#if you knew what we had before you’d be shocked too
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yamumsyadadd · 2 days ago
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the forgotten girl (2)
posted originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)
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Amelia Scott-Higgins was a person a lot of people looked up too. The winner of the 2019 Ballon d’Or who was just 21 at the time. She was an inspiration on and off the field, so you can imagine everyone’s shock when she disappeared. Only a few know the gruesome details of her injuries, and those happen to be Barcelona players Lucy Bronze and Keira Walsh. Alexia Putellas had always admired her, as a person and a player. 
“Do you think we could convince her to join us? We need a striker and she is the best!” Jana excitedly said to Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid as they walked into the locker room. 
“No, she was the best. Past tense.” Ingrid said. 
“Ale you could totally convince her! You guys were friends no?” Jana’s words were loud through the quiet locker room. 
“Who are you convincing?” The English accent through the Spanish was still very clear to this day and unmistakably came from Lucy. 
“Amelia Scott-Higgins! She’s living in Barcelona and Ale used to be her friend! We need her Luce!” 
“No. Understand what I am about to say. No one here is to contact Milly and ask her to play. No one is to ask her to come to a game or to hang out. She has been through enough and you will all leave her the hell alone.” Keira spoke extremely firmly. No one has heard her talk like that before. 
“Kei, come on they don’t know.” 
“That’s exactly right Lucy. They don’t know. You all think she’s this amazing footballer and want her to play, but she went through some fucked up shit. She doesn’t want to play, she doesn’t want to watch. She wants to be left alone so that’s exactly what everyone is going to do: leave her alone.” The locker door slammed as Keira left. She would protect Amelia now, since she couldn’t before. 
Before it all happened, Keira, Leah and Amelia were inseparable. The group was formed at a football event the first year Amelia moved over to the UK, in 2014, at just 16 years old. Emily played with Man City, alongside Keira, Lucy and Georgia. Despite playing at different clubs, they always made time for each other. The unlikely friendship with Alexia Putellas started in 2017, after both signing with Nike and having to do a campaign. Both girls were socially awkward, they sat in silence for most the day until Alexia invited Amelia to dinner. From there on out, they were very close friends. 
Alexia struggled with the fame, Amelia did not. She was able to offer advice to Alexia, sharing ways to keep relationships private, or how to compartmentalise. Alexia didn’t even get a text off of Amelia when it all happened. She had flown to England to attend the funeral. A numb, bruised and bandaged shell of a friend stood before them all. 
“You knew Amelia?” Olga asked quietly over dinner the night after their run in. 
“Yeah. I knew both Amelia and Emily.” The sadness evident in Alexia’s voice. 
“Why’d she quit? I googled her. She won the Ballon d’Or and UEFAs best player. What happened?” 
“Her wife was murdered and she was hurt. I don’t even think I can begin to explain the type of player she was. She was easily the best player the world has ever seen. No matter what, she worked hard. She cared, if a person got hurt you’d know because Amelia was there first. After her opponents lost, she wouldn’t celebrate her win, she’d go around and tell them everything they did well, hug them and let them cry. I went to the funeral, she was just a shell. Covered in bruises and bandages, in a wheelchair. Then she just vanished. On the first anniversary of Emily’s death, she deleted every single social media she had, changed her number and quit football. I hadnt seen her since, apparently Keira and Lucy hadn’t either.” 
“that’s a lot for one person to go through. Where are her parents?” 
“Doesn’t have any. They died when she was little, from what she shared she was in foster care in Australia until they let her come to the UK”
“Maybe you should invite her for dinner? She could use a friend.”
“No. YOU should invite her. You’re someone who she doesn’t know and you two seemed to hit it off.” 
Olga didn’t tell Alexia, or anyone for that matter, but Amelia had followed her on instagram that night after they met. Seemingly on a private, almost anonymous account. Olga had no plans to force Amelia back into football or back into Alexia’s life, but the more she learnt the more she wanted to ensure she wasn’t alone in this world. 
Every morning, Alexia would run along the beach. It was usually quiet and calm since Spain generally didn’t wake up until later in the morning. Every morning, she would watch the same surfer. Scars scattered on her legs, one long scar from the back of her hip, across her torso. Alexia knew it was Amelia, but she never stopped to say hello, not until that morning. 
The morning that would change things. 
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whiskeyswifty · 2 years ago
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Sorry for being a piece of shit New Yorker for a second but my favorite collective experience this past year was every New Yorker eventually going to the new Laguardia airport and being totally gagged at the top of those escalators or by the new fountain. We truly live in squalor. we’re gagged over a decent airport, love us.
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badbtssmut · 4 months ago
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Magic Stick
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Jungkook is kinda sad because he has never been with a girl who could take him balls deep because of his size, reader doesn't believe him and she wants to see, but he tells her that he can't atm bc he's not hard. She is wearing this kinda halter top style with no bra so she looses the top and shows her tits to him and let's him touch them. After he's hard he shows her his dick and she says she's willing to try to take it all and she rides him into the sunset
Admin note: idea by anon
Contains: Big dick JK, handjob, some boobplay, missionary, riding, reader expresses that she is uncertain if it will fit, it takes some time getting it fully in ;), reader whimpers a bit, JK’s ex cheated on him, jk cums a lot
“What’s wrong with you?” You glanced over to your best friend, he has been in a horrible mood for a week and no one knew why. Not even your mutual friends knew what was up with Jungkook.
