and feelings swirl like a whirlwind, causing his brow to furrow and his grip on the grass to tighten. 

eventually, he looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty. two things coriolanus liked to keep to himself. 

it’s then that you decide to break the silence. “what’s wrong, my love?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone, you know.”

he looks at you, gratitude mingling with a wisp of fear in his eyes. whatever it was bothering him, you could see that it was taking its toll, and you simply wanted to take him in your arms and kiss it all away, but you knew that that wouldn’t help. 

“i don’t know what i’m doing anymore,” he finally answers. “i feel like i’m losing track of who i am and what i want, what i’ve always wanted, the longer i’m out here.”

“things can change, coriolanus, and you don’t always have to live up to others' expectations of you. especially, your own. so long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” his gaze falls from yours once again, but you refuse to let him suffer in silence anymore. so you reach for him, gathering his face between your fingers and pull him back towards you. “is it really such a bad thing? you get to be here with me.”

“that’s exactly the problem,” he admits, and your breath hitches momentarily as you wait for him to elaborate. “you make me feel like i’m losing control.”

for so long coriolanus had been bound by societal expectations and concerned with maintaining a pristine reputation. he had become so accustomed to a life ruled by rigid schedules and strict rules, never allowing himself to deviate from the norm. 

but with you, everything changed. 

you were afraid to ask, but you knew you had to, for your own piece of mind. “is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

he reaches to touch your face this time, your hands falling from his, and he pulls you closer towards him until your faces were merely a couple inches apart. “i have never felt so free, and yet, so scared in my life.”

“is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” you ask the question a second time, this time with more hesitancy as your voice shakes slightly. 

“it’s the best thing.” tears well up in your eyes as his words sink in. you never imagined that you could have such a profound impact on someone’s life, let alone someone as lost and conflicted as he was. “you’re my wildflower, and while i might not have been looking for you, i certainly found you where i least expected it.”

he smiles, his hands caressing your cheeks, as your heart thrums loudly in your chest, overjoyed and so full of love. leaning forward, you close the space between you, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, so full of passion that it almost envelopes you completely. 

you had brought coriolanus a sense of newfound freedom, showing him the beauty of embracing life’s uncertainties and every unpredictable moment. your spirit was infectious, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to your untamed soul. 

as he fell deeper in love with you, he realised that his heart yearned for the wildness and unpredictability you offered. he saw the vibrant world through your eyes, letting go of his inhibitions and stepping out of his comfort zone. 

you became his wildflower, a symbol of untamed beauty and unapologetic love. 

as you hold each other close, only pulling away to catch your breath, but not daring to pull away too far, coriolanus runs his thumb across your bottom lip. then, with his voice filled with tenderness and newfound appreciation, he whispers, “my wildflower.”

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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[spiderfunkz]

THE ART OF LOVE

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. no games au, all fluff, reader is an artist, established relationship, the use of 'y/n' like once.

author's note: hehehe, requests for hyun-ju are still open! please send me some more ideas for her, fluff and headcanons have been doing really well so maybe more of that. and p.s. i write for other squid game characters!! keep in mind to the read the guidelines before sending an ask.

you've always enjoyed art. to be creating intricate pieces that are just so full of love and passion, it's everything you've ever known. you've held it deeply in your heart ever since you were little. it's more than a hobby to you, more than just a form of expression— it had caused such a spark of creativity within you, you were able to create pictures that were straight from the soul.

everything you've ever molded, drew, or painted, they were all so greatly appreciated by your peers and you took pride in it. every single work you've made has held a story you weren't able to say aloud, your portraits spoke the sentences you could've never thought straight.

but you knew the struggles with pursuing an art career. though, you fully believe it'll all be worth it.

however during one rainy night, you were officially rejected from the last exhibition you proposed to. the subway ride back to your apartment was deafening, disappointment lingered in the air, your thoughts suffocated with the stress of the next step you should take.

that's where you first met hyun-ju. she was sitting just right in front of you, her head focused on her boots. you couldn't see her at first, still, you knew she had to be beautiful. her hair is well-kept, bangs neat, she seemed like such a lovely person to be around. your gaze sparked as she tilted her head up, revealing her unreal beauty.

you still had three more stops until yours, so like you always do, you grab your sketchbook to pass the time. you drew, traced lines, perfected the shapes, made sure you got all the right details. you sketched the woman in front of you.

she too had a curious eye on you. you seemed interesting, visually ambitious and passionate. she wondered what you were drawing, she wished she had the courage to speak to you.

she was fooled when you gave the picture of her. your voice was shy, but it held a very warm and welcoming tone, you're friendly, hyun-ju took note.

your stop was coincidentally the same as hyun-ju's, which obviously led to an awkward first conversation. you shared very vague stories of how you started art, you don't want to be vulnerable just yet, that's where your paintings take part.

and that all led to you today.

it was cold, the snow had calmed down a bit since the past weeks. you were sipping onto your last cup of warm hot chocolate. hyun-ju sat close next to you, her head slowly leaning on yours. there was multiple blank canvas' in the corner of the room, it all just came yesterday morning.

"y/n?"

"hm?" you hummed,

"can i ask you a question? or more or so, a request?" hyun-ju asked, you nodded. "could you teach me how to paint? i see you doing it a lot, and i'm very intrigued. you look so professional and i just wonder how you're just so talented.."

you smile, the hot chocolate left a foam mustache on your face. hyun-ju laughs, "please?"

"anything for my muse. come on. i'll teach you."

the rest of your day was spent guiding hyun-ju's hands as she painted the bouquet of flowers placed on a wooden table. it is simple yet a reminder of a memory you two spent. she was a natural. she sat near your lap, your hands held her waist as she began to paint the strokes herself.

"looks beautiful, hyun." your cheek squished hers, you cupped her face like a proud mother. "you think so?" hyun-ju questions, "i know so, when it dries, i'll hang it up in the living room." you place a kiss on her forehead before skipping away in excitement.

[novaursa]

Hi how are you doing? ☺️

Can you write a fem!targaryen x gwayne ( I love your fic on him 👉🏼👈🏼)

She’s the favorite children of Alicent, she was raised to believed in the seven and she’s very closed to aegon, she’s the only one who understand him.

When Her father wanted to marry her to Jace, Alicent see that as an insult coz he’s a bastard and decided to send her to Oldtown? And she started to become really close to her uncle Gwayne and when they come back to king’s landing people can see that they are too closed to be only niece and uncle.

But she denied everything (except Aegon because he’s okay with that nothing can shook him) and then she goes to pray in the sanctuary? Alicent and Otto are here to talk to her but like in a corner and they see Gwayne walking to her. Gwayne see them and decided to take her in front of them and the seven to make sure that they understand that she is his 👀

Of Gods and Blood

- Summary: Your mother, Alicent, sent you to Oldtown, to protect you from Rhaenyra's whims. Only for you to find comfort in your uncle’s arms.

- Pairing - niece!reader/Gwanye Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

- A/N: I had to change a little your plot near the end, to make the events more believe, both narrative and character wise.

You stand in the gardens of the Hightower, the sea breeze from the Whispering Sound tugging at the edges of your cloak. The sky is a soft hue of orange and pink, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient stones of Oldtown. The citadel bells ring in the distance, a sound that has become familiar in the months you’ve been here, far from the intrigues and dangers of King’s Landing. You draw in a breath, the salt air filling your lungs, yet your thoughts are not with the peace of the evening but with your brother, Aegon.

It is impossible not to miss him. From the time you were children, you were the only one who could reach him, the only one who could calm his tempestuous spirit. You understood him, even when others dismissed him as a drunkard or worse. You knew there was more to Aegon than his vices—there was a vulnerability, a deep-seated fear that he hid behind a facade of indifference and revelry. You were his confidante, the only one he trusted, the only one who could see the pain he masked with wine and women.

You wonder how he fares now, with you so far away. Does he still find solace in the bottom of a cup, or has he found some other way to numb the loneliness that gnaws at him? You worry, your heart aching with the absence of his presence, the way only a sibling can. You can picture him so clearly in your mind—his silver hair falling into his eyes, the way he would smirk when he was up to mischief, the rare moments when he would look at you with something close to gratitude. He never said it aloud, but you knew he appreciated you, perhaps even loved you in his own way.

But now you are here, in Oldtown, at the behest of your mother. You know why she sent you away, why she took her favorite child from the court. The memory of the conversation still haunts you, the way her face had paled when your father, King Viserys, had suggested you might be betrothed to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon. A match with the heir to Dragonstone would have been advantageous in the eyes of many, but not to your mother.

"Rhaenyra’s bastard," she had hissed when the two of you were alone. The horror in her voice was felt, as though the very idea of it sickened her. "I will not have you thrown to the wolves, not to her spawn. You are a trueborn daughter of House Targaryen, not some piece to be traded for peace."

You had not argued with her. How could you? She had always protected you, always made sure you were safe from the machinations of the court. And so, you had been sent to Oldtown, to the heart of House Hightower, where Rhaenyra’s reach could not extend, where you would be under the watchful eye of your uncle, Gwayne Hightower.

As if summoned by your thoughts, you hear the familiar sound of his footsteps approaching. You do not turn, not yet. Instead, you continue to gaze out over the water, allowing the moment to stretch out between you. When he reaches your side, he does not speak at first. The silence is comfortable, a sign of the ease that has developed between you.

“Do you miss it?” Gwayne finally asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“King’s Landing?” you reply, your tone contemplative. “At times. But it is more the people I miss than the place itself.”

“Aegon?” he guesses, and you nod.

“He’s reckless, foolish even,” you say, “but he’s my brother. I can’t help but worry for him.”

Gwayne’s hand brushes yours, a brief touch that sends a ripple of warmth through you. It’s not the first time his touch has lingered, but tonight it feels different—charged, somehow, with an emotion you dare not name.

“He’s strong in his own way,” Gwayne says, his voice reassuring. “He’ll endure, as we all must.”

You turn to look at him then, really look at him. His face is handsome, with the sharp features of the Hightower lineage, but there’s something more in his gaze tonight, something that makes your heart skip a beat. You see concern there, yes, but also something deeper, something that mirrors the turmoil in your own soul.

“And what of you, Uncle?” you ask softly. “Do you miss the court?”

His lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are some things I miss, but others… I think I prefer the peace of Oldtown.”

You realize then that he, too, is far from everything he knows, from the power and influence he once wielded in King’s Landing. Here, he is just another nobleman, albeit one with more authority than most. Perhaps that is why the two of you have grown so close in these months, both of you displaced, both of you adjusting to a life far removed from the one you were born into.

The breeze shifts, and you shiver slightly as the night begins to cool. Gwayne notices and, without a word, removes his cloak and drapes it over your shoulders. His hands linger on the fabric, his fingers brushing your skin. You feel a flush rise in your cheeks, your pulse quickening at the contact.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t step back, doesn’t create the distance that propriety would normally dictate. Instead, he remains close, his eyes searching yours. “You’re not just my niece,” he says, his voice rough, as though he’s struggling to find the right words. “You’re… you’re someone I care about. Deeply.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you are unsure how to respond. This is dangerous territory, you know, but the warmth in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you as though you are the only person in the world, makes it impossible to retreat.

“I care about you too, Gwayne,” you admit, your heart pounding in your chest. The truth of it hangs between you, heavy and undeniable.

His hand lifts, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in a tender caress. “We can’t…,” he begins, but the words trail off, unfinished, as though he can’t bring himself to complete the thought.

You don’t know who moves first, whether it’s you or him, but suddenly the distance between you is gone, and his lips are on yours. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though both of you are afraid of what this might mean, but then it deepens, becomes something more as you both give in to the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally pull back, you are breathless, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotion. You search his eyes, looking for any sign of regret, but all you see is the same longing that you feel.

“This…,” you start, but he silences you with another kiss, as though to say that words aren’t necessary, that whatever this is between you, it’s something that needs no explanation.In that moment, with the night closing in around you and the weight of your family’s legacy far behind, you allow yourself to feel something other than duty, something other than the constant pressure to be what everyone expects you to be.

You allow yourself to feel desire, and in Gwayne’s arms, you find a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were missing until now.

The wind tugs at your hair as you ride through the streets of King’s Landing, the noise of the bustling city swirling around you. It has been so long since you’ve seen the Red Keep’s towering spires that the sight of them, rising in the distance, feels almost surreal. The journey from Oldtown has been long, but you’ve barely felt the weariness, not with Gwayne at your side.

You sit in front of him on his horse, his strong arms wrapped around you as he holds the reins. The warmth of his body pressed against yours is a comfort amidst the cold and chaos of the capital, a quiet reminder that even in the midst of war and uncertainty, you are not alone. You lean back slightly, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips.

Gwayne notices, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “What’s that smile for, sweet niece?”

“Just thinking,” you reply, turning your head slightly so you can see him, “that I never imagined I’d return to King’s Landing like this.”

His expression softens as he looks down at you, one hand leaving the reins to brush a strand of silver hair from your face. “It’s a different city now, I think. The shadows feel longer, the tension thicker.”

You nod, your gaze shifting back to the streets. The people watch you as you pass, their eyes curious, some wary. You’re not sure if they recognize you or if they’re merely fascinated by the arrival of the Hightower forces, but there’s a murmur that follows you, whispers passing from one mouth to another like the wind.

The Hightower banners flap in the breeze, their green and white coloring stark against the duller hues of the capital. Soldiers march behind you, the sound of their armor clinking in rhythm with the horse’s hooves. There’s a grimness to it all, an unspoken acknowledgment of the battles that lie ahead. But it’s the whispers, the way people’s eyes linger on you and Gwayne, that you notice most.

You can almost hear what they’re saying—speculation and gossip about the nature of your relationship with your uncle. In Oldtown, the walls of the Hightower had protected you from such talk, but here, in the crowded streets of King’s Landing, there is no hiding from the scrutiny of the court and the common folk alike.

“Princess,” you hear someone mutter as you pass. “And her uncle?”

Another voice, this one sharp with curiosity, follows. “Isn’t she King Aegon’s sister? What’s she doing on his horse?”

You glance up at Gwayne, who seems to have noticed the murmurs as well. His jaw is tight, his grip on the reins just a bit firmer than before. It’s not anger you see in him, but something more protective, as though he’s ready to defend you against any slight, no matter how small.

“Let them talk,” you say softly, reaching up to place your hand over his. “It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s as though the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you. “It doesn’t,” he agrees, his voice low but firm. “But I hate that they’re looking at you like that, as if they have any right to judge.”

You squeeze his hand, a silent reassurance that you are not afraid of the whispers. In truth, a part of you is almost defiant, as if daring them to say more, to challenge what you’ve found with Gwayne. You’ve spent so much of your life doing what others expected, living up to the roles assigned to you. Now, for the first time, you’re following your own heart, no matter where it leads.

The Red Keep looms ahead, its stone walls imposing as ever. You can already feel the weight of the court’s eyes, the inevitable judgment that will come once you pass through those gates. The memory of your last days here comes back to you—your mother’s frantic insistence that you leave, the way she’d spoken of Rhaenyra’s children with such disgust. You wonder how she’ll react when she sees you with Gwayne, when she hears the whispers that have already begun to spread like wildfire through the city.

As you approach the entrance to the Keep, you feel Gwayne’s arm tighten around you, a silent promise of support. “We’ll face them as one,” he murmurs, and you know he means it.

The gates open before you, the sounds of the city fading as you enter the courtyard. The Hightower soldiers fan out, their disciplined ranks a stark contrast to the chaos of the streets outside. You dismount, Gwayne’s hand steadying you as you step onto the cobblestones. He’s at your side the moment your feet touch the ground, his presence a reassuring constant.

A group of courtiers is already gathering, their eyes wide with surprise and curiosity. You recognize a few of them—faces that once looked upon you with respect or envy. Now, their gazes are harder to read, filled with questions they dare not voice aloud.

You hear a soft gasp from the crowd as you take Gwayne’s arm, a gesture that would have seemed perfectly innocent were it not for the intimacy in the way your fingers linger on his sleeve. The whispers start again, a low hum that grows louder as more people filter into the courtyard.

“Isn’t that the Dowager Queen’s daughter?”

“They say she’s been in Oldtown for months. Why has she returned now?”

“Look at the way she’s holding on to him. There’s something more between them, I’d wager.”

You lift your chin, meeting their stares with a calm you don’t entirely feel. Beside you, Gwayne is the picture of composure, his expression revealing nothing of the emotions that must be roiling within him.

A familiar figure emerges from the entrance to the Keep—your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent. She looks regal as ever, her face composed, though you notice the slight furrow of her brow as she takes in the sight of you with Gwayne. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—relief, perhaps, at seeing you again, but also concern, as though she already suspects what the whispers are saying.

“Mother,” you greet her as you step forward, releasing Gwayne’s arm with a reluctant sense of propriety. 

“Daughter,” she replies, her voice cool but tinged with warmth. Her gaze flickers to Gwayne, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I did not expect to see you return with your uncle.”

“I wished to be with my family,” you say simply, your tone carefully measured.

Alicent’s eyes search yours, looking for something you’re not ready to reveal. “And you’ve chosen to return at a time of great unrest,” she observes, her voice soft enough that only you and Gwayne can hear. “But I’m glad you are here, truly.”

She doesn’t say more, but you know there will be questions later, in the privacy of her chambers, where she’ll expect answers about your time in Oldtown and what, exactly, has brought you back to King’s Landing now. But for now, she extends her hand to you, a gesture of welcome.

As you take it, you feel the eyes of the court upon you, feel the tension that thrums beneath the surface. Gwayne steps back, just slightly, as though to give you space, but you can still feel the warmth of his presence beside you. It’s a comfort, even as the whispers continue, the court already weaving their tales about the Princess and her uncle.

But you don’t let it bother you. Let them talk, you think, because no matter what they say, no matter the rumors that will no doubt spread, you know where you stand. You know what you’ve found with Gwayne, and you are not ashamed.

Together, you and your uncle follow the Dowager Queen into the Red Keep, the heavy doors closing behind you with a resounding thud. The halls are as grand as you remember, yet somehow smaller, as if the world beyond them has grown larger in your absence.

The whispers will follow you here, you know, but as you walk beside Gwayne, you feel a sense of resolve settle over you. You’ve returned to a city at war, to a family divided, but you are not the same girl who left. You’ve found strength in yourself, and in Gwayne, and you are ready to face whatever comes next.

The council chamber is dimly lit, the tall windows shielded by thick curtains that block out the midday sun. A fire burns low in the hearth, but the air is cold, heavy with the tension that seems to permeate every corner of the Red Keep these days. Alicent Hightower stands by the window, her hands clasped tightly together, her gaze distant as she stares out over the city. The rumors have reached her ears—whispers of impropriety, of a scandal that could bring ruin upon the family she has fought so hard to protect.