”It’s nothing.” He mumbled in response.
“Come on, I can tell something is bothering you.” You pushed.
"Fine. My girlfriend broke up with me.” He finally cracked.
"Wait, what?” You stood from the dining table, and inched closer to Jungkook who was sitting on the sofa. “Why’d she do that?" You question, shocked by the sudden news. "You two seemed so happy. What happened?"
"She… she was cheating on me.” He confessed.
"Are you fucking kidding me? What a bitch." You really couldn’t believe what you were hearing.
“Don’t blame her, I guess.” Jungkook said and shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't be silly. You’re too forgiving." You sighed.
"It's not that. The sex, my size— it just never worked out in bed. It was never a good fit." Jungkook confessed, a tinge of sadness in his voice.
"So, you're saying, she dumped you ‘cause of your dick size? The fuck? That's just shallow. Why would she do that?" You sat next to him.
"Yeah, it didn’t fit, literally. I’d hurt her, it wasn’t going to work out from the start. We tried a few times, but the whole experience was just awful. I guess she couldn't stand it anymore." He said, defeated.
“That doesn't make any sense, surely you aren’t that big? Are you sure she’s not just making excuses?” You couldn’t believe his ex would end things with him over his size.
"No, I am that big." Jungkook replied.
"Really?" You were skeptical.
"I've always had a big dick." He added.
"Show me."
"What?"
"Show me." You repeated. “I just want to know if you’re bullshitting or not.”
"No." He declined, looking at you as if you said the most ridiculous thing ever, clearly embarrassed by your request.
"Oh, come oooon, we are best friends. It’s not like I’ve never seen a dick before in my life." You rolled your eyes. "I'm not going to judge you, I promise. Just let me see."
"Fine." Jungkook sighed. "But… I’m not hard now.” He muttered.
“Will my boobs make you hard?“
“Hell yeah. You got great tits." He said, a bit too enthusiastic, as if he had been dreaming of the day you’d offer your tits in return to see his cock. You stood right in front of him, loosening the straps of your halter top. His mouth was slightly open, as he looked at you, completely mesmerized. You removed the straps from your shoulders and let the shirt fall to your tummy, revealing your breasts.
"Like what you see?" You teased.
"Yeah. Very much." He was nearly drooling at the sight.
"Want to touch them?"
"Fuck, yeah." He nodded, eager. You stepped closer and his hands were instantly on you. Squeezing your breasts, rubbing his thumbs on your nipples, taking it all in. When he was done caressing your tits with his hands, he started to suck and lick on them, at which you moaned softly, and the sound of it made him rock hard. He was definitely huge, you could see the tent forming on his pants.
"Are you sure you want to see it? It's… quite big." He was almost apologetic, as if his huge dick was some sort of inconvenience for others.
“I do, show me already.” You chuckled, not sure what he was being shy for.
"Okay." He nodded, unbuckling his belt, and lowering his jeans, together with his boxers.
Holy shit.
How was a dick that big even possible? You didn't even think that dicks like that actually existed. And it wasn't just long, but also thick. No wonder his ex broke up with him. You were pretty sure that dick wouldn't fit anywhere.
"Wow." You couldn't believe your eyes.
"Told you. It's big. You wouldn’t believe me." He shrugged.
"Can I touch it?" You asked, still unable to avert your eyes.
"If you want." He agreed, a little surprised but not put off by the idea.
You grabbed his dick and slowly moved your hand up and down his length, marveling at how big and heavy it was, how thick. His cock was truly impressive, and it seemed to get even bigger as you stroked him. You wondered what it would be like to take him.
“Wow. This is amazing. How can you fit this inside a girl?" You were truly impressed, and couldn't help but keep stroking his cock.
"I can't." He admitted, his breathing starting to quicken. “No girl can take it, they always start out confident but when it’s actually in… they can't take it. Not even halfway through. I have never met a girl that can take me all the way, even the ones that brag about having experience are not able to." He sounded dejected.
"I bet I can." You challenged him.
"No. You can't. There's no way." He scoffed. All of the girls said the exact same thing, and it never worked out, ever.
“Want to bet? If I can’t take it, I’ll give you 200 bucks.” You said, not convinced by his pessimism.
"200 dollars? That's a lot of money." He said, surprised by your proposal, but he shrugged. “But alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
"Are you sure about this?" He asked, for what seemed to be the hundredth time.
“If you ask me one more time… I will leave." You said, annoyed.
"Sorry. Just don’t want to hurt you." He apologized with a defeated sigh. It made you feel bad for getting annoyed, but Jungkook really had nothing to worry about.
You got this.