Behind her, Otto Hightower paces, his face a mask of calculated concern. The Hand of the King is rarely rattled, but the news has clearly unsettled him. His normally shrewd eyes are narrowed, his thoughts racing as he contemplates the implications of what he’s heard.

“I do not believe it,” Alicent says finally, her voice strained but firm. “She is my daughter, Father. She would not… she could not be so reckless.”

Otto stops his pacing, turning to face his daughter. “The court is filled with idle tongues, Alicent. But where there is smoke, there is often fire. We cannot afford to ignore this.”

Before Alicent can respond, the door to the chamber swings open, and Aegon saunters in, his tunic half-laced, a goblet of wine already in hand despite the early hour. He looks as though he’s just risen from bed, his silver hair tousled, his expression one of lazy amusement.

“Mother, Grandsire,” he greets them, his tone light, almost mocking. He takes a long sip from his goblet before sprawling into a chair by the fire, stretching out as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

Alicent’s lips thin as she looks at her eldest son, but it’s Otto who speaks first. “Aegon,” he says sharply, “this is no time for your usual games. Have you heard the rumors?”

Aegon raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “About my sweet sister and our dear uncle? Of course I have. Everyone’s talking about it. I’m surprised it took this long for you two to catch on.”

Alicent flinches at his words, her face paling. “Aegon, please,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “You must tell us the truth. Is there any merit to these rumors? Has your sister…?”

Aegon laughs, a low, careless sound that grates on both Alicent’s and Otto’s nerves. “Oh, it’s true, Mother. They’re quite the pair, those two. Didn’t you notice how close they were when they arrived? Or were you too busy trying to figure out how to win this blasted war?”

Otto steps forward, his voice cold as ice. “And how would you know this, Aegon? What proof do you have?”

Aegon looks up at his grandfather, his smirk widening. “Because I’ve been in contact with her, of course. My sweet sister’s been writing to me. She’s quite… explicit in her letters.”

The color drains from Alicent’s face, and she sways slightly, as if the very ground beneath her has shifted. “No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “No, she wouldn’t…”

Aegon shrugs, taking another sip of his wine, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Believe what you will, Mother, but you’ve always known she was different. Maybe that’s why you sent her away in the first place, hmm? To keep her from the likes of Jacaerys, but also to keep her away from prying eyes. But now she’s back, and well… it seems she’s found comfort in Uncle Gwayne.”

Alicent stares at her son, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought of her daughter—the one she has always favored, the one she has tried to protect above all others—being involved in something so scandalous is too much to bear.

“Aegon,” Otto says, his tone warning, “this is no laughing matter. This could destroy our house’s reputation, especially now when we can afford no more divisions. You must be mistaken.”

Aegon leans back in his chair, looking at the two of them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “You two really need to relax. So what if they’re lovers? We’ve got bigger problems to deal with than who’s warming whose bed. Besides, isn’t that what you wanted? For her to stay loyal to the family? At least she’s with one of our own and not off consorting with the enemy.”

Alicent presses a hand to her temple, trying to steady herself. She cannot allow herself to believe this—she must speak with her daughter, must hear the truth from her own lips. But the thought of that conversation, of what it might reveal, fills her with dread.

Otto, on the other hand, is already thinking ahead, his mind racing through the potential consequences. “This cannot be allowed to continue,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. “We must act quickly, quietly, before the situation escalates. We need to speak with her.”

Aegon lets out a derisive snort, raising his goblet in a mocking toast. “Good luck with that. She’s always been headstrong, you know. But by all means, go ahead. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to have a little chat about her personal life with you two.”

Alicent and Otto exchange a look, both of them realizing the gravity of the situation. They must tread carefully, for the sake of their family and their house, but they cannot ignore what is happening. 

Aegon watches them, a sly smile playing on his lips as he lounges in his chair, utterly undisturbed by the storm he’s just unleashed. “Good luck,” he says again, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re going to need it.”

As he takes another leisurely sip of his wine, Alicent turns away, her mind already on the difficult conversation that lies ahead, while Otto considers the best approach to take with his granddaughter. They know that whatever happens next, it will not be easy.

And Aegon? He simply reclines in his chair, pleased to have stirred the pot, content to watch the drama unfold around him, utterly unconcerned by the turmoil he’s just caused.

The Sept is quiet, the flickering candles casting a soft glow over the statues of the Seven. You kneel before the Mother, your hands clasped tightly together as you pray for guidance, for strength. The silence of the sacred space surrounds you, offering a moment of peace amid the turmoil that has settled over your life since returning to King’s Landing. The scent of incense lingers in the air, and you inhale deeply, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

You pray for your family, for the war that looms on the horizon, for the safety of those you love. But most of all, you pray for clarity—clarity about your feelings for Gwayne, about the path you should take now that everything has become so complicated. The Sept has always been a place of solace for you, a place where you could find peace in the embrace of the gods, but today, your mind refuses to settle.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the empty space, and you open your eyes, turning slightly to see Gwayne approaching. His expression is unreadable, his eyes dark and intent as he strides toward you. There is something about his presence that makes your heart race, something that makes you forget the sanctity of the place where you kneel.

“Gwayne,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “What are you doing here?”He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. “I came to make a statement,” he says, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

“A statement?” you repeat, confusion swirling in your mind. “To the gods?”

His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile. “To the gods,” he murmurs, “and to anyone else who might doubt where you belong.”

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. You gasp against his mouth, but the sound is swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. His hands move to your shoulders, pulling you up from your kneeling position so that you are standing before him. The softness of your prayers is forgotten, replaced by the heat that surges between you.

“Gwayne,” you manage to murmur between kisses, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and confusion. “What are you doing?”

His response is a low growl as his lips move down your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. “I’m making a statement,” he says again, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m showing the gods, and anyone else who might doubt it, that you are mine.”

The words send a thrill through you, a heady mixture of fear and desire. There is no hesitation in his actions, no sign of doubt. He pulls you closer, his hands moving to the ties of your dress, fingers deftly undoing them as he kisses you deeply, passionately.

You feel the cool air against your skin as your dress falls away, leaving you bare before him. Gwayne’s eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, and then his mouth is on yours again, hungry and demanding. You respond with equal fervor, your hands working at the fastenings of his tunic, needing to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in him.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he presses you against one of the stone pillars of the Sept. The sensation of his body against yours, the way he holds you as though you are the most precious thing in the world, drives all rational thought from your mind. There is only him, only the fire that burns between you.

When he enters you, it is swift, his movements driven by a need so powerful it leaves you breathless. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you cling to him, the sensation of him filling you overwhelming and utterly intoxicating. Gwayne sets a fast, demanding rhythm, his thrusts deep and sure, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, mingling with your own breathless gasps as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you. There is something almost sacred in the way he moves, something that speaks of more than just physical desire. It is a claiming, a vow, as if with every thrust he is binding you to him in a way that goes beyond mere flesh.

Your climax builds quickly, the intensity of your passion driving you both to the edge. You can feel him trembling against you, the tension in his body a mirror of your own. And then, with a final, shuddering thrust, you both find release, your cries mingling with his in the silence of the Sept.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing, the two of you still joined, still lost in the aftermath of your passion. But then you hear it—the sharp intake of breath, the horrified gasp that shatters the silence.

You turn your head, your heart plummeting as you see them standing at the entrance to the Sept: your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and your grandsire, Otto Hightower. Their faces are pale with shock, their eyes wide as they take in the sight of you and Gwayne, still joined, still locked in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

Gwayne doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch or try to separate from you. Instead, he turns his head to meet their gaze, his expression calm, almost defiant. He holds you even closer, his grip on your waist tightening as if to say that he will not be ashamed, that he will not hide what has just happened.

Alicent’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she takes a step back, unable to process what she’s seeing. Otto’s face is a mask of cold fury, his eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Gwayne, understanding dawning in his gaze.

You realize, in that moment, that this was Gwayne’s intention all along. He didn’t come to the Sept for the gods. He came here to make a statement, to show your family, the court, and even the gods themselves that you belong to him, and that he will not allow anyone to take you from him.

The weight of that realization settles over you, but it is not fear that you feel. Instead, it is a strange sense of certainty, a feeling that despite the scandal, despite the consequences that are sure to follow, you are exactly where you are meant to be.

Gwayne’s eyes meet yours, and there is a question there, a silent inquiry if you regret this, if you wish to be released. But you shake your head, your own resolve hardening. You lift your chin, your gaze steady as you look at your mother, at your grandsire.

Alicent takes another step back, her voice trembling as she whispers, “What have you done?”

But you do not answer. Gwayne is still inside you, still holding you close, and you know that whatever happens next, whatever judgment they pass, it will not change what you feel, what you have chosen.

Otto’s voice is cold as ice when he finally speaks. “This will have consequences,” he says, his tone filled with a warning that sends a chill down your spine. “You have made a grave mistake.”

Gwayne’s grip on you tightens just slightly, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “The only mistake,” he says quietly, “would have been letting her go.”

Alicent turns away, unable to bear the sight any longer, her hand still pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs. Otto stares at you both for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally turns to leave, his cloak swirling around him as he exits the Sept, leaving you and Gwayne alone once more.

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with the weight of what has just transpired. But as Gwayne gently lowers you back to the ground, as he pulls you close, his breath warm against your ear, you feel a strange sense of peace.

“I am yours,” you whisper, and he nods, his lips brushing against your temple.

“And I am yours,” he replies, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

And with that, you know that whatever comes next, whatever trials you may face, you will face them together. For Gwayne has made his statement—to the gods, to your family, and to you. You are his, and he is yours, and no force in this world or the next will tear you apart.

[brittscafe]

𝐁𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡

Pairing: Aizen Sosuke x reader

Summary: Aizen Sosuke and reader take a bath together.

Request: Taking a bath with Aizen

A/n: Heyyy! I really enjoyed writing something soft and calm for Aizen, I hope you enjoy! <3

Content: brief nudity, mostly sfw.

Ko-fi link (anything is appreciated <3)

You step into the warm room filled with steam and candles light up around the bathroom. The room is scented with vanilla and honey, a scent that pleases your nostrils.

Aizen is in front of you, bare back and muscles popping out. He turns off the faucet to the hot water, tub full of it and foamy bubbles. You quietly close the door behind you as Aizen turns around and faces you.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his chest and abs out for view. He clears his throat and your eyes shoot up to his own.

"Sorry," you grumble out as he walks over to you. A strand of his dark hair hangs down in front of his face and his lips twitch into a slight smile for just a moment.

He grabs onto your shoulders, a white robe covering your bare body underneath.

"No need to be sorry for staring, y/n. After all, I know you can't help yourself," he comments teasingly and your face heats up.

"Hey, that is not true," you huff out as he slowly takes off your robe off your shoulder. The loose robe drops onto the ground, leaving you vulnerable and bare in front of Aizen.

Nothing he hasn't seen before, you remind yourself. Aizen scans over your body, admiring it and slightly smirking. You scoff, catching himself staring and you walk past him.

You step into the bath, one foot diving into the hot water. The tub is deep as the water goes up to your knee. Aizen undresses himself as you allow the hot water to swallow the rest of your body.

Your muscles instantly relax and you let out a pleasant sigh, eyelids closing. You relish in the hot water that seems to get all the kinks out from your sore body.

The loud splashing of the water causes you to open your eyes, curious. Aizen sinks down into the water, holding onto the sides of the tub to ease himself in, muscles throbbing and flexing as he does so.

"This is nice," you hum out. Aizen nods his head, inching closer to you and reaching out his hand. You lift your hand up from the water, grabbing onto his.

Aizen pulls you closer, eyes glancing down at your lips. He desires them so much. He loves the way your lips feel against his, they feel so right.

"You're staring," you notice, smiling.

Aizen lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles in his throat as his hand grasps onto your jaw. His fingers are slick and wet, but still firmly grabbing your face and bringing you closer.

His dark eyes gaze deeply into yours, making your heart skip a quick beat.

"Is that so?" he asks, voice deep and sending a chill down your spine.

You nod your head and Aizen dips his head down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. The kiss is soft, warm, and wet. The kiss is so perfect and loving.

You wrap your arms around his neck, wet bodies pressing together.

Your lips melt together, not getting enough of each other just quite yet. You open your lips slightly, allowing for Aizen to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

You groan into his mouth as his free hand grabs onto your waist, squeezing the flesh. You giggle against his lips as his fingers tickle your skin.

You slowly pull away, nose bushing against his. You grab onto the bar of soap sitting in the corner and dip it into the water. You lathe the soap into your hands and start scrubbing Aizen's shoulder.

"You do know that I can wash myself, right?" he pokes at you as your hands move down to his chest. You feel his pecs and nod your head, giggling.

"Oh, trust me, I do. You always do everything yourself though. I thought it would be nice if I took care of you," you suggest, moving over to his arms.

You feel every vein in his forearms and how his biceps are just natural big and muscular. Aizen huffs quietly, a chuckle hidden underneath his huff.

Aizen gazes at you, love filling his eyes. He never thought he could love someone like this nor did he think someone could ever care this much about him.

He hates to admit it, but it tugs on his heartstrings.

He grabs onto your arm and pulls you into his chest. Your back is pressed up against his chest and his arms are wrapped tightly around you.

"What's going on?" you ask, chuckling as he squeezes you tightly.

"Nothing just...thank you," he whispers into your ear, placing a sweet kiss behind your ear. You smile warmly, leaning back into Aizen's gentle touch.

Aizen holds you tightly, the most precious thing in the whole universe to him.

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: can you do one where their sister gets all wigged out at some guy being creepy and handsy with her at the bar and she freezes and doesn’t fight back and then it’s haunting her how she was just frozen and she makes either Sam and Dean fight her so she can be ready next time but it just sends her into a panic.

A/N: This was a really great request. I hope I wrote it the way you were wanting! Requests are always open. Also I would really appreciate feedback so it helps me with writing my other stories! Thanks everyone:)))

Warnings: Sexual harassment/Assault

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

The night was supposed to be a moment of relief, a fleeting break from the weight of your life as a hunter. After a brutal week of long hunts and narrow escapes, the three of you—Sam, Dean, and you—found yourselves at a dimly lit bar in a sleepy town, trying to enjoy a rare moment of normalcy. You were laughing, joking, letting the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversations drown out the fear that usually hovered in the back of your mind.

But then he showed up.

It started subtly. The man—slightly older, disheveled, his eyes too glazed with alcohol—leaned in a little too close. His words were slurred, his breath rank with whiskey. You smiled politely, leaning away as he stood just a little too near, but you didn’t think much of it at first. You were used to the occasional awkward encounter. But then, as you stood to move past him, his hand brushed against the small of your back.

It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate.

You froze.

His hand lingered for just a moment too long, then slid down a fraction, pressing lightly against your hip. Your body went stiff, the shock of it paralyzing you. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to tell him to back off, but the words got stuck in your throat. The touch felt too foreign, too invasive. The very presence of him, towering too close behind you, crushed you in a way no monster ever had. It wasn’t the instinctive survival response you had when facing down a creature or a supernatural threat. This was something else entirely. This was vulnerability. This was a reminder that sometimes, even the strongest hunters could be caught off guard. You were cornered by something that wasn’t a demon, wasn’t a creature of the night. It was just a man. A man who was now way too close, his hands way too forward, and you couldn’t breathe.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the creep murmured, his voice smooth but predatory. He took another step forward, his fingers tracing even lower on you. “You look like you need some company. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

Alone.

Your chest tightened at the word. Your heart raced, each beat harder than the last, and your body went cold. You couldn’t get away. You wanted to scream, to shout, to fight, but nothing came. You couldn’t even turn around. It was like your body had betrayed you, locking you in place, unable to move, unable to react.

You glanced over his shoulder. Sam and Dean were across the bar, still chatting, but your hands were trembling now, a quiet desperation crawling through you. You tried to make eye contact with Dean, praying he’d see something in your eyes. Something that would tell him something was wrong, something that wasn’t right, something that would make him come over here.

And that’s when it happened.

Your eyes found Dean’s, and everything else fell away. He was laughing, his face lit with that same infectious grin, but when his gaze locked with yours, that smile faltered. The laughter died in his throat. For a split second, his eyes darted from your frozen form back to the hand that was somewhere it shouldn’t have been, violating you. There was no mistaking the look in your eyes—the silent scream for help that you couldn’t make with your voice.

Dean’s body tensed instantly, his protective instincts kicking in faster than you could blink. He didn’t even need a second to process what was happening. His eyes turned hard, darkening with a familiar, dangerous intensity.

“What the fuck.” He growled.

Sam’s head snapped up at the sound of Dean’s voice, his posture shifting into a protective stance as he looked over toward you and then Dean was already halfway there.

Before you could even comprehend the sudden rush of movement, Dean was there, a force of nature, his hand wrapping around the man’s collar and yanking him away from you. He slammed the guy back into a nearby table with a resounding crash, his fist connecting with the guy’s jaw with a force that sent him stumbling.

The man grunted, disoriented, but before he could recover, Sam was already next to you, his arms strong and warm as he ushered you away from the scene. His eyes were filled with concern, but there was no time to ask questions, no time to process what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked softly, but there was a subtle edge of panic in his voice as he scanned your face.

You couldn’t answer him. The words were stuck. Your breath came in shallow, gasping bursts as the overwhelming weight of what had just happened hit you. You had been so helpless. The shame twisted in your gut, mixing with the adrenaline that still had your heart hammering in your chest.

Dean stepped back towards the both of you, wiping his knuckles, his expression tight. He looked at you for a long moment before kneeling down to your level. “Y/N,” he said gently, his voice low but fierce. “Are you hurt?”

It took a few seconds for you to even gather the strength to speak, but when you did, your voice was barely a whisper. “I... I couldn’t... I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop him. I froze.”

The words came out in a choked sob, and Sam’s hand squeezed your shoulder, trying to ground you, trying to make you feel safe again. But the truth was, you didn’t feel safe. You felt exposed, humiliated, and terrified. You had spent your whole life fighting supernatural monsters—things that would rip you apart if you gave them half a chance—but this? This was something else.

Dean stood, looking at the man on the floor with a growl.

“I’ll fucking kill you! You son of a bitch!” As he lunged forward, Sam caught his arm, stopping him.

“We need to get her out of here, Dean. She’s shaking—she’s in shock,” Sam said, his voice strained. His gaze shifted to you, and his heart clenched at the fear written across your face. Dean’s eyes softened, the anger fading as he took in your terrified expression, replaced by an overwhelming concern. He nodded, his protective instincts kicking in.

Without another word, they moved toward you, both intent on getting you out of harm's way.

“You’re safe, Y/N. You hear me?” He said firmly. “We’ve got you. We’ve always got you.”