Jungkook held onto his cock as he pushed the head of it against your slick pussy lips. Your body tensed a bit, but he took his time, working on you slowly. You breathed deeply and relaxed, spreading your legs further as his shaft dragged against your sensitive skin. His cock was so hard and thick that it rubbed against every single inch of your folds.
Jungkook continued to move his hips back and forth, his errection dragging against your clit with each thrust. The sensation was amazing, and your body was trembling in pleasure, and he wasn’t even in yet.
The tip poked against your lower belly as he continued to rub the shaft against your pussy, his hips moving slow and steady.
“Want it.” You whined.
“Yeah?” He whispered.
"Yeah."
He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing the head against it. You tilted your head back, fuck, that was only the head, how could you feel this full already?
Jungkook began to slide his cock into your wet, aching pussy. His cock was stretching you out so wide, it felt incredible. He stopped when the head was all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust. Jungkook slowly pushed his cock deeper inside you, inch by inch. You could feel his cock filling up every inch of you, the stretch and pressure so intense, it was almost too much.
"Shit, you’re stretching me so good…” You moaned, as his cock kept going deeper.
"How are you taking it so well? I can't believe you can take it this far, pussy takes big cock so good, baby." He pushed in more, eager to fill you with every inch.
You couldn't speak, the sensations were overwhelming. It felt like your pussy was being stretched to its limits, and there was a pressure deep inside you that made your mind go blank.
Jungkook's cock was buried all the way inside you now. You were filled up completely, and it was the most amazing feeling you'd ever experienced.
"Don’t move,” It felt as if he would rip you in two if he pulled out even a little bit. "Not yet. Give me a minute." You whimpered, as you adjusted to his length and girth.
Jungkook nodded, kissing your neck, his hands cupping your breasts.
“This is how pussy feels, huh? Fuck, this is amazing. So tight, warm, perfect." He whispered against your ear, as he kept his dick deep inside. “It’s like my cock is being choked and squeezed, so good.”
“Told you… I could take it.” You said in a shaky breath, sitting up only to peek at where your bodies were joined, impressed to see how your body managed to take that monster cock in.
“You can move now." You gave him permission.
Jungkook started to move his hips back and forth.
The pressure from his dick was too intense, it felt like you were being split open, and you thought you were going to pass out from how good it felt. You held in your breath, unable to moan as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cock stretching you wide.
Whereas you were silent, Jungkook was grunting, groaning, panting, moaning, he couldn’t contain his pleasure. Jungkook was overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried deep inside you. His thrusts were slow and deep, his cock pushing against your inner walls, massaging them.
You opened your eyes and glanced at his face, he looked like he was in ecstasy, his mouth was open and he was moaning with every thrust.
His cock felt incredible, so big, so deep.
You had never felt anything like it before.
"I can't believe I'm fucking a pussy that can take my whole cock. Shit, it feels amazing. Pussy is so tight and wet. So fucking good. Never felt anything like it. Fuck!” Jungkook licked his bottom lip, picking up the pace.
Jungkook was pounding you now, his cock thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, hitting all the right spots. Fuck, you were seeing stars, your whole body was on fire.
You couldn't stop yourself from screaming in pleasure. You spread your legs as far as you possible could, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you. Jungkook continued his relentless rhythm, his thrusts were hard and fast, the sounds of his cock slamming into your pussy filled the room.
The feeling of his dick filling you up was indescribable, it was pure bliss.
“Want to ride you, want to sit on that cock." You needed to feel in control, and you wanted him to watch you as you sat on his massive dick.
Jungkook pulled out and laid down on the bed, his dick standing straight up, and you couldn’t wait to take it all again.
You straddled his hips, hovering above his erection and you slowly lowered yourself down onto his cock, gasping as it slid into you, the pressure and friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.
Jungkook's hands were on your ass, helping you move up and down on his cock. He was thrusting his hips upward, matching your rhythm, driving his dick even deeper into you.
"God, you look so hot riding my cock. Never would’ve thought to see this.” He bit his lip, his eyes roaming over your body.
"So big…” All you could think of was how his cock felt inside of you, how shallow it might sound… you couldn’t even think of the person attached to it.
Jungkook was now holding onto your hips, pulling you down harder onto his dick. His thrusts were strong, and fast, and it felt so fucking good.
"Fuck, I can't last any longer. Gonna cum soon." His thrusts became erratic and he was moaning loudly, his whole body shaking. You rested your hands on his chest, grinding against him, trying to match his rhythm.
"Y/N… like that, love it just like that." He moaned, his breathing unsteady, his fingers now gripping into your thighs.
“Yes, yes…” You whispered, riding his cock, feeling your own orgasm build up inside of you.
“Ah!” Jungkook beat you to it, his body stiffened as his cum spurted inside of you, filling you up. He was gasping for air, his face was flushed, and his grip on your hips loosened, he ran his fingers through his hair as he squirted his cum deep inside of you. It was as if he had a never ending supply of cum, shooting spurt after spurt, his cock throbbing as it emptied its load inside you.
“Keep going, y/n, you didn’t come yet, I’ll stay hard, take what you need, keep going." He encouraged, his breathing still shaky, his dick was still hard, and it was pulsating inside you.