But you couldn’t shake it. The helplessness. The terror of being caught off guard like that, unable to move, to react, to protect yourself when you needed it most. The fear didn’t fade just because your brothers saved you. It stayed with you, lurking in the background, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

As you left the bar with Sam and Dean, you felt the weight of that fear creeping in with every step. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from swirling around in your head. What if it happens again? What if you froze again, what if next time no one was there to stop it?

The drive back to the bunker was silent, the tension thick. You sat in the backseat, staring out the window, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside you. Sam kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, but you didn’t want to talk. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Dean was silent too, his hands gripping the wheel a little too tight, his jaw clenched as he focused on the road. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he was just as shaken as you were. He had seen that fear in your eyes. The one that had screamed for help but couldn’t get a single sound to come out.

When you got back to the bunker, you immediately went to your room, not wanting to face them, not wanting to face yourself. You needed time. Time to process everything. Time to breathe.

But the panic was still there, gnawing at you, even as the adrenaline wore off. You kept seeing his face, kept feeling his hand on you, the touch that made you feel trapped.

And for the next few days the memory of being completely frozen in the face of danger haunted you like a persistent shadow. You had faced monsters—ghouls, wraiths, creatures from hell, demons straight from the deepest pits. You'd been through hell and back, each time emerging battered but standing. But this—this was different. A man’s touch—unwanted, invasive—had completely paralyzed you. You’d never felt so small, so helpless, as you did in those seconds. The touch that made your skin crawl, the pressure of him moving closer, it had sent you into a panic you couldn’t escape from. You could have fought him, could have defended yourself—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your body refused to move, frozen in terror as if your instincts had completely betrayed you.

That wasn’t you. That wasn’t who you were, and the thought of it gnawed at you constantly, dragging you into a spiral of frustration. How could you have been so weak? How could you have faced hellish creatures but not some creep? Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel the man’s hands on you, the fear that shut you down completely. It ate away at you, an itch under your skin you couldn’t scratch. You needed to fix it, needed to make sure it never happened again.

The bunker was eerily quiet when you stumbled into the library. The faint smell of old books and polished wood filled your nose, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the searing anxiety still clawing at your chest. You turned the corner to find that Sam and Dean were seated at the large table, hunched over a case file.

They didn’t need to see your face to know something was wrong. The way you walked—shoulders hunched, head down, eyes wild—spoke volumes before you even opened your mouth.

Dean’s eyes immediately snapped to you, his expression faltering as he registered the distress in your posture. “Hey, you okay?” His voice was softer than usual, concerned, but it didn’t quite reach the depth of panic you could feel in his gaze.

Sam’s brows furrowed in concern, and he stood up from his seat, eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your insides twist.

“Hey,” Sam said gently, walking toward you. “What’s going on?”

Your throat closed, the words struggling to form as the weight of everything that had happened at the bar came crashing back. The sensation of the creep’s hand on you, the way your body had refused to move, the helplessness, the terror—it felt like a cloud, dark and suffocating.

“I need one of you to fight me,” you choked out, your voice shaking with desperation. The words felt wrong as they left your lips, like something deep inside you was rebelling against them, but you couldn’t stop it.

Both of your brothers froze.

Dean’s face darkened with concern, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, fight you?” He asked, voice careful, as though he were testing the waters, trying to understand if you were truly asking what he thought you were asking.

“I need one of you to wrestle me. To fight me,” you repeated, your words now coming out more urgently. “I have to know that I won’t freeze again. I need to be able to fight. I need to know I can protect myself.”

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, his brow furrowed in concern, the air between them thick with hesitation and concern. Sam opened his mouth as if to protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything.

“I have to do this, okay? You don’t understand, I can’t freeze like that again. I need to see if I can fight someone off when I’m vulnerable, like that creep at the bar. Please…” Your voice broke, desperation seeping through the cracks, and you took a step closer to them, your eyes wide, pleading.

“Y/N…” Sam’s voice was soft but steady, the concern in his eyes clear. “This isn’t the way, okay? We know you’re strong, but—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head violently. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand how I felt, how frozen I felt. I couldn’t do anything. I can’t just let that happen again. Please.” Your voice cracked, and you could feel your whole body trembling, but you pushed through it, forcing yourself to stay steady, to make them understand. “One of you has to do this. I need to know I’m not just… helpless. Please.”

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. He was visibly uncomfortable with the idea. The last thing he wanted was to physically overpower you, especially after what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“Y/N, you’re not helpless. You’re strong, you’re so strong.” Dean said gently, though the words sounded strained. “You’ve been through hell and back, you’ve taken down monsters, demons, things worse than this. You’ve survived everything that’s come your way, okay? This doesn’t—this isn’t something you need to prove.”

Sam nodded, stepping closer and placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Dean’s right. We know what you’re capable of. This, uh, this isn’t the way to work through it.”

But you couldn’t hear them. The terror, the shame, the panic all mixed together until it overwhelmed every thought in your head. You couldn’t keep sitting in this fear, this paralyzing uncertainty. You needed to do something.

“I need this,” you begged, voice raw and trembling. “Please. One of you has to fight me, so I know I can fight someone off. I have to know I won’t freeze again. Dean…Please”

Dean looked at Sam, then back at you. His discomfort was clear—this wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do, especially after what you’d just been through. He was much bigger than you, stronger, and he wasn’t sure how that was going to go. The thought of seeing you trapped under him, unable to escape, unsettled him. But the look in your eyes, the quiet desperation behind your words, broke him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Dean sighed deeply. “Alright,” he agreed, softly. “But we do this my way. We don’t go too hard, and we don’t go too far, okay? This is for you to work through your fear, not for you to end up more scared.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay. But please, Dean. Do it like a real fight. I need it to feel real.”

Dean hesitated, looking down at his hands, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of pinning you down after everything that had just happened. Sam stood off to the side, his expression one of concern mixed with reluctant understanding, knowing that you needed this—however uncomfortable it was for all of you.

“Alright,” Sam said softly. “Stay focused. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to gather the pieces of your resolve that had been shattered at the bar.

Dean stepped forward, positioning himself in front of you, his posture tense. You squared off with him, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest, the knot of dread in your stomach.

“Ready?” Dean asked, his voice softer now, like he was trying to give you the chance to back out.

“I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like he wasn’t going to go through with it. But then, seeing the intense look in your eyes—the look of a person who had to prove to themselves that they were still capable of protecting themselves—he nodded.

Without warning, Dean lunged at you.

You dodged, twisting your body to the side, but his hands were faster, stronger. He grabbed you by the wrists, pulling you into his chest with surprising force. You twisted and kicked, struggling, but Dean’s grip was unrelenting. And for a moment, you thought maybe you could break free. You kicked him, punched at his arm, wriggled with every ounce of strength you had. But Dean’s grip only tightened, and in a matter of seconds, he had you pinned to the floor. His body was heavy on top of yours, holding you down firmly but not aggressively—yet the weight of him was overwhelming.

And that’s when the panic hit.

“You have to use your weight, shift your body. Get out of this.” Dean said.

You tried to twist again, but the force of his body was like a mountain against yours. You could feel your legs being pushed down as he shifted to get a better hold on you. Your breathing quickened. No, don’t panic. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

Dean’s arms wrapped around you as he twisted you into a pin. You fought, squirmed, your mind spinning. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. He wasn’t even using all his strength, but it didn’t matter. The panic started to crawl up your throat.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Sam’s voice came gently from the sidelines. “You can do this. Focus. Use your legs. Use your hips.”

But you couldn’t focus. Your chest constricted, the panic spiraling as you felt the weight of Dean pinning you down. It wasn’t just him—it was the feeling of being trapped, of being unable to move.

“I can’t—” you gasped.

Dean’s grip loosened slightly, his voice softened. “Y/N, you’re alright. You’re safe. Focus on your breathing. Breathe through it, okay?”

But it was hard to breathe. You could feel the walls of your panic closing in. You were stuck. You couldn’t move. Your mind was racing back to that moment in the bar, when you couldn’t do anything. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze. Don’t freeze.

“I can’t—I can’t get out,” you whispered, “I can’t move… I can’t…”

“Hey,” Dean said softly, his voice more comforting now. You couldn’t breathe. The air felt thick, suffocating, and your heart raced uncontrollably in your chest. The cold, sharp terror of being trapped—the same terror you felt in the bar—came rushing back with a vengeance. He saw the terror in your eyes, he saw the panic in your body language, but he knew you were determined to fight through it. “You’re not trapped. It’s just a hold. Do you need me to stop?”

“I…I can’t,” you gasped, your voice full of panic. You slapped at his chest, tried to push him off, but you couldn’t move. You were completely stuck.

“Breathe, Y/N. You’re okay. You’re alright,” Dean said, his voice steady, but you could hear the concern in his tone. He eased his grip on you slightly, but it didn’t matter. You were trapped. You couldn’t move. The air felt so thin.

Your body shook with terror, panic flooding your chest as you twisted and turned, desperately trying to escape. Your limbs felt heavy, useless, and your breaths were coming too fast—too shallow.

“No!” you gasped. “I—I can’t!”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Sam said, his voice calm and steady from his spot off to the side. “Breathe in through your nose. Slowly. In and out. Don’t focus on the panic.”

You tried to listen, but the fear was too much. You couldn’t stop the rising tide of panic, couldn’t stop the feeling of helplessness as Dean’s weight pinned you down. The fear that you couldn’t fight him off… What if I can’t fight anyone off? What if it happens again?

You slapped at his chest again, frantically, tears starting to fall, your breath coming in sobs.

“I… I can’t… No!” You couldn’t catch your breath. You couldn’t stop the terror from consuming you.

Sam was already there, stepping in, his voice calm but urgent. “Dean, stop. She’s panicking. Stop.”

“Please, get off me!" Your voice was raw, frantic, and it tore at Dean’s heart. The sheer panic in your eyes hit him like a freight train, and he immediately pulled back, though his face softened with deep concern. He saw the terror in you, felt it in the way you trembled.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, his voice low and tight with emotion. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” His hands hovered, trembling slightly as he met your gaze, silently pleading with you to trust him. “I’m letting go now, okay?”

Slowly, cautiously, Dean released his grip, watching you closely as he allowed you to sit up. His heart ached when you didn’t immediately move, still shaking uncontrollably, your body stiff with fear. You looked fragile, like you might break at any moment, and it made his chest tighten.

Without thinking, you reached out, gripping his arm with desperate hands, as if the world around you had collapsed and he was the only thing holding you together. Your fingers trembled against his skin, and he could feel the pulse of your fear coursing through your touch.

“Hey, hey… You’re safe,” Dean said softly, but his voice was thick with emotion, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw the tears brimming in your eyes, the overwhelming sorrow breaking free.

The words came like a vow, but his arms moved before his mind could even process it. He pulled you gently against his chest, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace, as if he could shield you from the world and all the horrors it had thrown your way. Your sobs tore through the air, ragged and broken, and Dean’s chest tightened, his own breath unsteady with the intensity of your grief.

“Shhh…” he whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, his voice soft but unwavering. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hand running through your hair in slow, soothing strokes. Every sob you let out shattered his heart a little more, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. He only held you tighter, murmuring quietly in between each tearful breath of yours, “You’re safe. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. I’m here. I’m right here.”

“I couldn’t stop you," you whispered, voice trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. "I…I couldn’t f—fight you off. What if… what if that happens again? What if I c—can’t protect myself when I n—need to?" You sobbed.

Dean’s heart clenched at the sound of your voice, filled with self-doubt and anguish.

Before he could speak, Sam’s voice broke through, warm and steady, as he knelt in front of you. His hands, strong but gentle, settled on your arm. "Hey," he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours, "You’ve always got something with you—your gun, your knife. And even if you don’t have anything... if you’re caught off guard, if you don’t have anything on you—we’ve got you. You’re never alone in this, Y/N."

The words felt like they should have been a comfort, but the fear still gnawed at you, and it didn’t feel like enough. Not yet.

Dean’s hand continued to move in those small circles on your back, his touch warm, grounding. His voice was quiet but fierce, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “We’re not gonna let anything happen to you," he murmured. "We’ll always be here for you, no matter what. We’ll train you, we’ll help you work through it. You’re not alone, Y/N. You hear me?”

You nodded, unable to speak, the tears continuing to fall as the weight of everything washed over you. The feeling of being broken, of being utterly helpless, still lingered—but hearing them, seeing the sincerity in their eyes, made something inside you crack open, just a little bit.

The sobs that had been building broke free again, more violent now, but with them came a fragile comfort, something you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in what felt like forever. Dean didn’t hesitate. Without another word, he pulled you tighter into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you sobbed into him.

He held you with a quiet intensity, his warmth enveloping you, his steady heartbeat grounding you. Sam sat beside you, his presence a silent reassurance that they were there. Together, they were there.

“You’ll be okay,” Sam said again, his voice a soft promise. “We’re gonna help you get through this.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “You’re strong, kid. You’re gonna get through this. But for right now, you’re safe. You hear me? Safe.”

You nodded again, the fear still present, but somehow, just a little less suffocating. Maybe, just maybe, knowing they were there, that you didn’t have to face this on your own, was enough for now. Enough to let the weight of the world rest, even if just for a moment.

[thewitchblue]

"What's that?"

You asked Terry one day. He fell asleep during art class, and you wanted to know what he was drawing. He startled awake when you placed a timid hand on his arm.

Terry blinked at you, bleary-eyed before looking back down at his novel. He moves his arms to guard it more from your gaze once your words are registered in his exhausted brain. He awkwardly said,

"My, uh... it's probably stupid. I'm making a graphic novel."

He was oddly protective of his work, but your kind smile and curious gaze made him feel like he could trust you. You looked so warm and open to either seeing his work or walking away if he said no. There was something special in the look you gave him. It was a benevolent gaze that welcomed him in when everyone else shoved him away.

With great hesitation, he slides the chapter he was working on for you to read. He tapped his pen on his desk nervously. He suddenly felt empty-handed and vulnerable.

He was anxiously watching your expression as you read his work. He's never... shown off his work before. He always felt like it was lame to continue a project he's been working on on-and-off for years. He's never had a desire to share his novel. It was still in the works and had a long way to go.

He felt himself physically relax when you gave him back his novel. He felt as if he had just opened his heart to you and prayed you didn't stab it. This project has years' worth of thoughts and ideas. He had question marks and scribbled ideas in every corner of every page he has worked on so far.

Every time he had an idea of the direction he wanted to take the novel in, it was scribbled down along the sides or in the corners of the pages in his scratchy handwriting. It felt childish to look at now that he really took a look. He cringed and immediately tucked it away into the folder he had it placed in.

"I'm impressed, Terry. You'll have to send me a copy when you release it."

Your kind words made a part of him melt. It gave him the courage to continue. He bit his lip as his eyes returned back to his novel. It was still a series of loose sketches and not anywhere close to finished, but he appreciated the kind words.

You always were the kind kid with a soft voice and gentle hands. Your encouragement stirred something in him. He couldn't believe nobody has dated you yet. He's kept tabs on you for as long as he's known you. You with the gentle smile and the heart of gold. You, who never has a bad thing to say about anyone. You, who loved your friends and family with your entire heart and soul.

Before you could walk away, he awkwardly took your hand to stop you. Now that he thought about it, this was probably a terrible idea.

"I, uh, I... would you like to go out some time?"

He felt awkward. He can bully the Joker into submission, but a beautiful pair of doe eyes has him buckling? He feels pathetic, truly, with how nervous he felt, but he always had a thing for you that he never knew how to explain.

You looked surprised. Terry isn't known for relationships, especially not serious ones that you were seeking. Your eyes softened, however, as you looked at your conjoined hands before turning back to face Terry.

He's normally the bad kid; the kid teachers hate and the class legend, full of sass and always ready to pick a fight, but this Terry was... different. He wasn't guarded. He seemed so shy under all the sassy armour. He was adorable as he carefully watched your expression for any hint of what you may be thinking about.

You lightly squeezed his hand and smiled warmly at Terry. His blue eyes looked at you with such raw emotion that there was only one decision.

"Yes. You can tell me more about your novel, McGinnis."

You scribble a time and location for the date onto a slip of paper and hand it to him with a sweet smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty boy."

He looked like he suddenly realised he managed to get a date with you, and he was a blushing mess. You kissed his cheek before walking off. This may be the start of something more beautiful than he could ever hope for.

Bruce is going to kill him, but he feels truly content in the moment.

[echoingbirdsofprey]

Delicate (Jake's Version)

Ch 29 - Hold, That Position

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OFC Samanthan Kazansky

Rating: EXPLICIT (MDNI! SERIOUSLY LOL)

Warnings: LITERALLY ITS JUST SMUT. Blowjob, unprotected!piv, praise kink, Jake absolutely losing his mind like the feral king Sam wants him to be

A/N: It's...it's literally just smut. LOL. Likes, comments, reblogs, I appreciate every single frigging one and it makes me want to bring you absolutely filthy chapters like this one hahaha. Pic form Pinterest, gif by @kaizsche

If Code Red was the foreplay, this version is the full deal.

Tags: @mrsevans90 @djs8891 @gpsmississippihippie @barnesboo1967 @dizzybee03 @coloraturadiva @kmc1989 @khouse712 @kaleysbookshelf @crossfandomskylines

“Take it. Take all of me, Sam, please.”

She couldn’t stop thinking about his words. They were seared into her neurons, the huskiness in his voice playing over and over in the back of her mind on a fucking loop. He didn’t just mean his body. He meant his mind and his soul too. She asked for this side of Jake, and she knew there was still some parts, that he’d repressed, deep down, that were still fucked up, but she could take it. 

Vulnerability. Not a quality that a naval aviator with two confirmed air to air kills wanted on display. But a quality that he wanted to show his fiance. And not only with her. The battered iron armor over his heart was beginning to melt. He was trying.

They had arrived at the Route 66 Auto Museum in New Mexico on a day that they were unfortunately not open. “Do you want to stick around until tomorrow and go then?” Jake asked, parking. They decided they would get out to stretch their legs and let the dogs do the same.

“No, it's okay. We can see it another time. Maybe bring...kids.” Sam suggested, adjusting in the passenger side seat. She glanced back at the dogs then, then back to Jake.

“Sam...” Jake's voice carried a warning, a knowing one, a pleading one, asking her to stop torturing herself.

“I know...I know. I'm just saying. It'd be a good thing to do. Maybe we can steal Jaycen when he's a little older.” She admits.

They stopped for dinner at a small Mexican place on the main street as they passed through. Their driving hours became extended and they decided to go for a while longer, to the hotel near their next stop. They swap places, and Sam drove the rest of the way so that Jake could sleep. He was thankful for her wanting to and they stopped twice along the way to get food for themselves, feed the dogs, again, stretch and take a bathroom break or two.

Jake had underestimated how tiring it would really be to drive but the truck was comfortable and when they finally made it to the hotel, everyone was happy for a bed. Again, Jake had gotten a single bed and there was no couch so they pulled the dogs beds in from the backseat for them to lay on. They set them up in the corner of the room and all three dogs got comfortable immediately. 

“I'm gonna take a shower.” Jake murmured, pulling his shirt off. His tags jingled as he pushed his jeans down his hips and bent down to pull them from around his ankles. He threw his clothes in a pile on the floor and then removed his boxer briefs. As they were pushed past his hips, Sam salivated at the sight of his cock, free from its confines, hanging neatly between his legs. Hungman is more like it haha, she thought, then met his eyes.

“Babygirl, I know you want me, you don't have to stare. You can just come and take what you need .” His voice was husky and low as he straightened up. Heat pooled at her core and her eyes were drawn to his, the sage green burning with desire. 

“You’re tired.” Sam said softly, as she took a single step toward him. She glanced over at the dogs, who were all out cold. 

“Yeah, less thinking happens when I’m tired.” Jake’s fingers twitched at his sides. He shivered slightly, the air in the room hitting his bare skin and sending a wave of goosebumps over his midsection and extremities. 

“What are you thinking about?” Sam closed the distance between them and Jake glanced down to her still clothed form. He brought his hands up, placing them at her hips, his thumbs rubbing over the soft padding over the bones. 

“Nothing that I want to be thinking about.” He murmured, his hands traveling up her sides, across her breasts. He pressed his thumbs over where her nipples would be and blinked slowly. Sam watched a sly smile crept across his lips, his gaze then settling upon hers. Half lidded green met mahogany brown, fire crossing the line of sight between them.

“Tell me?” She pleaded tenderly, hesitantly placing her hands on his taut abs. He gasped sharply, the warmth of her fingers surprising on his cooled skin. Jake’s eyes lowered as his fingers tugged the straps of her dress down her shoulders. 

“I don’t wanna think about it.” He whispered, casually pulling the dress down over her breasts, unhooking the clasp of her bra, guiding it all off her body and onto the floor. Everything fell to the floor with a soft thud. 

“I’m not asking you to think about it. I’m asking you to...”

“Let you in. I know. I’m...just...give me a minute.” There was a rasp to his voice, an edge like a razor, cutting through the quiet and slow intake of breath between them. His eyes flicked down to her exposed breasts, one hand ghosting over her middle to cup one and run his thumb over the nipple. The rush of heat throughout Sam’s body, the flush and rosy color in her cheeks when he touched her was something Jake absolutely adored. 

Sam leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then let her mouth travel down to the bump across his collarbone. The callus that had formed over the broken part was still there and it would eventually shrink, but there was a stark contrast between the left and right sides for now. She kissed it and he winced. It didn’t hurt anymore but the memory of pain was still prevalent. She gave his tags a short tug, her gaze flicked to them. 

“Jacob Alexander Seresin.” He sighed heavily, the whisper of his full name sending a spark through his loins, as Samantha’s hands trailed outward to the carefully sculpted and lean muscles of his obliques and then down, across his Adonis belt. She raised a brow and then sank to her knees.

Jake’s hands followed her, landing on her shoulders. He gathered her wavy brown locks and pulled it all into a fist. His growing erection ached, and he longed for her to give him relief. 

“Tell me.” She commanded in the most gentle way possible, but as her beautiful fingers, her nails an emerald green, wrapped around his length for the first time that evening, he could only think of how much he wanted to obey. Of how badly he wanted to please her. She pressed her lips to the tip of his cock as she had the other night, but this was different. In front of him, on her knees, she was sure of herself. “What’s bothering you, handsome?”

“Fuck, Samantha. You look so good like this. God grant me some fuckin’ strength .” Jake’s tone was husky, his breathing already ragged, and she’d barely even touched him. 

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” She said, licking a line on the underside of his cock, base to pretty, perfect, tip. He groaned in frustration.

“I...fuck...I....got upset when you...earlier...when you mentioned...”

“Kids...I know. I’m sorry.” Her apology split him in two. It was gentle and she took him in her mouth for a moment as her eyes flicked up to his.

“I forgive you.” He moaned. She hummed around him and then placed her wrapped hand closer to the base. She let his cock fall from her mouth then, asking him again. “What else?”

“Just...keep thinking about...capture.” He rasped, his other hand around the back of her neck. 

“What about it?”

“How I wasn’t...wasn’t in...control...can’t...I can’t not...” He stuttered, stumbling over every word and thought as her lips met his hot and throbbing skin again. 

“Yes you can. Let go and let me have you. I won’t hurt you, Jake.” She said, giving him a reassuring squeeze at the point of his hip. 

“Can’t...lose...control.” Jake’s firm tone said one thing, but the unsteadiness with which his words left his lips said otherwise. He could lose it all to her. 

“I’ve got you. All of you, remember? Even the fucked up parts.” She took him fully in her mouth then, evening out her breathing, as his cock nearly touched the back of her throat. Jake couldn’t help how his grip on her tightened. He couldn’t help his hips as they moved, thrusting into her mouth, causing her to draw back, nearly choking on him. Suddenly, his composure snapped back into place, his eyes darting to her. She dug her nails into his hip, eyes closed. He was about to ask her if she was okay when she inhaled sharply through her nose and took him deeper into her mouth again. He threw his head back and cursed, the feeling of her hot mouth wrapped around him almost too much. He reached down, placing his fingers just under her throat, helping her relax it, his thumb caressing her jaw as her cheeks hollowed and she sucked hard. 

“ Good. Fucking. Girl .” He groaned, pressing his thumb into her skin as he felt his resolve fizzle out. He couldn’t help the sounds he made as he pumped his load down her throat. He couldn’t help the emotions that bubbled to the surface as he glanced down, seeing tears streaming down her cheeks as she took everything he gave her. He couldn’t help the pull he had on her hair, when her nails scraped his skin, and they both stilled. As his cock softened, and she let him drop from her mouth, she kissed the tip once more and then rose to her feet. Jake reached up and wiped the tears. “Too good, Sam...you’re too good to do that to yourself for me.”

“I wanted it. I want something else too.” She said, taking his hand. She guided him to the bed, and he crawled over the top of her, his tags jingling as he went. She spread her legs of her own accord,a d hooked them around his waist. His gaze was tired on her, and he took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. Her fingers traced lines over the vasculature on his arms as they headed toward his neck. At the base, she tangled her fingers in his short hair, pricking his skin with her nails. His cock twitched, blood flow returning rapidly as his arousal picked up again. It wasn’t hard to get him going. Sam did it well, and she knew exactly what got him there. He pressed his hips toward her, rubbing his half-hard cock against her wetness. Wet...was an understatement. She was dripping. 

“So ready for me.” He mused, a smirk crossing his lips as he began to assault her neck with his lips. She was dangling on the edge of her pleasure already and she could tip over it at any moment with Jake above her. He continued grinding against her, cock returning to its full glory in mere minutes. 

“I’m always ready for you, Jake. I’ve always been. I’ve just been waiting for you.” She said, and her double entendre had Jake brimming with emotions that he couldn't quite place. She said it as if she’d been waiting her entire life for him, and maybe she had. Maybe he had been waiting for her too. 

He was at full mast again, length hard and heavy against her stomach as he kissed across her collarbone. Her lips brushed against his cheek as his met her shoulder. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs flicking across her nipples and sending a shiver through her. He took himself in hand, thrusting into her hard. Jake could never quite get over the feeling of her wrapped around him, squeezing him. As he stretched her, Sam moaned his name, the sound heavenly to his ears. 

She pulled him close then and whispered in his ear, “Fuck me, Jake, please. Don’t you dare hold back.”

His knees locked her in on both sides, his hands on either side of her head, and he went to work. He didn’t bother starting slow. She didn’t want that. She wanted the unhinged fucking animal that she knew was in Jake. She wanted him in the state of mind that he’d been in when he was captured. When all he could think of was her. Wanting to get back home to her. She wanted him to let go. 

“Hold. On. To. Me. Seriously.” He growled, causing Sam to intertwine her fingers at the back of his neck. The only sound in the room then was the loud slap of skin on skin, and Jake knew they would both be sore tomorrow. He rutted into her, absolutely fucking railed her, his groans loud as he hit the deepest parts of her with every single thrust. At the first thrust she felt pain shoot through her core, at the second she disconnected her fingers, and by the third, her nails were piercing the skin of his back, leaving deep scratches, valleys that marked him as hers and hers alone. She raked them across the strong musculature as he rammed his hips into hers. Jake felt her walls clench over and over and the sensation ripped a strangled howl of pleasure from him so loud that it alone sent Sam careening over the edge of her orgasm as well. She whimpered his name over and over, whining as her walls pulsed around him, eventually dissolving into wordless echoes of his name. 

Jake’s body drained of every feeling, every emotion, every bit of tension as he emptied his load into Sam, settling his body over hers. His breathing was uneven, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his neck and shaking pectorals. Sam at some point had lost her grip with the beads of sweat that had formed on his skin and her hands had fallen to the sheets, gripping them for dear life, when Jake’s thrusts became sloppy. 

They stayed there for a few moments, before Jake was backing away, and pulling her toward the shower. He turned the water on and guided her under the hot stream, the temperature soothing and smoothing out the last bits of tension in both hers and Jake’s bodies. He wasn’t done though.

“You wanted this.” He purred, his breath hot near her ear. He nipped at the shell then kneed her legs apart as he pressed her against the cool tile. He bit down on her shoulder as he thrust up into her. She hadn;t even realized he was hard again until then, until he was in her space, invading her air, caging her in with his strong musk. 

“I know. I want you. I want it, Jake. Please, keep going. Keep fucking me. Fucking stay inside me forever. Fuck me forever, oh my god.” Her words fueled him, as he left teeth marks on her shoulder, hickeys on her neck, and reddened skin on her ass as he pulled out and flipped her around, smacking her bottom as he pushed himself inside her from behind. He gathered her hands above her head, against the wall, keeping them joined at the wrists. His other hand was firmly around her middle, steadying her, making sure she couldn’t move. Making sure that he could just fill her over and over and she couldn’t escape, and she’d never want to anyway. 

“Jake, Jake, Jake!” She saw stars, as another orgasm washed over her. It had been there, creeping up behind her and pushing her over the edge without her even realizing it. Jake was not far behind, his balls drawing up tight, cock pumping, painting her inner walls again. Jake was absolutely spent, exhausted, as his length fell from her. His thighs were shaking, his body trembling behind her. Sam’s was damn near the same, tension gone. Everything in their bodies was dull, ache-less, and relaxed as she turned to him. 

Jake’s lips met Sam’s in the most gentle touch, more than a brush of the lips, but less than a full kiss. Jake recoiled slightly to examine his fiance, and what he saw was stunning. His girl, his woman, fucked out, and filled to the brim, with happiness. Her smile was wide, lids lowered, breath easy. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her, feeling the devotion pass between them. 

“Now you know.” Sam whispered, barely audible over the water running. Jake’s brow furrowed.

“Know what?” He asked, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones. Her fingers had met his chest, toying with the sparse golden hair there. 

“That you can let go. You can lose control and I will still be okay.” She said softly, closing the distance between them once more. 

“Are you okay? Was I too...?” His voice was unsteady as his hands connected with her waist. She leaned into him, against his chest and sighed deeply. Her words came out reassuringly, putting him at ease.

“I'm fine, Jake. You didn't hurt me. I like knowing that you can go there with me. I trust you.” 

“And I trust you...to take over...when I can give up control. It’s not often...but knowing that I can let go...really let go...it means more than you will ever know...and so much more than I will ever be able to express...” Jake closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Sam’s warm body curled into him, under the stream of hot water. They stayed there for a long while, soaking in each other’s quiet presence.

[thehighladywrites]

Beneath their smiles

ft. Rhysand

SUMMARY: You find out your friends used you for status, leaving you heartbroken. Rhysand is here for you<3

warnings: swearing, hurt, comfort,fluff, shitty friends, nice revenge.

A/N: Kind of a personal one for me, I used to have shitty friends like this so this was really satisfying to write😋

banners: @cafekitsune

There was nothing in the world that Rhys hated more than seeing you upset.

What could have possibly made his sweet darling this upset? You were sitting in his lap, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He had one hand supporting your back while the other was drawing soothing circles. You were crying your eyes out, hiccuping, not even managing to talk properly between sobs when he asked what had happened to you.

You sat there for hours, listening to him whisper calming words of love and support. Finally, you looked up to him and the sight broke his heart.

After your crying session, your eyes were bloodshot, puffy, and swollen. Dried tear streaks ran down your face, making you look utterly drained, vulnerable, and sad. His protective instincts upon seeing his mate in such a vulnerable state were going crazy. It made him start making plans to confront whatever or whoever had made his mate cry so much. But Rhysand didn’t push you to speak if you weren’t ready. He knew you’d tell them whenever you were.

You took a steadying breath and spilled everything that had happened before your eyes started to blur again.

"Rhysie, I had the most horrible day ever. My friends completely cut me off for no good reason. They all made secret plans to catch up, and I saw them in front of me, laughing and huddled together. I so so badly wanted to go up to them, but when I got closer, I overheard them say that they weren't going to include me in their plans. They also whispered that I was a burden to you, and that a low-born nobody like me was only useful when getting invited to balls and parties – that our friendship was just a charade for their own amusement. They'd pretended to be my friends, but in reality, I was nothing more than a pawn in their game of social climbing. So, it turns out they were never truly friends; they were just using me for access to the stupid parties they craved. I feel so foolish,Rhys. They always chattered about parties and festivals, but I thought they enjoyed my company. “

He kissed your temple and let you silently cry on his shoulder again. He masked any anger he had, because it wasn’t about his revenge now, it was about comforting you.

“Oh, my sweet darling, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You deserve real friends who appreciate you for who you are, not just for the parties you can provide. You’re such a kind and wonderful person, and this experience with those vermins doesn’t define your worth at all. We’ll get through this together, my love. I promise you’ll find new, genuine friends who will value you for the amazing person you are, and who will see your kind heart and genuine soul. Remember that I’m always here for you, and I love you so much, okay? If you want to, we can banish them.”

You give him a tired smile and let out a sigh of comfort at the feel of love he sends through the bond. He gives you a sweet, loving kiss as he carries you to bed, tucking you to lay with one arm on his chest as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck. He had an arm protectively slung around your waist, keeping you as close as possible.

” Thanks Rhysie, m’so happy to have you forever. I love you s’much. But that’s not necessary, I have something better in mind. “

“ Of course darling, I love you too, can’t wait to hear about this diabolical plan my baby has planned. “

You let out a genuine laugh, and he gives you a last kiss before he pulls you closer. He runs his hands through your hair, as he always does whenever you’re upset, lulling you to a comforting sleep.

- - -

The night was beautiful, millions of starts decorated the dark sky, and the music filled the air. You and Rhysand were hosting an exquisite starfall party in your home. It was a celebration that enhanced the beauty of Velaris. A perfect night for some payback.

As the guests were flown up to The House of Wind, elegant guests in shimmering attire began to mingle with eachother. Among them was all of your friends and family from other courts, like Helion, Kallias and Vivienne, Thesan, Tarquin and so many more joined to celebrate.

Suddenly, at the edge of the entrance, your oblivious friends huddled together ready to dance the night away. Their faces masked with false smiles and ill intentions. They attempted to join the festivities, whispering and snickering, oblivious to the icy glares they received from your inner circle who knew of their betrayal.

However, the sentries, loyal to Rhysand, stood firm. As your friends approached, the guards blocked their path, not allowing them a step further.

"Sorry, but you can't enter," Declan, one of the sentries declared, his voice carrying authority.

Your friends exchanged bewildered glances, their arrogance suddenly shattered by reality. They had always been invites to the High Lords party, what the hell was going on?

"What do you mean?" one of them demanded, her voice tinged with false innocence. "We were invited."

The sentry raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. " We have specific orders to not let you in. In fact if you don’t move, I’ll throw all of you in a holding cell for the night. Move along. ”

Seeing the High Lord's sentinel not wavering their stance, the mean friends grew flustered. They attempted to argue, to demand, to manipulate. But Velaris, under the rule of Rhysand, had no place for those who betrayed and used others for personal gain. Especially not his perfect mate. No, they weren’t ever going to hurt you again.

” I think there has been a mistake. Do you know how we are? We’re friends with the Lady of night, and we’re always invited. So let us speak to Y/N she’ll know who we are. ”

Tired of seeing their pathetic attempts, you drag Rhysand over to them to resolve the situation. But before you can say anything, Rhysand speaks up as he looks at them with disgust and wrath.

"Your actions towards my mate and your Lady are disgraceful. It's clear you've treated her with cruelty and deceit. You've shown a complete lack of respect and compassion. In my city, I value loyalty and kindness, qualities you so clearly lack. Know that I won't tolerate any more harm coming her way, because if any of harrass my mate again, I’ll see to it that it’s the last thing you do.

You’ve been asked to leave once, and you won’t be asked again. This is a night of celebration and unity, not a place for your pathetic attempt at deception. Your presence here is unwelcome, and I will not tolerate any disruption. It’s in your best interest to leave now, before Declan makes good on his word. ”

You look to him with a small smile and say into his mind,

” Thank you honey, I don’t know if I would’ve had the strenght to say all that. I love you so much. ”

” I love you too, but don’t thank me darling, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. ”

Defeated and stunned your now former friends were left with no choice but to retreat, their faces flushed with embarrassment and anger as they slinked away from the entrance, watched by the crowd.

Observing the whole scene you both couldn't help but smile as he tightened his hold on you. He had protected his mate and ensured that the party remained a celebration of true friendships, leaving no room for something other than that.

[dindjarindiaries]

Senator's Shadow - Chapter 4

summary: Tensions rise more than ever before as you, Sergeant Hunter, and the rest of Clone Force 99 take action.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x fem!reader

rating: mature (18+)

tags: bodyguard romance, forbidden love, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut

word count: 9.769k

chapter 3 ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ chapter 5

chapter 4 ⟹

You triple checked the fastening on your holster before you let out a soft sigh and moved the skirt of your dress to conceal it. There was an invisible burn on the skin of your thigh that had been left behind by another touch days ago, and it continued to remind you of its lovely ache even now. You had half a mind to let the holster unfasten itself again, but your rationality won that battle time and time again.

The room would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the dim lights illuminating the space of your suite. Your eyes found the chrono and you raised your brow at how early it was. At least it would still be the same person greeting you outside your doors.

You kept a comfortable shawl around your shoulders as you approached the doors and let them slide open. The sergeant tensed as he spun around to face you, a careful hand set over his holster before his helmet straightened in realization. He relaxed as his visor gave you a quick once-over.