"Yeah." You whispered, continuing to bounce on his dick, the feeling of his cum inside of you and the sight of him beneath you, sweaty, breathing hard, his hair sticking to his forehead, was so incredibly sexy. The sound of your drenched in cum pussy sucking him back in was loud, his cock coated in your juices and the cum that was spilling out of you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
You leaned back, resting your hands on his thighs as you moved up and down, faster, deeper, until you were finally climaxing, your orgasm taking over your body. Your body shook and your eyes fluttered open and shut as the warmth spread through your whole body, you had never felt anything like it before. You could feel the hot cum leaking out of you, and it just kept coming.
Your hips slowed as you rode out your orgasm, and when it was over, you collapsed onto the bed, panting.
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah?”
“You owe me 200 bucks.”
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yanderenightmare · 3 months ago
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♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation
♡ part one
♡ fem reader
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Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.
Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.
Oh no.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!”
He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.
No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”
He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”
The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?
He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.
“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.
But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”
There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.
“There is no going back now.”
His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.
He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”
It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.
He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!
He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”
No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?
You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.
You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…
Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.
As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.
Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.
Guess you’re both freaks.
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♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
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luveline · 5 months ago
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could you write plss write something about JJ’s confession and spencer is with bombshell reader and loves her entirely but she gets extremly scared and insecure??
Your usual confidence is shaken after JJ’s confession, but Spencer is emphatically in love with you. fem, 1.5k
Spencer gives you a rundown after every case. Not just as a colleague who missed it, but as his partner who he loves. This one comes out slowly. Maybe even reluctantly. 
He’s recounting the moment JJ had been forced to tell a secret. “She told me she’s always loved me, but that things are too complicated now.” 
You freeze in total bewilderment, your mug of hot tea swelling over the rim to warm your fingers. Further overwhelmed, you set it down on the coffee table. 
You’re in pyjamas on the couch. Spencer sits in sweatpants on the other end of it, his own cup of tea in hand. He’s watching you carefully. You’d felt generously comfortable only moments ago, riding the high of his continued survival, but now you’re feeling sick.. 
“She told you she loves you?”  
“That she was too scared to tell me before.” 
“And what do you think about that?” 
“I think if I never met you, I would’ve spent half of my life calling after her.” His lips quirk into one of those typical awkward Spencer smiles. “What should I think?” 
“I can't really tell you what to think, Spencer.” 
If he never met you, he’d still want JJ? Or if you weren’t in the way, he’d be with her now? Or what? 
You’ve never been the insecure type, to begin. You met Spencer when you were both rookies trying to establish themselves in the BAU, Spencer as a new member, and you as a hopeful applicant. Each time you liaised, or came around to annoy your good friend Derek Morgan, Spencer would be there, looking cute and lonely as ever. It was easy to become his friend. Easier again to fall in love with him. 
Not easy to convince him you truly wanted to be with him, but you were persistent, and… honestly, you’ve never been in love with someone like you have Spencer. That’s why JJ’s confession sends ice water down your back. 
He lets you steep for a few minutes, but ultimately can’t take the weird silence. 
“Hey,” he says, clear worry in his tone as he puts his own mug on the coffee table and moves to sit beside you, his hand falling onto your knee. “Hey, what’s that face about?” 
“What face?” you ask, schooling your expression. 
“That face.” His head tips to the side. 
“I’m not making a face.” 
“I know you…” he says, a tenderness to him as his hand slips under your leg, his fingers pressing into the softest skin behind your knee. 
“What else did she say?” 
He nods with understanding. “She said she was too scared to say it before, and that things are complicated now, I guess because everything’s changed so much.” 
“She has a family.” 
“Angel, even if she didn’t, you think that would make a difference?” He finds your hand for kissing. “What do you think I said to her? I love you. I told her I love you, she already knew that, but I told her again. I said there’s nothing complicated about it.” 
You stare at him. 
“Nothing complicated about it,” he repeats, pressing your kissed hand to his neck and covering it soundly with his own.  
You’re not expecting the insecurity of it. You and Spencer have never been on surer footing. Every day with him seems to guarantee the next. He just has to look at you and you know he’s your person, but you forgot he could just love somebody else if he wanted to. You forgot he even liked JJ to begin with. This sudden reminder is like having your legs kicked out from under you. 
You panic. 
“I love you,” he says, your hand moving down, pressed with fever to his chest. “More than anyone.” 
“I love you too… I just– I guess I thought JJ was my friend,” you say. 
“She is. She said she needed something that would shock the UnSub… I don’t think she expected anything to change. We just needed to get out of there.” 
He almost died and you’re thinking about JJ. Shit, JJ could’ve died. 
You bow your head. “I’m sorry.” 
“Oh, no, for what? For what?” He sandwiches you to his side. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair. It puts you in a bad position. But you don’t have anything to worry about, I love you, and I don’t have any feelings for JJ.” 
You wonder if that’s true. 
You’re being unlike yourself. Embarrassed, you hide your face in his collar and let him hug you gently. 
“Sorry.” 