“Senator.” Hunter’s tone failed to hide his concern, his voice sending a sweet shockwave of comfort through your tired body. “I thought I heard some movement in there.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “So much for trying to stay quiet.”

Hunter huffed, though the exhale was drawn out into a longer breath. “Having trouble sleeping again?”

You tightened your lips as your gaze fell from his visor. Your shoulders lifted in a small shrug before you answered. “Sleep just feels secondary to everything else at the moment.”

Hunter lifted his arms from his sides to remove his helmet. Your gaze found his own as his brown eyes, as vulnerable and observant as ever, sparkled at you. “I understand.”

The small smile that stretched across your lips was genuine. “I know.” The two of you stared at one another for much too long before you glanced at your room over your shoulder. “I’ve been working on the plans for tonight’s mission, if you want to get an early look.”

Hunter’s brow raised. “The perks of having the last watch, huh?” You laughed and shook your head, leading him inside the room. “If Tech hears about this…”

You shot him an amused look as the doors to your room closed behind him. “None of them will hear about this, unless you’ve been enjoying all their teasing these past few days.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “I wish I could say I wasn’t used to it.”

You had to force out a chuckle when the words struck you with an unexpected pang of jealousy. Did the sergeant often grow so close to those he served that he would be used to such teasing from his squad? You hushed your exhausted mind’s overthinking and focused on the holotable in front of you. “Here’s the village we’ll be protecting tonight.”

Hunter tightened his grasp on the helmet tucked underneath his arm as the other rested upon the edge of the holotable. “This is the one Tech identified?”

You nodded at him. “It’s pretty far from the capitol. We can make it on foot, but it could take a while.”

Hunter’s gaze slid over to you for a moment. You could have gasped at how handsome he looked with the blue light of the holo illuminating his face, highlighting the shadows around his chiseled face. “Shouldn’t be a problem for us.”

You turned to face the holomap again before you could get more flustered. “Great. We should leave before daylight’s completely gone. It’s more than likely they’ll attack right at nightfall.”

Hunter nodded in your periphery. “Echo’s been working on finding a good exit, unless you already had one in mind.”

You smiled. “I’d appreciate his insight on that. That’s the last piece we really need.”

Hunter took a deep breath, his jaw circling before he spoke. “I figure Wrecker and I will be teaming up out there to identify any explosives. I can sense most of them, and he could disarm them in his sleep.” You giggled at that. “We’ll have Crosshair positioned up high as the lookout.”

The sergeant’s eyes glazed over with worry as he paused in consideration.

“I’d prefer Tech to be monitoring comms somewhere near him. He said his ankle’s better, but I’m not convinced that it’s ready for all this action.” You couldn’t help smiling at the concern he showed for his squadmate. “Echo will be on foot ready to intercept them or cause a diversion. As for you, Senator…”

Hunter paused again, the corner of his mouth raising before he went on.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

You crossed your arms and returned his look. “I think it’s most sensible for me to pair up with Echo.”

“I’d say the same.” Hunter lifted an eyebrow. “But is that what you want to do?”

You hadn’t realized the sergeant could be this bold, especially so early in the morning—but the upcoming fight wasn’t the only storm that had been brewing ever since the welcome banquet. Your gaze remained in his as you responded. “What I want doesn’t matter. Only the safety of your squad and my people does.” You nodded before lowering your head. “That’s why we have to take the sensible approach.”

Hunter let out a soft chuckle. “My squad isn’t really used to the ‘sensible approach,’ Senator.” He took a step closer and reached his free hand towards you. The touch that had been haunting you for days found your chin, gently tilting your head back up so that your eyes met his again. You parted your lips in awe of him as he went on. “And trust me, you don’t have to sacrifice all your wants for your people’s needs.” He nodded. “You can still fulfill both.”

Your gaze searched his as you sat in the heavy silence. Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you broke it. “Are we still talking about the plan, Sergeant?”

Hunter gave you a once-over that could have made you melt if you weren’t so well-versed in composure. “If that’s what you want, Senator.”

An unprecedented warmth blazed over you from head-to-toe as you uncrossed your arms and stared at him. Your heart raced, the blood pounding in your ears, as you slowly drew closer to him out of instinct. He didn’t move, instead letting you be the one in control of the situation. It only made you want him more.

But your nose couldn’t even brush his before your gaze fell to the hand of his that still held your chin. You lifted your hands to gently wrap around his wrist, lowering his hand and holding it politely between both of yours. With a deep breath, you spoke in a quiet yet honest voice. “What I want is to continue protecting those I care about.”

The hand on top of his gave it a small pat as you gained the faith to meet his gaze again. It was hard to read the emotions you found there, but there was an undeniable sparkle that hadn’t been there before. He had understood everything about you up to that point, and you needed him to continue doing so.

“I need that above all else.”

And there it was, the usual furrow in his brow that proved he was somehow inside your mind, understanding each motivation behind whatever you did. There we no doubt he saw it, too, the truth of what would happen if this storm broke. Any path that could potentially lead him to desertion wasn’t one you were willing to take, not with the danger that would pose to him—and his squad.

Hunter nodded as dutifully as ever. “I understand.” The lack of disappointment in his voice, exchanged for fondness, made the pill much easier to swallow.

You managed a smile for him. “Of course you do.”

Hunter returned your smile with a sweet huff. You freed his hand as your arms returned to your sides. He was back to his usual cadence as he spoke again. “I didn’t realize you were so passionate about mission plans, Senator.”

Your ears burned, but you didn’t fight the way your smile grew in amusement at his words. “I’m very passionate about a lot of things, Sergeant.” You gave yourself a moment to enjoy the warm flush that spread across his cheeks before you looked at the holomap again. “So, I’ll position myself with Echo.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the help.” Hunter continued to wear a fond smile even as he looked upon the holographic plans. “Usually, it’s him and Tech, but… not with Tech’s ankle.”

You raised a curious brow. “Is Crosshair always alone, then?”

Hunter hummed. “He likes it that way.” His gaze slid over to you. “Wrecker doesn’t do heights, Echo can’t stay still, and Tech doesn’t really do silence.”

Your lips spread wide in an amused smile. “And you, Sergeant?”

Hunter shrugged, raising his chin as he began to return your smile. “I’m a man of action, Senator.”

You giggled, the sound more giddy than you had hoped it would be, and glanced down at your feet for a moment. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“I’m not surprised.” You lifted your head up to face him again, though he had already focused back on the dimly lit plans. The hint of a smile still tugged at the corner of his mouth even as he changed the subject. “I can’t imagine wearing our armor will be an option with all this secrecy.”

“Actually, you can wear it, and you should.” Hunter’s head snapped towards you at that. “I have a solution.”

Hunter tilted his head. “What kind of a solution?”

“A simple one.” You shrugged him off and adjusted the wrap that was still sitting on your shoulders. “You’ll see it later tonight.”

Hunter set his free hand on his hip. “A surprise, huh?”

The material of the wrap began to gently slide off your shoulders, and you let it pool at your elbows. “You’ll find that I’m full of them.”

It was hard to miss Hunter’s gaze flickering over you at the quick action, and even harder to miss the tightening of his jaw as he turned back to the holotable one more time. He paused to take a deep breath before speaking again. “Well, I should get back out there before anyone notices I’m gone.”

You nodded and considered teasing him, but let it go for now. “Right.”

Hunter returned your nod, and you deactivated the holotable as he turned towards the doors. He only made it a few steps before the internal battle you were having with yourself decided on a victor.

“Sergeant?”

Hunter stopped in his tracks, turning over his shoulder to face you again without hesitation.

You smiled at him once more. “Thank you.”

His earnest brow furrowed together. “For what, Senator?”

“For understanding.” Your gaze gave him the same once-over he had given you earlier. “All of it.”

Hunter nodded dutifully, but the action couldn’t fully hide the hard swallow he took. “It’s not easy being a leader.” He gestured with his head to the doors behind him. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”

You beamed and echoed your own words from before. “I know.”

Hunter offered one last small smile before he turned back to the doors, sliding his helmet on as they opened for him. You watched him go until the doors hid him from sight once again. With a deep exhale, you ran your hand along your forehead, resisting the burning ache in your chest that demanded you bring him back in and finish whatever he was going to let you start.

This fight was taking an entirely different type of strength from you, and it wasn’t something you could have ever trained yourself for.

From there, the rest of the day proceeded as usual, with you attending diplomatic meetings while Clone Force 99 continued to sweep the perimeter—and no doubt did whatever smaller tasks they had to for the mission that night. You were still focused on your attempts to reach a peaceful compromise through diplomacy, even if you knew the effort was in vain. You weren’t one to give up easily.

But there was nothing like exchanging your gown for your tactical clothes. You could breathe easier as you laced up your boots and secured your holster over the material on your thigh rather than vice versa. Having better access to your blaster and knife provided you with a security you hadn’t felt since you landed onworld—at least, when you weren’t in the presence of Clone Force 99.

After triple checking you had everything ready for yourself and for the squad, you approached the doors. They opened, and immediately, Tech turned to face you, looking up from his datapad as he did so.

“Tech, hail the squad.” You nodded at him with a small smile. “It’s time we get ready to go.”

Tech returned your nod. “Yes, Senator.” He then shifted away to speak into the comms. “Hunter, the senator is ready for us.”

“Great.” You had to bite your cheek to keep your smile from growing at the sound of Hunter’s voice. “Let’s move out, boys.”

You heard the sound of some of their doors opening, but Tech spoke before you could truly focus on it. “I have to say, Senator, that was very punctual. The calculations I made for how much time you would require clearly underestimated you.” He set his datapad on his belt and tilted his helmet. “My apologies.”

You let out a soft laugh and set a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need to apologize, Tech. I appreciate you keeping us on schedule.”

Tech’s eyes brightened at your praise before he nodded once more. You lowered your hand and looked to the side, where your gaze unsurprisingly connected with Hunter’s visor.

He had stopped in his tracks, and though his helmet barely moved, you could still feel the heat of his stare observing your new look. You resisted the urge to break your gaze even as your ears started to burn. The sergeant only came to his senses when Wrecker knocked his shoulder against Hunter’s as he passed him by. You chuckled as you watched Hunter give his helmet a few small shakes before closing the distance over to you.

You gestured with your head to the suite behind you as you faced the group. “Let’s make this quick.”

They all nodded, giving you the freedom to turn around and lead them inside. You reached for the pile you had made on the table and faced them once again.

“Here.” You began to distribute the black fabric to each of them, recalling the order in which you had stacked their sizes. “You’ll need these.”

“What are they?” Echo was the first one to ask.

“Hooded ponchos.” The last one you had to hand out was Hunter’s, and his gloved hands brushed yours as he took it. You somehow pushed down the rush of warmth the small moment brought you. “These will help to keep your armor concealed, including your helmets.”

“Cool,” Wrecker breathed as he slid it on over his broad figure. “Do you have one too, Senator?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Kind of.”

There was no missing the smile in Hunter’s modulated voice as he spoke next. “What a nice surprise.”

You flashed him a smile of your own. “I’m full of them.” You caught the fond tilt of Hunter’s helmet before you began to walk over to the holotable. “We’ll make the briefing quick so we can stay on schedule.”

“That would be wise,” Tech chimed in, even as he finished adjusting the poncho on his lean frame. Crosshair fixed Tech’s hood when it failed to make it over the antenna on his helmet.

“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of research and preparation on your own, which will help this go even faster.” You illuminated the display, which you had since added red markers to. Each marker indicated a person’s designated position, following what you and Hunter had discussed that morning. “Sergeant Hunter and Wrecker will be searching for any explosives they may have planted.”

“Oh, yeah!” Wrecker cheered.

“To disarm them,” Hunter reminded him.

“Oh.” Wrecker attempted to shrug off his disappointment. “Yeah.”

“Echo and I will be covering for them on the ground.” You pointed out your and Echo’s entry markers. Echo’s gaze flashed with surprise, but he nodded dutifully nonetheless. “Crosshair, we need you to keep watch up here and be ready to lay down additional cover.” Crosshair looked pleased at that, crossing his arms as he nodded. “And Tech, you’ll be sticking with Crosshair to monitor comms and help him analyze the situation from a distance.”

Tech’s eyes widened behind his goggles as he lifted a finger. “I typically complete those kinds of calculations and functions on the ground as well, Senator, if you would like me to join you and Echo for additional—.”

Hunter’s voice was low as he cut him off. “Not happening.” His visor looked pointedly at Tech’s ankle. “Running around on that injury in the dark is asking for trouble. You need to heal.”

Tech sighed. “I have told you, Hunter, that the ligaments in my ankle are much stronger now. I am more than capable of navigating this terrain without an issue.”

“Still.” Hunter lifted his helmet from his head to convey his severity to Tech. “You’re staying with Crosshair this time. That’s an order.”

Tech let out an annoyed exhale, but ultimately nodded. Crosshair snickered and rocked his shoulder against Tech’s as he spoke. “Lucky me.”

Hunter’s gaze slid over to you, no doubt catching the small smile you were wearing at the sight of his protectiveness for his squad. “You were saying, Senator?”

You shrugged. “That’s really it. Otherwise, just remember to keep your blasters on stun. The less injuries, the better.”

Hunter reached for something on his belt and handed it to you. “Here’s one of our extra comms.” He nodded as he closed your fingers around it. “In case you get separated.”

You returned his nod. “Thank you, Sergeant.” Hunter was beaming, despite the worry that swam in the depths of his gaze. You wished you could reassure him, but a new thought came to mind, and you had to focus on your audience. “Echo, how did getting an exit go?”

“Well, Senator, I definitely found one.” Echo removed his helmet, revealing his furrowed brow as he did so. “But you’re not gonna like it.” His gaze found Hunter as his voice lowered. “Neither are you.”

You and Hunter responded at the same time. “Why?”

Echo exhaled and walked over to an armoire that was meant to hold outerwear jackets. His fingers tested the edges until he pressed down, and the armoire slowly turned to reveal a dark, stone-walled corridor. Your jaw dropped, and when you stole a glance at Hunter, you saw his jaw tensed and his eyes widened to double their usual size.

There were a thousand questions running through your mind, but you made yourself pick the one that would most benefit the situation at hand. “Where does it lead to?”

Echo gestured with his head to the nearest viewport. “The outside, behind some decorative flora.”

You offered him an impressed raise of your brow. “How did you find it?”

Hunter wasn’t as eager. “And why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I was able to access the schematics.” Echo lifted his right arm. “I wanted to make sure it actually existed before I said anything.” Echo paused to look into the corridor. “Now we know it’s real.”

You nodded at him. “This is perfect, Echo.”

“Perfect?” Hunter was appalled when you turned to meet his gaze. “Senator, this gives them easy access to your private quarters. What if they use it to—.”

“Relax, Sarge.” Crosshair’s cool tone contrasted greatly against Hunter’s hot frustration and concern. “Nothing’s happened to her yet.”

“And now we know about it, like Echo said,” Wrecker added. “We can keep an extra eye out.”

“Exactly.” You lifted your brow at Hunter. “It’s just as much our advantage as it is theirs. Now we can come and go for these missions as we please.”

Tech was the last one to chime in. “Your concern is unwarranted.”

Hunter gave the group one last disbelieving look before he sighed and nodded. “You’re right.” It wasn’t hard to see the gears of his mind turning as he went on. “Just know we’ll have to start doubling up our watch shifts. One at the doors, and one wherever this leads.”

Echo was the voice of reason. “If that’s what the senator wants.”

You had to resist laughing as you looked at Hunter again. His eyes pleaded with you, and you weren’t strong enough to deny him. It was a well-founded concern that made your chest warm. “Whatever puts you at ease, Sergeant. For now…” you turned to Echo and nodded, “we have to get going.”

“That is correct.” Tech looked down at his datapad, which no doubt displayed a chrono for him. “We will be off schedule if we delay any longer.”

You turned off the holotable and walked over to where your own hood and half-mask awaited you. “Echo,” you set both items in place, “care to lead the way?”

Echo nodded, setting his helmet back over his head and covering it with his hood. You looked over to see Hunter doing the same, though you were still able to catch his worried eye before it disappeared from view. You were the first to follow Echo inside, with the other four bringing up the rear. It was Tech who pressed whatever Echo had to close the armoire’s entrance, and the group all activated their torches to light up the corridor.

“It looks like this place hasn’t been touched for years,” Echo commented as you inhaled the stale air and passed plenty of abandoned cobwebs.

“I wonder why it exists,” you mused.

“It was likely installed by a previous ruler or diplomat who occupied the suite you’re currently residing in,” Tech theorized, unable to help himself. “This would have been a critical means of escape in the event of an emergency or threat to their life, which is quite often the case for people in power.”

“Trust me, I get it,” you murmured.

There was a hand on your back, but it was familiar enough to keep you from reacting to it. You looked over to see Hunter at your side, his helmet tilted. You offered him a reassuring nod, along with a smile you couldn’t resist. He returned the nod and lowered his hand, taking his previous place a few steps behind you.

After a few stairs and a turn around a dark corner, the group came upon the exterior door. It took a few seconds for Echo to find the activation, and once he did, the door slid open the same way the armoire had. He stepped out first and cleared the area before inviting you and the squad to do the same.

“You weren’t lying, Echo.” You barely dodged the branches of a hedge as he guided your way around the flora. “This is right in the middle of the gardens.”

Hunter made his way closer to the front of the group. “It’s good at concealing the entrance.”

“It is.” Echo agreed with the sergeant before turning his helmet to you. “You’re gonna have to lead from here, Senator.”

You nodded. “All right, everyone. Get ready for a trek.”

You then ran forward, blending in with the darkness of the night thanks to your wardrobe. The squad followed at your heels, with everyone maintaining the silence as you traversed your way through the forests of Eirus. Only the sounds of your feet treading upon the foliage and the chirping of nightlife could be heard—at least, for most of you. You weren’t sure what else Hunter was, or could be, picking up on.

You were nearly there when Hunter set a gentle hand on your shoulder to stop you. His other hand was raised in a fist, which signaled the rest of the squad to pause as well. You watched as Hunter bent low to the ground and picked up some of the dirt, sifting it between his gloved fingers.

Hunter’s voice was low when he spoke. “They’ve been through here.” He stood back up to his full height and faced the squad. “Crosshair, head up.” Hunter pointed to a nearby tree, and Crosshair nodded back he shouldered his rifle and began to climb. “Tech, stay low.”

Tech nodded and drew his blaster as he crept close to the trunk of the tree Crosshair was climbing. Hunter released a gentle breath as he turned to you and Echo, though his visor lingered on you.

“We’ll split up here. I can’t sense much yet, but we’ll stay in touch.” Hunter gestured to his helmet.

“Sounds good.” You nodded, but within your chest, a feeling of dread crept up at the idea of separating. “You two stay safe, okay?” You forced the feeling away by focusing on Wrecker. “Sorry, Wrecker, but I don’t want to see any explosions.”

Wrecker huffed. “This one time, Senator, I’ll agree with ya’.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

Hunter gestured with his helmet to Wrecker. “What he said.”

You smiled and nodded once more, turning to face Echo. Yet there was a familiar hand that found yours in the dark, his fingers brushing yours with a gentle squeeze before he pushed ahead into the foliage. You stared after Hunter in awe for a moment, your chest warming with an entirely different feeling as you focused on Echo.

The ARC trooper nodded at you. “Ready, Senator?”

You raised your blaster with a small smile. “After you, Echo.”

He tilted his helmet in a substitution for a smile before running ahead. You followed him closely, using the foliage for cover as you went. You were surprised when the silence between the two of you was broken by Echo, whose tone was as eager as you had ever heard it. “So… you and Hunter, huh?”

Your eyes widened as you flashed him a surprised look. “What?” You hoped you sounded as surprised as you felt, and that the burning of your ears was the only thing giving you away.

Echo chuckled. “I’m only kidding, Senator.” His helmet gave you a quick glance. “But I have to say, he’s really taken a liking to you.”

The warmth was impossible to fight, even if you were able to keep your face straight. “Is that so?” Echo paused to nod at you before he kept going. You followed, but your curiosity couldn’t contain itself. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, even though I’m still fairly new to the squad, it's always been clear that politicians are not Hunter’s specialty. But the way he acts around you?” He shook his helmet in a genuine kind of disbelief. “It’s something I’ve never seen before.”

You couldn’t fight the smile any longer, but you at least aimed it towards your feet as you watched them traverse the terrain. “Really? That surprises me.”

“I mean, I’m surprised he’s even letting me be the one to pair up with you on this mission.” Echo stopped, encouraging you to do the same as the two of you sat along the edge of the foliage. “He’s very, very insistent about your safety.”

You beamed and hoped it was hidden behind the mask that covered the lower half of your face. “I feel the same way about his safety, and that of the rest of your squad.” You took a deep breath as your worries started to return. “You’re all risking a lot for me.”

Echo tilted his helmet at you. “That’s what we do, Senator. We know the risks.” He huffed. “And this squad loves them.”

You laughed softly and shook your head. “You have a wonderful squad, Echo. You’re very fortunate.”

“I am.” Echo reached forward to set his hand on your shoulder. “But as far as I’m concerned, it’s your squad right now, too.” His tone became even more lighthearted as he went on. “Hunter’s not the only one you’ve won over.”

You grinned at him, despite the fact he couldn’t see it beneath your mask. “Thank you, Echo. Truly. That’s very kind of you.” He nodded and lowered his hand. With a deep breath, you gestured with your head towards the outskirts of the nearby village. “With all that being said, what’s your play?”

Echo’s visor scanned the border. “Usually, I wait for one of two things. First, any suspicious movement along the edges.” He pointed towards the buildings closest to you. “Second, anything reported by the squad.”

“And if it’s quiet for a while?”

Echo lifted a hand to his helmet. “I check in.” He pressed down. “Hunter, we’re in position. How are things going so far?”

“They look busy,” Crosshair’s voice spoke into the earpiece you’d attached to the comm Hunter had given you. “Not sure if it’s because they’re finding things or if they’re still looking.”

“According to the patterns of the other attacks, it is likely there will be at least three explosives planted throughout the village,” Tech informed the group. “Hunter is aware of this, and they are seeking out these three. Given that this is a smaller village, however, there may be less.”

“Or more,” you breathed in worry, but didn’t activate the comm.

“More?” Echo’s visor stared at you.

“It could be a part of their strategy.” You furrowed your brow as the pieces started to come together. “A more brutal attack on a small village like this would expedite the people’s desire to get a resolution.”

“And make them more desperate.” Echo finished the thought for you. He cursed and activated his comm again. “Hunter, Wrecker, be on the lookout for more than three.”

“More?” Tech repeated the word just as Echo had before.

You chimed in before Tech could go on. “This could be their play. Attacking a small village like this with more brutality would get the people of Eirus to do whatever it takes to make these attacks stop.”

“The senator’s right.” Your heart dropped into your stomach at the haunted sound of Hunter’s voice. “Echo, Senator, I hope you two are good at disarming explosives. Wrecker and I are gonna need some backup.”

You and Echo shared a tense look, and Echo was the one bold enough to ask the question you were both thinking of. “How many are there?”

“Too many. It’s a hell of a lot more than three.”

You closed your eyes and composed yourself with a breath. You had faced odds much higher than this during your freedom fighting days, but with all those same allies now working against you, the weight of it all was much heavier. “We’ll start searching on the eastern half,” Echo assured Hunter.

“Be careful.”

The pure concern in Hunter’s tone wasn’t lost through the comms. You lifted yours to your mask. “You too.”

“How touching.” Crosshair’s tone was as cool as ever as he spoke once again. “But you two better get a move on, Echo. You’ve got hostiles inbound.”

“Already?” Echo sighed and readied his blaster. You did the same. “Great.”

“I hope you’re ready for some action, Echo.” You kept your tone light as you tilted your head at him.

Echo huffed and waved his blaster around. “Let’s just hope I’m not rusty after this little break of ours.”

You chuckled and let him lead the way. While you might have been a freedom fighter, Echo was an ARC trooper of the Republic, and those were credentials you could never surpass. He stuck to the shadows, using your dark clothing to your advantage, and kept moving until he could spot the hostiles Crosshair had pointed out. They weren’t anyone you could recognize, at least not from this distance.

Echo let out a breath. “I know we’re the diversion, but… we need a diversion.”

You wasted no time leaning down to the dirt to grab a stone and throwing it in the opposite direction of where you were headed. It made impact with the side of a building, catching the hostiles’ attention as they jogged off in that direction.

Echo’s visor gave you an incredulous look. “How did you know that would work?”

You shrugged. “Not all these people are trained fighters. They’ll get jumpy at any sound they hear.” You gestured with your blaster to the way ahead. “Come on.”

You and Echo ran forward, finally reaching the edge of the village. Your search for explosives began on the outermost exteriors of the sparse village’s infrastructure, and it came up fruitless until you got to your fourth building. “Senator,” Echo announced, his voice a hushed whisper. “We’ve got one.”

You looked over his shoulder and saw the circular explosive. It had no indication of when it would detonate, and that meant only one thing. “They have to be activated.”

Echo’s visor found your gaze again. “We have no idea when they’re gonna be set off.”

You lifted the comm to your mask again. “Tech, do you have any data on what time the past attacks have taken place?”

“I do.” Tech was quick to answer, and even quicker to provide said data. “The times have been rather inconsistent, but… they do follow an odd pattern.”

“What kind of pattern?” Echo questioned.

“They always take place at the top of the hour.” Your blood started to roar in your ears. “Strategically speaking, that’s not very sound.”

You found your voice again. “What time is it now?”

“Nine minutes until the hour.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You and Echo shared a look that didn’t need expressions to be understood. Echo lifted his hand to his helmet. “Hunter, Wrecker, are you hearing this?”

“Affirmative.” Hunter somehow sounded calm and worried at the same time. He projected a comfort that was nothing short of admirable. “Wrecker’s already disarmed four of them on our side. It shouldn’t be long before we can help you two out.” You exhaled an anxious breath. “Crosshair, keep an eye on those hostiles. We might need you to make some stun shots for us.”

“I read you loud and clear.” Crosshair sounded enthusiastic—at least, as much as he possibly could.

“All right, Senator, I can disarm these.” Echo got right down to business. “I may not be as good as Wrecker, but I’ve got the tools for it.” He raised his right arm.

You nodded. “Be careful, Echo. I’ll lay down cover and keep searching.”

Echo returned your nod before he attended to the first explosive. You stayed close, but kept your blaster raised and studied the closest buildings you could for more. There were none you could see, and you didn’t know whether that relieved you or worried you.

It wasn’t long before Echo joined you again. “That’s one down,” he assured you. “Have you seen any others?”

“Not yet.” You grimaced as you turned a corner. “Assuming I haven’t missed any.”

“Trust your eyes, Senator.” Echo’s encouragement was a comfort you needed. “We don’t have time to double check.”

You nodded, focusing back on your surroundings. It was a delicate balance of staying quiet, moving fast, and checking every single thing your eyes touched—all while trying to evade enemies you couldn’t even see. Echo found a second, and while he disarmed that, you heard Crosshair over the comms again.

“Hunter, Wrecker, watch your six. Hostiles are about to round the corner.”

You bit your cheek in worry for them. The last thing you wanted was to have to actually stun anyone. It would be a whole lot more covert if you and the squad were able to get in and leave without any signs of detection, and an unconscious fighter would be the least helpful way to achieve that.

“Five minutes,” Tech warned.

Your chest was burning at the fast pace of your heartbeat as Echo finished disarming. You pushed onward, soon finding a third to Echo to work on. Your voice was a whisper as you spoke to the ARC trooper. “Where the hell did they get all these explosives from?”

“If the Separatists are backing them, then I’d expect they’d have a pretty endless supply.” Echo managed to answer even as he attended to the explosive.

You shook your head. “That’s who they really want in control of our homeworld.” The thought alone made you sick. “People who give them the resources to destroy our villages.”

“Sometimes, people lose sight of what they’re actually fighting for.” Echo provided the wise words as he finished. “It’ll never be enough for them.” He gestured with his helmet to the way ahead. “Let’s keep moving.”

You quickened your pace even as you remained attentive to every single thing you passed. You heard nothing more from Hunter and Wrecker, which hopefully meant that they averted the hostiles on their own. Echo was working on his fourth when you heard footsteps. Your grip around your blaster tightened. “Echo, we’re about to have some company.”

He lifted his free hand to the side of his helmet. “Crosshair—.”

He was too late. Two figures turned the corner, and you hesitated on the trigger for only a moment. It was the right call.

Hunter and Wrecker lowered their blasters before they jogged over to you. “We finally caught up to you,” Hunter said, his voice breathless as he looked between you and Echo. “How’d it go?”

“Assuming you searched everywhere else,” Echo started, “then this is the last one.”

“Three minutes.” Tech’s voice was as even as ever as he delivered the update. “At this time, I would recommend retreating back to the forest, in the event that there are any you missed.”

“I agree,” Hunter responded. “Echo, once you’re done, we’re heading out.”

“Shouldn’t we do a quick sweep before we go?” You couldn’t help speaking up on behalf of your people. “Respectfully, Sergeant, I don’t want to take the chance that any more of my people are hurt tonight. I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

Hunter’s shoulders rose and fell in consideration, and he tilted his helmet before he responded. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’ll stay with you.” He looked at Echo as the ARC trooper finished with the last explosive. “Echo, Wrecker, head back to cover. The senator and I will be right behind you.”

You would have smiled if the stakes weren’t so high. Wrecker and Echo shared a look before they nodded, with Echo’s hand patting your shoulder as he and Wrecker headed for the trees. You and Hunter began to backtrack the way you came as you offered him a quick glance. “Are you sensing anything?”

“Not yet.” Hunter’s steps began to slow. “At least, not explosives.” He began to turn his helmet over his shoulder. You followed the movement, holding tight to your blaster—but as you did so, you spotted something else.

It only took a split second for you to raise your blaster over Hunter’s shoulder and pull the trigger. One of the attackers hit the ground as you stunned them, causing Hunter’s helmet to whip in that direction. He knew exactly where to aim as he stunned the other one he had sensed behind him.

Hunter lifted his fingers to his helmet. “We’ve been spotted. Tech, monitor comms. Until then, Plan Double Zero.”

You furrowed your brow. “What does that entail?”

Hunter kept his voice low as the two of you began to pick up your pace once again. “Radio silence. I’m not taking the chance that we’re gonna be heard.” You nodded at that, allowing him to go on. “We’ll make contact once we know it’s safe.”

Just as you were about to turn your last corner, a shot rang out from that direction. You and Hunter both rolled to evade their fire, making it behind the cover of a building as you prepared to retaliate. Hunter’s body was shielding you from the direction of their fire, but they still had the open ground. He emerged a few times to shoot, but he hadn’t yet landed any shots.

“We’re pinned down.” Hunter somehow continued to sound calm even as he presented the dire reality of your situation. It began to make more sense as he reached for something on his belt. “I have an idea. When I tell you to run, you run as fast as you can, and you shoot if you see anyone in your path. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

Hunter returned your nod and faced the corner of the building again. He then pressed the button on the item in his hand and rolled it along the ground. It made a sound akin to that of a small explosion, and you saw the smoke that started to cloud the area just before Hunter gave the order. “Run!”

You both rose from your feet at the same time, and you kept him in front of you as you ran. The smoke bomb made it hard to see where you were going, but Hunter guided your path, the circles of his stun shots illuminating the space even more as he finally took down the hostiles in your path. For a moment, you could breathe in relief.

Then, you saw something else flashing in the smoke, a light that only got more and more rapid.

“Sergeant!” You cried out, causing his helmet to whip around. “We didn’t get them all!”

His visor stopped on something behind you, and he lunged in your direction. Hunter’s arms wrapped around you as he swung you in front of him and acted as your shield. All you could hear was a single blaster shot ringing out before the explosion dominated every other sense.

You hadn’t even remembered flying through the air or hitting the ground. The next thing you knew, there were two hands on the side of your face, which was no longer covered by your mask. You blinked your eyes open as best as you could, though the smoke and ash made them burn. You inhaled and instantly began to cough.

That’s when the helmet was placed over your head. The filter inside of it facilitated your breathing, and in just a few long seconds, you were able to get a grip on your senses once again. You sat up on your elbows as the hands that were on your face moved to your shoulders, and even though it was quite the adjustment getting used to the view through the sergeant’s visor, you could see Hunter kneeling over you.

“There you go.” Hunter’s worried eyes were giving you a once-over. “Are you okay?”

You let out a groan as you sat up more. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rolled your neck. “Just winded.”

Hunter nodded in relief. “Good.”

You smiled, believing him to be in the same condition as you, but that quickly faded when his eyelids began to flutter. Your brow furrowed as you snapped back into action, your hands now finding his shoulders as you assessed him. “Sergeant? What is it?”

You didn’t receive an answer. Hunter’s head hung low before he keeled over, landing on his side. Your heart leaped into your throat as you rose to your knees and held the side of his face.

“Hunter? Hunter?!” You tapped his cheek, but he didn’t wake. You cursed and observed him more closely, and that’s all it took to notice the scarlet on his left side.

It was then that you remembered the blaster shot you had heard before the blast. The shot was what Hunter was actually protecting you from, and part of it had clipped him badly enough to start bleeding him out.

You swallowed down a panicked gasp and leapt into action. The radio silence kept you from calling the squad for help, but you refused to wait for them, anyway. You would do it on your own.

For a moment, you observed where you were. The blast had at least knocked you both closer to the woods, and it was an area that was even more familiar than where you had been before. There was a hidden base from your freedom fighting days on this side of the village’s forest, and if you were lucky, it would still be completely abandoned.

The only challenge would be getting Hunter’s deadweight there.

Stars, give me strength. You rose to your feet and removed Hunter’s helmet from your head, placing it over his own to protect him. You hooked your arms around Hunter’s shoulders and pulled up, grunting as you used all your strength to do so. The adrenaline made you a hell of a lot stronger as you started to drag Hunter away from the heavy smoke and flames.

As you made your way to the secret base, your strength began to wither more and more, but you refused to stop. Hunter had sacrificed himself to save you from both a lethal bolt and an explosion, and you were going to give him that same effort right back. That wound could bleed him out if it wasn’t treated soon, and you weren’t going to let that happen.

You allowed yourself only a few breaks before you finally saw the outline of the old base. Thankfully, it was completely unattended, which likely meant the attackers of this village weren’t any of the fighters you were familiar with. You groaned with each movement as you heaved yourself and Hunter inside the rickety shelter, one that blended in well enough with the surrounding nature to keep the two of you secure for a while.

You propped Hunter up along the farthest wall and removed his pack from his back. Taking his torch and your own, you set them up to illuminate the dark space for you to see. You removed Hunter’s helmet and grimaced at the way his head hung in unconsciousness. Your hand cupped his cheek.

“I wish I could ask your permission, Sergeant,” you spoke to the open air. “But I have to save your life.”

You wasted no more time removing his poncho and the pieces of armor on his upper body, attempting to give yourself better access to his side. Once they were removed, you lifted the top half of his blacks, pulling the material over his head and tossing it aside with the rest. There would have been quite a sight to see if you weren’t so tunnel-visioned on the bleeding wound in his side.

Like any good leader, Hunter had a fully equipped medpac in his pack, and you broke it open to start attending to the wound. Your hands were precise even as they trembled, cleaning the wound and pressing on it to stop the bleeding the best you could. After a few minutes of pressure, you reached for the treatments, disinfecting the wound and coating it in at least three generous layers of bacta. The last touch was a bacta patch that you secured in place with a wrap.

It was only then you exhaled, knowing that your part was done. All you could do now was wait for him to wake.

You calmed your nerves by keeping yourself busy. The contents of Hunter’s pack also included emergency food and water, and you held on to the latter along with a dose of pain medication. It was in the midst of this careful organization that you finally heard Hunter stir.

The sergeant groaned as he attempted to push himself off the wall. You were quick to sit up more and set a hand on his bare shoulder, urging him back against the wall. “Easy, Sergeant.” You met his worried gaze and nodded. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Hunter tried to exhale a relieved breath, but he cut himself off with a tight growl as it tugged on his sensitive wound. “That’s not what I was worried about,” he confessed through gritted teeth.

You smiled and shook your head. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand…” you let the panic of all these events show for only a moment in your trembling voice, “you had a close call.”

Hunter’s gaze softened at you before it lowered to his patched up side. “I’ve had worse.” His brow furrowed as he looked up at you again. “How did we get here?” Hunter’s curious eyes observed your surroundings. “Where even are we?”

“It’s an old base. No one else will know about it.” You raised an eyebrow. “If they did, they’d be making use of it.” You gestured with your head to the entrance somewhere behind you. “I brought you here.”

Hunter’s eyes widened. “By yourself?”

You huffed. “I’m stronger than you think, Sergeant. Remember what I said before?” You ran your thumb over his shoulder. “I’m full of surprises.”

The corners of Hunter’s lips began to rise as he lifted his brow. “You really are, Senator.”

You returned his smile, though it started to fade as you focused on the hand you still had on his bare shoulder. You pulled it away and looked down as shyness overtook you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t ask your permission to… access your wound.”