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I have no idea what to do right now.” 
Insecurity isn’t your style, but it’s not something that can be helped. You have, through everything, pioneered desperately to put your best foot forward. You wear clothes ordered to fit and then tailored for good measure, you take care of your appearance in a way that others might find objectionable. Who you are outwardly is just as important to you as the inward, which makes this all the worse. You hate being out of control. 
Spencer can make it better, despite his insistence on cluelessness. “You know it could never be anyone else but you, right?” he asks softly. 
“Sorry, I’m just… I’m not angry because she didn’t have a choice, but do you really believe she didn’t mean it? She could’ve made up a hundred different lies.” 
“I think she meant it,” he says, still speaking softly. 
“You understand why that would freak me out, right? If you never met me, you could be with her.” 
“I can’t imagine a universe where we don’t meet,” he says. 
Spencer delivers it with that sincere yet shy honesty that he tends to say many things. Like it’s simple, like he’s aware of how cleanly cut it is, and like he’s worried you won’t agree with him. 
You try not to act so small, straightening your back, and sewing an arm behind his neck and over his shoulder. You’re not feeling a hundred percent just yet, and so you press your forehead to his cheek, his hair kissing your  ear. Spencer drags your leg across his thigh and lets you stew for a little while. 
“I don’t want to be with JJ.” He squeezes you closer, nearly has you in his lap. “Is that what you’re worried about? If I never met you, I wouldn’t want to be with her, because she had no interest in me, or– or maybe she did, but she didn’t show it. I know exactly what it feels like now to be loved without remorse, to– to never be told I’m too much. JJ is one of my best friends in the whole world, but you’re my heart. You’re the only person who’s ever liked me for me, all of me, even when I know it wasn’t easy.” 
“It’s always easy,” you murmur.
“That’s not the only reason I love you, but it’s important. JJ’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s such a good mom, but she’s not you. She could never be you, and I don’t want anyone that isn’t you.” 
You don’t want him to say cruel things about JJ and you’re glad when he doesn’t, but you definitely need his assurance that he prefers you. Then you feel silly, because it’s your bed he comes home to, your hip he’s caressing as he waxes poetic for you. 
You feel less like he doesn’t love you and more like you’ve made a fool of yourself for even suggesting it. “Am I your best friend?” you ask (childishly, depending on who you ask). 
“You’re my best friend. You’re the best friend. Every day I get to be with you is perfect.” 
“That’s really romantic,” you mumble, nearly not quite kidding as you rub the tip of your nose into his cheek. 
“You bring it out of me.” 
You sigh and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Thanks, Dr. Reid. I think you fixed me.” 
“You’re still making a face.” 
“You almost died today, baby. JJ isn’t the sole thing on my mind.” 
“Almost died is an exaggeration. We almost die all the time.” 
You sniff his hair at your discretion. When he holds you like he’s doing now, you realise you have no need to worry. How can he squeeze your soft sides and chase your nose with his if he doesn’t mean what he says? Spencer’s not like that. 
“I’m sorry I overreacted,” you say. 
“I don’t think you did. But would you feel better if I say it’s okay? Because it’s okay. I’m sorry for telling you something I knew would upset you, but we don’t–”
“Have secrets, I know.” 
You give him a teeny kiss by his ear. 
“Thank you,” he murmurs pleasantly. 
You press another right on top of the first. Slower, you peel away to stroke his hair. His eyes hold all the proof you need —you’re loved without competition. 
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hargreeves-duncan · 4 months ago
Note
Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too
a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!
summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.
warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️
word count: 1.4k
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You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.
The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 
Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.
There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.
You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.
The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.
It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.
As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”
You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”
Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”
She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”
Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”
She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”
The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…
“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.
A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.
Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”
Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.
When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”
Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.
Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.
Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”
Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”
You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.
You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”
Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.
Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“
The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.
“Y/N.”
You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.
God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.
Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”
His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”
You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.
After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”
Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.
He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”
It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.
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enhaheeseung · 4 months ago
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Innocence - L. Heeseung
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Pairing: heeseung x fem reader!
Warnings: smut, dirty talk, plus size reader, alcohol consumption, cursing, dirty truth or dare, unprotected sex, oral female receiving, flirting.
Note: hello, this work was requested by @idollemon @fumasthicc sorry for the long wait I hope you enjoy it! 💋
WC: 6,360k sorry for it being so long but I had to build up to it yk😅
Masterlist
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It was 9:23, and you were putting on the finishing touches to your makeup. You had decided to go with a casual look, considering you were just going to hang out with a mutual friend to have drinks and watch movies at his house.
Your best friend had been invited to a house party by her friend named heeseung, and she asked if you wanted to tag along, so you agreed you didn’t have shit else to do anyways.
You knew she was only going cause Jake was going to be there, but you figured a night out wouldn’t be so bad, so you decided to accompany her, even though she’d most likely ditch you for him.
But, it was a good excuse for you to see her very hot best friend, heeseung. You hadn’t seen him around much cause you weren’t friends with him. You only knew him cause of your best friend, but those few encounters were enough for you to catch some type of feelings.
You’d never say it out loud or let anyone know, but you had a tiny little crush on him. He was tall and cute with a charming smile.
And not to mention, every time you saw him, he looked absolutely fuckable.
That’s another thing you’d never say out loud.
If your friend ever knew you thought about him like that, she’d be absolutely stunned because….
You were innocent.
At least to her and your friends, you were.
You were what most people would call the innocent type. You didn’t attend many parties. You always dressed modestly, and any time a dirty joke would get made, you’d just blush and stay quiet, not entertaining those types of things.
So if she or any of your friends knew that you wanted to fuck their best friend, it’d come as a complete shock.
You took one last look in the mirror until you were satisfied. You got a text from your friend that was notifying you that, apparently, it was going to be a sleepover since everyone would be drinking.
You responded with a thumbs-up and packed an overnight bag for the now sleepover.
Good thing heeseung lived in a mansion cause you could get your own room and not have to sleep on the couch or in the living room sprawled out all over your drunk friends.
Oh, the memories.
You arrived at his place a few minutes later than you had planned. Everybody had already settled in, and they were drinking from red plastic cups.
“There she is!” Your friend ran over to you and gave you a side hug.
“Here I am!” You smiled and hugged her back.
Jake, Jay, and yeonjun greeted you with smiles. You were close to them, so you didn’t need any introduction.
“Hey,” you greeted them back while someone watched you from across the island on the opposite side of the kitchen.
Said person took a few more steps until he was face to face with you and your best friend with his hand in his pocket and a drink in the other. “So tell me, who's your friend?” You looked over when you heard the voice and met eyes with heeseung briefly.
“Oh my gosh! You’re totally right. You two have never even met before,” your friend gasps at the realization, “Okay, heeseung, This is y/n, and y/n, this is heeseung,” she pointed back and forth between the both of you.
“Nice to finally meet you, y/n.” He reached his hand out from his pocket, and you shook it gently.
“You too,” you managed to say without stuttering at the pretty smile he gave you.
He brought your hand closer to his face and pressed a soft kiss there, gazing up at you while he did so.
You did your best not to get flustered, and thankfully, Jake saved you from the awkward moment that would have come.
“You didn’t kiss my hand when we first met,” Jake pouted playfully. You could tell he already had one too many drinks.
“Me neither,” Jay sassily stuck his hand out to Heeseung, waiting for a kiss.
Heeseung let go of your hand and rolled his eyes at the two, slapping both of their hands away from him.
You giggled slightly at the interaction. While you were getting to know heeseung, your friend had already left you to get herself another drink.
“Ignore those two,” heeseung spoke up to you again. “You want a drink?” He offers.
“No thanks, I’m good.” You politely declined.
“Oh, come on,” The offer did sound kinda good, but you shook your head softly. “Pleaseeeee, I make the best drinks ever” he whined cutely and when he said it like that, how could you say no?
“Okay, but just one,” you agreed, and he led you to his personal drink station on the kitchen counter.
“You won’t be saying that after I’m done with you,” he winked playfully, and you’re not sure if that comment was referring to the drinks or something sexual, but you just went along with it.
“We’ll see,” you smiled.
He was right cause just fifteen minutes later. He had already made you three more. “See, I told you,” heeseung said while smiling at you.
“I can’t lie. This is actually the best drink I’ve had in a while” He smiles at that and takes a seat next to you.
“How come we’re only just now meeting?” He says, resting his elbows on the counter and looking at his other friends drinking and talking.
“That’s a good question. I really don’t know either.”
“I think I know,” he chuckled, and you looked at him quizzically. “You’re always so shy and quiet.”
He was kinda right. Usually, when you’d hang out, you were always the quiet one in your friend group. In your defense, they were just a bit more on the wild side. “Am I?”
“Yeah, I wanted to say hi to you a few times a while back but decided against it cause I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything like that,” he explained, taking a small sip from his own cup.
“Really? I wouldn’t have minded talking to you though” You’re blaming the alcohol for that statement, damn you, heeseung, and your ability to make the best aqua velva on earth.
“Yeah?” He smirked and turned to look at your flushed face. And you liked to say it was the alcoholic beverage in your system making you heat up, but it wasn’t
Before anything could escalate any further, Jake was practically screaming in both of your guy's ears.
“Who’s ready to spin the bottle?” He shook yours and Heeseung’s shoulders a little too hard.
You looked over, and you could see heeseung rolling his eyes and sighing. “We’re not teenagers anymore.” He pushed Jake's hand off his shoulder and did the same for you.
“Come on, hee d-don’t be a party pooper at your own party,” Jake slurred his words.
Out of all times, Jake could talk to him. He picked the absolute worst he was just starting to make some type of progress with you, and this drunk idiot had to go and fuck it all up. “Fine, but stop screaming in my fucking ear, will you?”
“To the living room!” Jake shouted, and everyone else cheered and clambered to the living room to play spin the bottle with an empty Hennessy bottle.