Hunter’s hand found your chin just as it had earlier that morning, tilting your head up until your gaze met his again. His eyes sparkled at you even in the darkness of the base. “You don’t have to apologize for saving my life.”

You chuckled and raised your brow. “You saved mine first.”

Hunter shrugged, wincing at the movement. “I guess that makes us even.” He lowered his hand from your chin as he attempted to push himself up more.

You watched him with a careful eye before reaching for the water and pain relief. “Here.” You handed them off to him. “You’ll need this.”

Hunter smiled as he took them from you. “Thank you.” He took the medicine and swallowed it down, and you had to look away to fight the way the action flustered you for no good reason. As he set the water aside, he approached a new subject. “Where’s the squad?”

You sighed and shook your head. “Don’t know. We’re still radio silent.”

Hunter’s brow rose. “Still?”

You nodded. “Tech hasn’t said anything. The area must not be secure yet.”

Hunter’s gaze looked beyond you for a moment, no doubt focusing on the entrance to the base. “We have to get back to them.”

He started to sit up again, and you set a hand on his shoulder again. “Not in your condition. You have to rest more.”

Hunter furrowed his brow. “They could be knee-deep in combat right now. I can’t let them fight alone.”

You wanted to soften for him, but your concern wouldn’t allow it. “They can handle themselves, and you know that. They would want you to take care of yourself if they knew you were hurt.”

Hunter didn’t let up. “I’m not abandoning my squad.”

You exhaled a curt breath. “You won’t be helping anyone if you rush into a fight in this condition.”

When Hunter gently eased your hand off his shoulder and began to sit up more, you set both your hands firmly upon his chest, moving your body in front of him to act as a wall that kept him from pushing forward more.

Your voice left no room for argument as you gave the order. “You need to rest, Sergeant.”

Hunter’s stare never left yours as he responded. “I can’t rest when I’m this close to you, Senator.”

His words took you aback in a way you hadn’t expected. Your breath caught in your throat as you, too, observed how close the two of you had gotten. Your gaze fell to your hands, watching the way his scarred chest rose and fell in steady breaths underneath your palms. Your right hand was close enough to his heart to feel the way it raced, moving at nearly the same quick pace as your own.

And there it was again, the touch on your chin that urged you to drown in the depths of Hunter’s gaze. Everything shifted as the previous frustration you both held was exchanged for another, one that had been simmering between the two of you from the moment he first kissed your hand on Coruscant.

The invitation was there again. Hunter didn’t move, but he gave you the freedom to. This time, you didn’t weigh yourself down with the what-ifs, as Echo’s words and reassurances from before rang through the back of your mind instead. You moved closer to Hunter until his nose brushed yours, drawing a quiet, anticipatory breath from your lungs.

Even then, Hunter didn’t move. The choice was all yours. And this time, you were going to make the right one.

Your lips slotted over his in a way that felt natural, albeit still quite shy. You tested the waters as you breathed into him once, staying close enough to keep his nose against yours as you pulled away. He had given you the first choice, and you were giving him the second.

You wanted him to want it as badly as you did, and you wanted so much more. Thankfully, he did too.

Hunter’s hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling your mouth back to his with the same desperation and desire that had been forcing deep down inside yourself. The shyness had all but vanished as your lips molded together, moving in perfect sync as your exploration of one another deepened. You raised a hand to the back of his hair as his free hand ran over the back of your leg, encouraging you to take your place upon him.

The moment his tongue pushed through, you lost any last shred of control you had, tightening your grasp on his locks as the fingernails on your other hand grazed over the skin of his chest. His hand on your thigh tightened and drew a pleased sigh from you that you released into him. There wasn’t a chance you were separating from him, not yet—and if you had it your way, not ever.

But Hunter had other ideas. He broke away only to lower his face to your neck, praising the sensitive skin there in a way you had never felt before. Your eyelids fluttered as you fought for some shred of sanity, but you couldn’t keep quiet. Your hand found his upper arm, and you gave it a squeeze to ground yourself as you practically cried out. “Hunter…”

It was the pleased hum against your neck that truly stole your last breath. You couldn’t take another moment apart, no matter how good this felt. The hand in his hair urged him back, and as soon as you had access, your mouth and your tongue were his yet again.

There was no conceiving how long this went on, and it didn’t matter. Nothing did, not as long as you were connected to him in this way. The adrenaline of everything that had happened was creating a dangerous mixture with the affection and desire that had long since been left unaddressed, and it was too addictive for either one of you to ignore.

Until the comm on your belt began to chime.

“Comms are clear,” Tech announced. “So is the area, as far as Crosshair and I can tell.”

You and Hunter broke apart, lips lingering as his mouth kept your upper lip captured in sweet surrender. You shared panting breaths in the air between you as your gazes met one another. It was hard to make sense of anything when all you could feel and taste was him.

But you could still tell Echo’s voice was worried even through the haze of your stolen moment with Hunter. “Does anyone have eyes on Hunter and the senator? Wrecker and I aren’t finding anything.”

The moment was over, and you would both have to face it. You continued to stare at Hunter even as you unclipped the comm from your belt and activated it. “We’re here. We took shelter until we knew it was safe. We’ll rendezvous at Crosshair and Tech’s position.”

Echo couldn’t hide his relief as he replied. “Glad to hear it, Senator.”

You put your comm back and released a sigh. Rather than looking at Hunter again, you focused on the pile of his armor at your side. As leaders, it was time to focus back on your people. He would understand that just as he had understood everything else. “Time to suit back up, Sergeant.”

Hunter nodded in your periphery to agree with you. Though he reached for the pile with a tight growl, you gently pushed his hand away, instead doing much of the work for him as you started with the upper half of his blacks. Silence sat between the two of you as he re-suited, but you weren’t sure what to make of it. You were both too far inside your own minds to really think about it.

His helmet was the last thing you secured in place for him, and you held it between your hands for a moment as your gaze studied his visor. This was something that would have to be discussed later. For now, he had to focus on his squad, just as he had let you focus on your own people before.

You stood and helped Hunter to do the same. He grunted at the movement, and you ducked low to swing his arm over your shoulders. You had already picked up both your torches and helped Hunter with his pack, and one last sweep of the base confirmed you had left nothing behind.

Nothing but the unspoken truth of what you had done, the remnants of which continued to linger on your mind, heart, and mouth with a sweet vengeance that was no doubt only going to make things even more difficult than they already were.

chapter 3 ⟸ series masterlist ⟹ chapter 5

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr @Molmcb

senator’s shadow tag list: @violetlilly2020 @jellybeanstacey0519

[kruegerspillow]

task force 141 + how they show their affection :3

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

creators note: a gift for these feral cod fangirls/fanboys tbh. just a simple heads up; this isnt exactly canon. isn't proofread either btw, apologies for the mistakes (the four hours of sleep is kicking in >:3)

warnings: none? a pinch of nsfw, but meh, nothing too explicit here

• Well.. Simon is Simon.

• Once he gets comfortable, he definitely tries to match your love language. And lets just say, that experience wasn't really.. pleasant. Especially if your love language is spending time, or words of affirmation.

• I don't really see Simon as the 'verbal' type of guy.

• So.. he buys you gift at random times. When he's in the middle of a mission, in his base, in the evac, literally everywhere.

• He was hesitant at first though, thinking that you might see him as a creep whenever he asked you questions like your favorite food, flowers, snacks, colors. But he really just want to show you his appreciation, in his way.

• LOVES it when you thank him or send a picture of you just smiling while holding the gift he had bought for you. Makes his heart aches everytime, and it upsets him a bit to know that he can't always be there for you, and you must've been so lonely with his gifts.

• Will buy anything you like. Literally anything. You want a necklace? He got it. Oh, you prefer matching hoodies? He got it. A German Shepherd? Wellll... he's going to think about it.

• My guy probably shows his affection through every way possible in this universe, LMAO.

• He's gotten you gifts before, praising you with his words whenever you impress him, hugging and clinging onto you tightly like a koala, spending time with you in cafes or malls that you favor, and the list goes on..

• But if he had to choose one? It's definitely physical touch.

• Your skin feels so soft against his, he had admired your curves even in public, he loves having your hands interlinked together, he felt.. really closer then ever.

• Though he won't force you, but if you insists on showing this affection first, he'll melt into a puddle. He loves PDA, but not the totally extreme ones. A simple hug or kiss on the cheek is more then enough for him.

• I mean.. just look at him. He's a touch-starved guy who's been away from his favorite person, what did you expect? A simple kiss at home wasn't enough for him, definitely not. He wants to feel you clench around him..

• Just look at this cuddly bear, and do NOT even tell me that he wouldn't praise you.

• He loves using his words for you, always praising and supporting you through his little 'I love you's' and nicknames. And if you do the same to him, it'll be a different story.

• Loves to see your reaction to his words. Whether you blush, look away, gets all fidgety, he just loves to see you in such a shy state.

• Always praises you at any time. After a successful mission, he goes up to you and goes 'attagirl/attaboy', while giving you a soft pat on the shoulder. He always means it, especially in his words. He'd always been a genuine and straightforward guy anyway.

• Or after a lovey-dovey session, just whispering praises in your ears and telling you how well you did, how well you took him, as he caresses you softly.

• Three simple words. Act of service.

• He might be one hell of a sassy guy, but he would be SO vulnerable around you. Every order you tell him, he'll give you a playful comment, but definitely follows it.

• Probably gets all embarassed when you mention about the way he's following your comands, he'll always be rejecting the fact that he listens to you really well.

• He can literally feel his knees going weak when you praise him after he had followed your orders, but he acted all tough and confident around you.

• You want him to cook? Sure, tell him what food you want. You want him to buy food? Sure, tell him what restaurant. You want him to cuddle with you? Gladly, with open arms, while you with open legs.

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 11: Collateral Damage

Words: 5.8k

Summary: It's been a month since your breakup with Carmy and Syd wouldn't ask for your help unless they were absolutely slammed.

a/n: 1 more chapter + epilogue to go and I don't know what to do with myselffff!!!!

Thank you for sticking around thus far and commenting is always appreciated!

Heartbreak is a funny little thing. You can walk a delicate line all your life to avoid feeling it, but one way or another it’ll find you. It’s the eternal debate: To avoid all and spare yourself from hurt, but live a life of emptiness and quiet; or to welcome the pain like an old friend, at peace and knowing you never stopped trying. Everyone chooses a side at some point, but you’re never really spared from it. 

You’ve always hated the part of you that feels too deeply. The one that created stories out of strangers, wonder struck by microseconds of eye contact, then shattered when they step off the train. The one that no matter how many times was dolefully blown into the ground, it still believes in good grace and  happy endings.

“So yeah… That’s basically it since the last time I saw you.” You say, twirling the small ring with the aquamarine stone that you had stopped wearing long ago. You look up to the woman sitting across from you and ask “What? You asked me how I was.”

“And I wasn’t expecting a two hour monologue.”

“Well what did you expect? Haven’t seen you in months, I needed to vent…” You fight back.

You can hear the soft scribbles of her pen for a couple minutes and you make yourself comfortable against the soft pillows that fill up most of her couch.

“So, how long has it been?” She speaks again.

“Bout a month…” You sigh.

“And have either of you tried reaching out?”

“No, I-” You take a breath and ponder over the question, the single unanswered text weighing heavy on your phone. “I wouldn’t know what to say. Besides, I’ve been too busy with my paintings and helping out with the auction. I don’t really have time for… anything else. I-I guess he’s been busy too.” 

“But you still know what he’s up to?” She asks with raised brows.

You shrug with a single shoulder and chew at your thumbnail with slight nerves. “Syd talks about work sometimes, when we go out. But I think she kinda feels guilty for bringing him up. I told her it’s fine.” The woman looks at you skeptically through the small circular glasses. “I’m fine.” You half lie. “I am, it's just… The auction is this weekend and they’re catering so… I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel…”

“Because you’ll see him again?”

“...Yeah.”

The woman calls your name again and you rip your eyes from the ring on your finger, heavy inside your own head to hear her question.

“So, is your set finished?” She asks to change the conversation.

“Mhm. It only took me a couple weeks to finish but -” Your smile curls slowly at the edge of your lips. “I'm really proud of them.”

“That’s great to hear.” She whispers with a genuine smile. “You know, heartbreak can also be a beautiful thing. It’s painful, yes, but it also gives a vulnerability we don’t regularly allow ourselves. It lets us create wonderful things. It’s all part of the human experience. It truly is nice to know you’re doing better, even after going MIA for months.” She says with a practiced tone mothers use to scold you.

She schedules you in for the next month and you promise to not bail this time, then walking out the office with your bag over your shoulder and a lightweight heart. The prospect of seeing him at the auction is still heavy on your mind as you make your way to the train station and the simple thought fills your chest like a crisp breath of air. ‘He could just send Syd’ you think and you try to not engage too much with the idea in fear that it may sour your good mood.  Instead you focus on your steady steps and people watching, ‘whatever happens, happens.’ you mumble under your breath.

**********

Syd’s call had pulled you from the comfort of your home before the sun was even visible over the horizon. Her worried tone had you waking up instantly and darting frantically around your darkened room in search of anything that could shield you from the increasing cold, then out the door and in the dreaded direction of The Beef. 

It’s been a month since you last spoke with Carmy and even though in the grand scheme of time, it’s only a mere speck of dust, to you it had felt eternal. Small snippets blur together into one long strenuous day, piggy-backing off your grief and pushing your shoulders deeper into the ground. You had called him a few days after in hopes that you could talk things over, but it went straight to voicemail. So you left a text that you anxiously waited an answer for the following days. All of a sudden, one week turned into two, then three and before you knew it, a month had gone by without a response. You kept busy picking up most of the planning to avoid any crossing thought of him, only allowing yourself to break with your canvas in front and acrylics to spear. 

You had done enough to convince yourself you were fine, that even if he were to show up tomorrow and not send Syd on his behalf, you'd be fine. 

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. 

Everything was fucking fine until this morning when Syd had called to ask for help at the restaurant. Richie had been arrested, the place was a mess and they were behind on prep for the event tomorrow because they were lacking hands. Protesting would only lose you time that they did not have, so in place of that you settle to ignore the treacherous wormhole vacuuming out the few remains of confidence you had saved for tomorrow as you wait for the train that’ll leave you on River North Station.

Twenty three minutes later, you're walking at a brisk pace through the streets with a thick knot for a stomach and a growing unease. You push through the door and stop in your tracks at the shock and disarray of the place.

“What the fuck? Ugh-” 

The potent smell of alcohol is the first thing that invades your nose, along with the stickiness of the floor the deeper you walk into the room. There’s solo cups scattered everywhere and half working Christmas lights hanging loosely over the walls. Some frames from the front wall lay broken, spewing shards of glass all around the tiles.

“Mi amor, qué sorpresa!” You hear Tina’s voice from behind the counter and you slowly walk towards her, the small pieces shattering under the weight of your boots.

She hugs you tight and kisses your cheek. “Tina, what the hell happened in here?! It smells like the fuckin’ Hangover…”

“Ay baby, don’t even get me started with these knuckleheads-”

You take another woeful look around, then follow her inside as she recounts the little information Sydney gave them from the frantic phone call she had with Carmen. How they rented out The Beef for a bachelor’s and Richie had knocked out some drunk while defending Carmen’s ass. It’s strange to you, the pair’s relationship. How they were always ready to rip each other to pieces, but would jump to save the other without a second thought. They said they couldn’t stand one another, but you’re sure they’re something either can’t live without.

“So what, he’s in for aggravated assault?” You ask.

“Only if the guy wakes up.” Marcus answers with a broom in hand, sweeping away remnants of glitter and tinsel.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Could be 5 to 25 for accidental manslaughter…” Sweeps chimes in while carrying a full trash bag to the back.

Your throat closes up and behind your concern, you hear Marcus ask Sweeps how he knows so much about the matter. ‘Bro, I told you. I went to Harvard Law…’ ‘Oh yeah…’

You breathe in  deep while maintaining the possibility of his release still in your mind and you head to Syd’s side, pulling your hair up into a ponytail automatically. 

“Alright, brigade’s here. What d’you need?” You say after a quick hug hello.

“Guess you know more about it than I do…”

She’s flipping through the binder with all the recipes and images of the canapes they’d be serving, the one you helped Carmy assemble all those months back. Despite a few scribbles and notes at the foot of some recipes, it’s practically the same. You bend the corner lightly on the last page to find the miniature ‘C’ surrounded by purile hearts and your morning coffee grows knotty in your gut.

“Is he…” You try asking, but the sentence loses power half way through.

Syd seems to catch your drift. “No, no. He’s been down at the station since dawn.”

You nod absentmindedly with your eyes glued to the page. 

“Okay, um. Marcus left the sourdough for the tapas rising all night yesterday, so we have a good start on that-” Syd began and you pull all your attention to the task at hand. “Beef’s already bracing in the oven but it’ll take a couple more hours. You can start with the ginger- tangerine compote. That’ll go on the brie.” She says, handing you one of the blue aprons. 

“Alright, heard.” The words feel unnatural rolling off your tongue after being away from a kitchen for so long.

She leaves you in search of Fak, urging him to finish fixing the backed up sink in the Steward section. You drown out the bicker and hastily make your way into the walk-in, throwing the apron over your head and tying the back securely around your waist. It’s almost as if the familiar pressure unveils a dormant sensation and you soon find yourself navigating with ease through the skills you thought forgotten. The knife feels at home under your palm -heftier than a paint brush but still requires the same level of  concentration- as you separate the tangerine supremes and add them to the pot holding clarified butter, sugar and rosemary leaves. Everyone works in a rhythmic but comfortable silence, a stark difference from the frantic, unmeasured mess they seemed to thrive in when you still worked here. 

“Yo chef?” Marcus calls from your left. 

You lift your head to him while you finish peeling the ginger. “What's up?”

“Mind tasting this for me? It’s for the gig but somethin’ bout the filling don’t feel right…”

You nod and wipe your hands on your rag, then take a bite into the miniature stuffed doughnut that doesn’t seem bigger than an Oreo. The flavors are too thick to tell them apart but  the softness of the dough allows it to almost melt in your mouth. 

“The dough’s perfect-“ You say between bites, the compliment blooming over his face into a grin. “How bout a different filling though, there’s a lot going on and you can’t really enjoy the texture.”

“Right!? See, that’s what I was thinkin’. Got anything in mind?”

“Mmm, you could try a chai cream filling.”

“Just milk and cinnamon, then?”

“Yes and also no” You answer with a smile. “Try to steep some black tea in milk with cinnamon and ginger. Then instead of sugar, add honey to your crème and the chai milk. It should be a little bit more runny so when it cools it doesn’t get that jelly-like consistency from the egg.” You finish then turn back to peeling off the skin of the ginger with your spoon. 