Once you all gathered in a circle, Jake, of course, was the first one to spin the bottle. You were kinda nervous about playing, not knowing exactly what questions or dares would be asked, but it seemed fun, so you relaxed a little and watched as the first spin landed on Jay. Jake smiled wickedly at Jay, and you could tell what direction this game was headed in right away.
“Why me?” Jay whined.
“Truth or dare?” Jay answers with truth, too dizzy to get up and do a dare.
“If you could have sex with any of us, who would it be?” Jake says.
Jay groaned but answered nevertheless. “Myself,” he buried his face in his hands, attempting to wipe off the drunkness.
“Lame,” Jake mumbled.
“How? Do you not see all of this?” Jay pointed to himself, and Jake fake gagged, or maybe it was real, given the drinks he had.
It was now Jay's turn to spin the bottle, and it landed on heeseung, making you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay, I got a good one,” Jay says and makes a silly face. “Truth or dare.”
“Dare,” heeseung muttered, obviously unamused by the game, and the last thing he was going do was say truth.
“I was hoping you’d say that” Jay looked at you whilst smiling evilly, and you panicked. Why the hell was he looking at you, and it wasn’t even your turn yet? “Heeseung, I dare you to moan in y/n’s ear for ten seconds.”
Heeseung’s eyes went wide as saucers as they met yours. That were just as wide. No wonder Jay was looking at you like that. What a little shit you thought. “What kind of dare is that?” Heeseung asks what the hell did Jay gain from embarrassing him in front of you.
“It’s one you’re about to do now, chop chop,” Jay clapped his hands.
You blushed at just the thought, and you felt tingles in the pit of your stomach. You hated to think like this, but you actually weren’t opposed to the idea. You didn’t want to make Heeseung uncomfortable, so you interjected.
“Well, we just met, so I thi-” Jake immediately interrupted.
“Y/n shut up, heeseung moan,” Jake cut you off while you and heeseung both glared at him.
Heeseung looked at you for approval, and you nodded softly as he scooted closer to you. You could feel his breath fanning across your ear, and you got goosebumps all over your body.
The whole group cringed but laughed at the same time as they watched you becoming more and more flustered by the second.
Heeseung was nervous, to say the least. What if you thought he sounded disgusting? What if you were grossed out? What if you thought he was mimicking a dying whale, and you wouldn’t want to talk to him after tonight?
Ultimately he said fuck it, it was a dare, not the end of the world, even if it felt like it.
The first moan was more like a shaky breath followed by a tiny whimper, and your head was already spinning just imagining how much hotter he’d sound behind closed doors.
You couldn’t help but bite your lip cause if you didn’t, you would have moaned yourself. You looked around and saw the whole friend group laughing at the scene, but you didn’t care. You were too focused on the way he sounded as he was now full-on moaning and almost grunting in your ear.
You discreetly rubbed your legs together as he finally pulled away from you after what was probably a little longer than ten seconds.
He leaned back and saw your flustered face, and that let him know that you, in fact, did not think he sounded like a dying whale, and he was thanking the stars.
Heeseung cleared his throat, quickly moving on with the game and spinning the bottle. He smiled at Jay just as evilly. Now, it was time for his revenge. “Truth or dare?”
Jay gulped, knowing he was fucked either way. “Truth and dare,” he said, making you giggle as he downed the rest of his shot.
Heeseung just shook his head at his very stupid friend. “Look at yeonjun and make your orgasm face.”
You turned to heeseung for the first time since he completed his dare. “That’s evil,” you giggled.
“Not evil, just payback.” He smiled and winked at you.
You would have lived happily ever after if it wasn’t for the sight in front of you. Jay had his mouth parted, and his eyebrows creased together while looking at yeonjun, who looked at him horrified like the rest of you.
Luckily, it only lasted a few seconds cause if it had gone on any longer, you would have all been blind.
It was yeonjuns turn to spin the bottle, and it finally happened it landed on you. “Truth or dare, my precious little y/n?” He said sweetly, but you knew his intentions were not as sweet.
Heeseung discreetly rolled his eyes after hearing the nickname yeonjun gave you.
“Dare?” You said more of a question as you squinted your eye.
“Perfect, I dare you to look at the person to your left” fuck, heeseung was to your left. “And eat a banana as sexily as possible.” He clapped his hands. He noticed heeseung had been shamelessly checking you out all night, so he decided he’d do him a little favor cause he wasn’t an asshole like Jay.
Your jaw dropped to the floor. How the hell were you gonna do that?
Jake did the honors and came running back to the living room with a banana. “Y/n, you don’t have to-, “Heeseung tried to speak.
“Heeseung, you’re not her dad. She can speak for herself,” Jay butted in.
“It’s fine. It's just a dare, right?” You said to heeseung as you peeled the banana.
“Right,” he breathed out. He couldn’t lie. He was probably more excited about this than Jake was about playing Spin the Bottle.
You turned your body to face him fully. You swirled your tongue around the tip teasingly, and you saw heeseung visibly gulp. You laughed shyly and began licking the banana, pretending it was his shaft instead. Once you defiled the poor banana, you took half of it in your mouth with your lips wrapped tightly around it. You blinked your eyelashes while doing so, loving the expression on heeseung’s face as he watched you.