Marcus is still standing beside you with a pleased smile. “You really know your stuff, huh? Thought you was burnt out.” and you lightly hit him over the arm with the back of your spoon. 

“Oh, I can totally smoke your ass baker boy..” You grin.

Before he can fight back, a sudden commotion by the entrance has you lifting your head above the second level of the table and searching for the noise. The slick handle of the spoon  almost slips past your hand when your eyes capture the image of two very sleep deprived Carmen and Richie walking through the staff door. You can see everyone showering them with attention, how Tina hugs Richie tight then smacks him hard over the head, but the loud ringing in your ears and the sudden rush of cold blood prevent you from moving any closer. Not that you’d want to anyway. You try to pull yourself together, wiping your clammy hands for the tenth time and watching them advance deeper into the room. Richie’s the first to spot you and true to his nature, he lets the whole room know that he’s seen you, with outstretched palms in your direction.

“Oh, shit! This a fuckin’ family reunion?!” His hand falls heavily over the crown of your head and you swat it away with a smack.

“How’s prison?” 

“Oh, y'know…free food, can’t complain.”

“D’you get yourself a bitch?” You tease.

“Yeah, brought ‘em home, actually-” He says pointing back to Carmy, causing the forming grin on your face to fall when you see he’s been watching you. You pull your eyes from him and back to your cutting board. “Oh right, my bad…”

You shake your head, mumbling a sharp ‘asshole’ through gritted teeth. Richie takes off to the back and you’re finally left at peace.

You fall into a pronounced balance of chopping and continuously stirring the compote, until it reaches the needed consistency and you pull it off the fire to cool. You check it off Syd’s thoroughly organized list and scroll down to find the next task, then make your way back into the walk-in. With a bowl resting on your hip, you pick out a few pears you’ll need, then hear the creak of the metal door open and you assume it’s Syd coming in to take a breather from the frenetic kitchen.

“Yo, I’m gonna start poaching the pears. You’re out of red wine but I can run to the corner store and try to flirt with the clerk to knock a few bucks off a bottle-”

The slick bowl almost slips from your grip when your eyes catch his. A chill slithers from your neck, down your spine and wraps around your knees, rendering them uselessly immobile as Carmy just stares you down through tired lids. The room grows uncomfortably smaller with the two of you locked inside and you're afraid that he can hear the irregular tempo in your quickening pulse. You wonder if the slight shock in his brows is due to not knowing you were in there. It only flashes for a second, then his features conceal behind a curtain of indifference, making your stand straighter.

“H-hey.” He says with a feign coolness as he wraps his own apron around his waist and moves deeper into the room, as if it’s the most natural thing to find you between the inventory of his restaurant.

You turn back to the shelf so he doesn’t notice the multiple quivery inhales it takes for your voice to sound somewhat even. “Syd asked me for help, that’s why I’m here I-”

“No- yeah, I get it- I wasn’t-” He cuts himself off and takes a breath that has your wavering stare slowly inching towards him. “Thank you…”

You finally turn to him, only holding his stare for a second, then give him a tight smile and wrap both arms securely around the bowl that wants to slip from your clammy palms. His lips part and you wait for anything else to leave his mouth, maybe a ‘How’ve you been?’ or a ‘Can we talk?’. But nothing does and you try to not let it sting as much as it normally does when you get your hopes up. You take a reluctant step towards the door, then another and another, only stopping when your name vibrates in the concealed room.

“Yeah…?” You turn with a full chest.

He holds an unopened bottle of wine in your direction, face blank. “Bottom left shelf.” He says, shrugging.

“Oh. Right.” You take it without meeting his stare so he doesn’t see the grief slapped across it and quickly push yourself out the space.

You spend the better part of half an hour peeling the thin skin off the pears and letting the simmering wine and spices fill the kitchen with a strong sweetness. Carmy’s presence looms around the room as he checks in with every station on their progress, but doesn’t stop with you. All you get is a soft ‘Behind’ and the tingling sensation of his touch on your lower back as he passes by. You don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, although it doesn't really matter to the breath that stops in your throat when he does it. ‘Just finish this and you can leave.’ you repeat to yourself. Though you know you won’t, at least not until they’re up to schedule, even if every second sharing the same space withers at your soul.

You do your best to focus on your task, only talking to Tina when she gently squeezes your forearm to ask if you're okay, because your brows are glued into that permanent scowl that only displays your irritation outward.

“Yeah I, um- just got a lot on my plate.” You tell her and try to not let it trigger the tears you’ve hoarded in the back of your throat.

“No te hará sentir mejor-” She whispers to your side. 

“-Probably not-”

“-pero él está igual de miserable que tú. Really baby, you should have a talk with him, y’know, straighten things out.”

“T, ni siquiera me ve a la cara…” You whisper back. “How am I supposed to straighten anything out if he won’t even look at me?”

“Ay, baby I know. But I’ve known that stubborn boy all his life and let me tell you, since he came back from Madison Square Park -or wherever the fuck-, he was all different and… bitchy. And it wasn’t ‘till you came along that he finally felt like the Carmy we all knew before… pues ya tu sabes.” She says in reference to his brother.

“You two are good for each other, but you’re both stubborn as hell… talk it out, okay? Don’t lose somethin’ good ‘cause you're stubborn.” Tina rubs your shoulder reassuringly then with a final smile. she turns yelling ‘Corner!’ and disappears behind the tall stands.

You swallow down the aching knot and distract yourself with the slippery fruit in your hands.

“Can I..?” You see his hands before hearing his voice, as he lightly places a white cutting board a few feet away from you. You eye the curves of discoloring letters above his knuckles, then force your stare back to your own working hands and shrug.

“Sure… your kitchen.”

He only nods, from your side view you see how his eyes linger on you for a few moments then fall back down. The air between you feels thick despite the music playing from the hoarse stereo and a light layer of conversation from the staff. There’s a heavy pressure over your chest that only seems to expand with every silent minute passing between you. 

Then Carmy clears his throat. “How’s-uhm- your set.. for the auction?” 

Confusion and irritation brew in synchronicity with your wine and you try to hide the annoyance his question brings you. He acts as if he’s just seen you the day before, as if things had ended with a friendly handshake and a mutual agreement, not with him breaking up with you and completely vanishing from your life.

“It’s fine.” You turn to the burners and stir the pot slowly to keep it from burning and also to avoid his heavy gaze.

You taste it to make sure the flavors are correct then turn back to finally finish peeling the last of your pears. Carmy stares at you like he wants to say something else, but just contemplates the seriousness of your features and the flow of your hands as you move the peeler in a frenzy. Each stroke grows closer to your skin and he just feels the need to warn you.

“Careful you’re gonna-”

“Mierda!” You hiss, dropping the handle immediately and cradling your palm under the injured one. “Hijo de puta!”

He’s by your side in a second, with his clean towel hovering under your hands and taking the fruit that you crushed involuntarily when the pain closed your fist. 

“It’s fine- I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not, you’re bleeding-”

“I said I’m fine!” You pry your hand hard enough to hear a slight pop from your wrist.

Carmy’s hands fall to his sides and you divert your gaze to the floor walking to the nearest sink to clean your wound. You hiss again when the warm water hits your palm and a gash at the bottom of it is finally visible. Fucking perfect. You scrub remnants of puree and blood off, until the water runs a light pink and you're relieved to see it won’t need stitches. A gauze and some tape will suffice, so you wrap it in some paper towels to avoid dripping and march to the small office where you find the kit. The quicker you move, the faster you’ll be out of the confined space that makes you feel like a vulnerable prey. But your fingers tremble from the light sting and the edge of the wrapper isn’t cooperating with your dull nails. Tiny droplets of blood pool in the center of your palm, the frustration grows too quickly and you slam the unopened gauze flat on the desk.

“Fuck!”

‘It’s fine, you’re fine.’ The voice in your head circles through the same phrase, pretending that the sudden proximity of him didn’t unearth something you have tried so hard to bury down for the last month. You thought you could be mature enough to ignore the crushing weight settling over you with every stare, but the wisps of frigid indifference that radiated off him wrapped a tightening noose around your neck and you weren’t sure how long you had until it finally killed you. 

A soft click pulls your attention from the crimson in your hand. Carmy stands with raised palms, inching slowly towards your intense glare, then reaches out a hand as if trying to help a wounded animal. Which in a way, you are and the joke forming in your mind about the bear helping a fox would be rather funny if you weren’t so immensely upset with him.

With a ragged sigh, you turn in the small space and stretch out your hand to him, eyes locking on a painting on the wall to evade his stare. You ignore the furor of goosebumps that invade your skin the second his touch is on you. Carmen’s hand holds you in the cocoon of his fist, thumb rubbing delicate circles beside the battered spot while he uses the paper towel to soak up all the blood. You reprimand your wayward beats for their reaction to his innocent touch and you have to constantly pull your wandering gaze from reaching the dangerous borders of his tightened jaw. His deep exhales fan the baby hairs resting at the bottom of your neck, his attention fixed on the small imperfection. His movements are slow, asking each muscle for permission to move the next, because having you this close after so long is a luxury he does not want to rush through, not if he’s never getting it again. 

Carmy understood your anger. He could feel it radiating off you in waves that bounced in the small space, but he also understood that he’s never had enough words to properly express the turmoil of everythingness swirling constantly inside his head. He wanted to let you know how hard it had been for him too. Confess the unhealthy amount of time he was spending at the restaurant- only going home to shower then leaving again- because he was afraid of the scent of your perfume and how it lingered on every breathable space in his home… apartment- not home- at least not since you had gone.

He focuses on swabbing the sanitizing wipe tenderly in hopes that his actions can transmit what he can’t say. The alcohol makes you hiss again and his eyes flicker to your frowned brows, mumbling a soft ‘sorry’.

He only lets go to tear open the gauze and some tape, then takes you in his grasp again to wrap your palm up safely. You expect him to let go once he’s done. To create as much needed space to fit the betrayal he portrayed the last time you saw him, this would only explain why he never called back. But he doesn’t. And he doesn’t look up at you either. Your stares meet on the flesh where his thumb still brushes over the blood-stained pit, your chest raises in slow puffs and the uninjured hand grips tightly over the edge hitting behind you. This is all too familiar again, right down to the brewing anxiety trickling heat into your overworked veins. You can't help but to foolishly crawl your pupils over the navy blue of his apron, past the strained tendons of his neck, the sharpness of his nose and to the beautiful blue you had missed so much.

Neither of you notice how the space has reduced to mere inches between you until his eyes flicker to yours and every single speck is bright and visible for your admiration. He swallows down hard, the Adam's apple bouncing in his throat portrays his nerves openly to you. The last reasonable, minute voice in his head tells him to pull away, but the way you’re staring up at him has his body tilting in your direction instead. Eyes wide and glossy dance around the freckles dusting his cheeks, causing his hand to float from your wrist to the dip of your waist and his forehead finally falls against yours.

You gasp in softly when his fingers dig into the center of your spine while his nose brushes along yours longingly. You can feel his sultry exhales ghost over the curve of your parted lips with doubt still present in his movements.

“Carmy…” The voice is above a whisper and you’re not sure you even have the strength to utter the sentence that’s formed in your head.

Your voice seems to trigger something in him. His jaw hardens, his fingers bunch up your shirt in a light fist and just as quickly, his grip on you loses strength and his hand falls to rest beside your fisted one. Then a grave sigh parts his chest and he takes a painful step back, unwilling to lift his eyes from the ground.

It takes a minute for you to react, then the butterflies in your stomach turn to wasps swarming in dangerous circles, unable to fly out due to the knot blocking your throat. He’s eerily silent, eyes glued to the floor to ignore your fiery glare.

“Sorry, I…” 

You scoff and shake your head, blinking rapidly to pull back the tears threatening to spill with your anger.

“Screw you, Carmen.” You untie the apron as quickly as you can with your injured hand and throw it at his desk before walking out of the small room.

With strong footsteps, you take your bag from above the lockers and escape out the back. The door slams hard as you push yourself out, Carmen following behind but by the time he calls your name you’re already a couple steps ahead.

“Fox!” He yells and you spin in his direction with nothing but anger over your face.

“Listen, I’m sor-”

“No-fuck you- you don’t get to talk, alright?! It’s my turn.” He takes a step back before crashing into you, jaw locked tight and regardless of the deafening ring in your ears, you refuse to bite your tongue again.

“Look Carmy, I am truly sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m so sorry that I’m here instead of your brother- but that does not mean you get a fuck-it-all free card and get to pull shit like that!” Tears of anger trickle down your heated skin and tickle the curve of your trembling lips.

“I called you Carmy…” The words burn as they force themselves to spill out. “I called you, and I texted you and I waited cause I knew you were pissed - and you have every fuckin’ right to be- but it doesn’t give you the right to kick me out of your life one second, then act as if everything’s fine the next, cause it’s not!”

The sounds of the city have grown mute between your heavy breaths and the erratic beating in your skull. You don’t expect him to answer and he doesn’t seem to have anything to say. He simply stands before you, eyes glossy and brows knitted as you bare all that you kept since the last time you saw him.

“I know you’re scared. And I know you’re angry and whatever this is-was-” You say pointing between you. “I know it didn’t come at a right time. But I meant what I said, Bear, I do love you. So fucking much. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair of you to take it out on me cause you’re angry at him… I refuse to be collateral damage for whatever the fuck you got going on.”

The weight over your chest might have shrunk, but it didn’t make you feel any less better than before, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. You want nothing more than to run to his side and kiss away the few stray drops that nest in the corner of his red rimmed eyes. You want to hug him tight until the loose pieces of his brokenness stick back together into one whole man, but the last of logic inside you knows that it would only serve as a temporary band-aid. So instead you offer a speck of a smile, just a soft curve that doesn’t reach your teary eyes.

“I love you, Carmy. So I dunno, give me a call when you sort it out- I know it’s more of a ‘when’ than an ‘if’ situation-… I think I’m stupid enough to answer.”

Carmen watches from his frozen position as you rub the tears away with the back of your hand, then the gravel crunches under your boots and in a few seconds you disappear around the corner. 

He has enough energy to slump over the crates by the wall and pull the crushed package of smokes from his back pocket. While the wisp of smoke swirls in the wind around him, he rubs his eyes until the image of your tear-soaked face blurs away behind the darkness. The gravel creeks again, heavy steps move from his left then settle with a groan beside him.

“I’m not in the mood, alright?” He says, eyes focused on the street at the end of the alley.

Richie doesn’t say anything, only takes out his own cigarette and joins his cousin in silence.

“Is there, um-” His voice is thick and wavering, barely holding on to controlled breaths. “Is there a name for… when you’re afraid of somethin’ good happening cause you think somethin’ bad’s gonna happen? ”

His thumb rubs anxiously over the same spot on his palm as he waits for Richie’s response.

“Fuck it, I dunno… life?” He takes a long drag, letting the exhale occupy the empty space in front of them. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah…” Then the silence falls over them again.

When his cigarette burns out, Carmy reaches for another, but before he can settle the lighter back down, Richie pulls out a small envelope from the pocket of his jacket and hands it to him. Carmy’s reluctant to take it, his eyes flicker between his cousin and the piece of paper, then he slowly reaches out.

“What’s this?”

“It’s from your asshole brother… R.I.P and whatnot.” Is all he says.

His hand trembles again, his breath short circuits and a new wave of dread nips at the back of his neck. He swallows hard and breathes in deep, bracing himself, before turning it over. ‘This day just keeps getting better…’

Chapter 12.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne, @beebslebobs, @harrysmatcha, @yum-yahgurt, @pussy-f41ry, @kirakombat and that’s it lmao

[ben-talks-art]

I like how Digital Circus seems to be Pro-kindness

Something I really liked in this episode of Digital Circus is the way the series seems to be cementing itself as a supporter of the act of being nice to others.

This probably sounds like a no-brainer, we should always try to be nice to others, but not every series is really that good at showing why.

A lot of times, "niceness" seems to be more of a tool used to hype up the main character of a story, showing them being helpful to others and solving their problems in order to send the idea of what a great person they are and how being nice to people makes you look good.

It's a way to get us to like and root for the main lead by saying straight to our face that they're a good person, and that when you're a good person, good things will come to you, as usually happens to protagonists.

The thing is... these types of stories usually happen to disguise the fact the protagonist doesn't have much personality besides "they're nice", and having the whole "be nice and good things will come your way" makes it seems like you should be a good person not because you are helping others, but because of the reward you might receive.

One of my favorite examples of a nice character is, the classic, Goku, the dude that can manage to be friends with anyone he meets, but they never make his kindness be his entire character nor do they make it be a cause for reward.

If Goku gets rewarded in Dragon Ball it's usually because he trained hard, used clever ways to solve his problems, or placed confidence in either his own skills or in the skills of his allies or friends.

The fact he's a super chill dude is just part of his appeal, not a tool to get us on his side.

Digital Circus seems to also have found a way to be pro-niceness in a non-exploitative way.

In this case, people who are kind are rewarded with Pomni's friendship. We're not using compassion to show why the main lead is so good, we're using it to show why the other characters are so good.

In the second episode, we see how she befriends that cowboy lizard candy guy, and in this one, we see her bonding with King and showing appreciation for Ragtha, and all it took was a little bit of love from all of them.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, we get Jax, the guy who shows no interest in being nice to anyone or interest in changing the way he acts.

I think this episode finally made me realize what his role is meant to be... He's Joker from "The Killing Joke."

The same way Joker in that story was trying to seek validation for being a terrible person by trying to prove anyone could end up as him if they just had one bad day, Jax seems to be on a quest to validate his jerk-ish behavior by trying to show there is no point in trying to be a good person since their situation is hopeless.

Some sort of way of absolving himself by saying "I'm not the problem! The world is the problem! The situation is the problem! Everyone else is the problem!", in an attempt to try and justify his refusal to be a nicer person.

Which is why it was so satisfying when we reached the ending and he was expecting Pomni to have become just as cynical as him, and she never did!

Something I really want to see being done with Jax is have him go through some sort of Obito moment, have him try to hold on to this comfort zone and refuse to be friends with others, refusing to be nice, refusing to allow himself to be vulnerable and let others help, and show parallels with Pomni as she gets better and better while growing closer to the others.

I want to see the series showing that even though they're all in some sort of "digital hell" (which is kinda what many people think their lives is anyway), it doesn't mean that they should give up, be it give up on others or themselves.

It would be cool if the point was to try and escape this place, but if the point is just to say "Happiness can be anywhere if you surround yourself with people who love you and if you do your best to love them", I would be okay with that too.

I'm happy that instead of using other characters to hype up Pomni, Pomni is being used to hype up other characters. The way they interact, grow, and show more about themselves to us has all been executed in very clever and very fun ways, and I can't wait for more!

I am very excited to see which direction this show chooses to go.