“Fuck” he cursed under his breath. His eyes had already darkened, and he had his lip caught between his teeth.
Finally, you ended your little show as you pulled off the banana with a quiet pop sound.
The room had gone completely silent, and you looked around to see all the boys gawking at you with their mouths hanging open. “Hope you enjoyed the show” You winked at Yeonjun.
Heeseung couldn’t help but to think maybe you weren’t as innocent as you were letting on, and boy, would he do anything to find that out after seeing you suck on that banana.
“Okay, now I’m hard,” Jay jokingly said, and heeseung glared at him while Jay lifted his hands up in defense.
You spun the bottle next, and it landed on your best friend. “Truth or dare?” You already knew what you had planned for her if it was dare.
“Dare,” she chimed.
Perfect. You thought.
“I dare you and Jake to play seven minutes in heaven.” She blushed instantly and looked at Jake, who was already blushing and smiling.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jake stumbled as he sat up and dragged her to the nearest closet.
“Why couldn’t I get that dare?” Jay groaned.
“Cause you don’t deserve it.” You stuck your tongue out at him.
“You better hope this bottle does not land on you,” Jay murmured as it was his turn to spin the bottle once again.
Unfortunately, it did, and you sighed, picking truth this time. “So, y/n, when’s the last time you’ve touched yourself.” He smirked.
Why was he doing this to you?
You grew flustered. Did you really have to answer truthfully? There’s no way he’d know the real truth. “A month, maybe longer,” you lied.
“Aww, I should have known our little angel is too innocent for that,” you giggled nervously, thankful that none of them seemed to have detected your lie.
Heeseung again rolled his eyes. Why was everyone all over you tonight?
Your friend and Jake had just come back from the closest, and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other ever since the dare you gave them.
After a few more spins and unmentionable dares, you all decided to call it quits for the night and watch a movie instead, seeing how everyone but you and heeseung were drunk out of their minds. You were both still a little tipsy, though.
You all decided to change into comfortable clothes before starting the movie.
Jake was sitting with your friend, Jay was on the rocking chair while you and heeseung sat at the back on the couch, and Yeonjun decided to lie on the floor for some odd reason.
About an hour into the movie, you had covered yourself with a sheet that heeseung had lying around. You felt something land on your thighs, and you looked down to see that heeseung had rested his head on your lap.
Within an hour of the movie, heeseung started to get a bit sleepy and rested his head on what he thought was the couch until he felt your thick thighs tensing under his head slightly at the contact.
All the lights had been turned off. Therefore, he couldn’t see where he was laying his head.
He was just about to move, but he stayed there for a few seconds longer to see what your next move would be when he felt your body relax under his head. He took that as a sign that you didn’t mind him being there.
About five minutes later, you felt his head shifting a little as he peeled the sheet down, and you could feel his teeth grazing against your thigh before he nibbled on the plump flesh gently.
Your body twitched a little, and you nearly moaned at the slightest contact.
Again, he took this as a sign and continued to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, and this time, you did accidentally moan out loud.
You quickly covered your mouth and panicked as you looked around, praying that no one heard you, and once you saw all of them focused on the movie, you breathed a sigh of relief.
Heeseung’s ears perked up at the sound of your sweet little moan.
As you instinctively ran a hand through his hair he turned around in your lap so he could face you, looking up at you and completely forgetting about the movie that was playing.
He lifted up the thin sheet and put it over his head, burying his face in your clothed cunt, inhaling the scent of your sweet arousal.
You bit your lip to conceal every noise that threatened to come out. You could feel him nosing at your clit, stimulating you through the fabric of your silk sleep shorts. You patted yourself on the back for deciding not to wear any underwear tonight.
He gripped your hip, squeezing it softly as he hummed lowly from your scent, invading his senses and the feeling of your plump waistline in his palm.
You pushed the back of his head closer to your core and spread your legs open wider, giving him a silent hint. He immediately flattened his tongue and licked over your silk shorts, and he could already feel your legs trembling beside his head.
He continued licking and sucking through the fabric, teasing your clit until the front of your shorts were damp with his saliva.
You quickly grew needy from that alone, and you needed to feel more of him. He seemed to read your mind as he slipped your shorts to the side and resumed his activities, swirling his tongue over your nub.
He wanted to tell you how good you tasted and how sweet your juices were on his tongue, but he couldn’t pull away for even a second.
You could feel his warm breath blowing against your bare pussy, sending shockwaves throughout your core as he sucked on your clit, pulling the sensitive flesh between his soft pink lips.
You spread your legs open instinctively, giving him more room to work with.
He moves his head closer to your body to get a better angle so he can use his fingers and his mouth to please you.
You had to cup your mouth when he stuck one of his thick fingers in your tight, wet hole. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head from the feeling of his digit pumping in you slowly.
He placed gentle kisses on your pubic bone, occasionally flicking his tongue over your clit as he added a second finger.
He curled his fingers upwards, brushing against the spot that made your stomach tense with pleasure as your toes started to curl. He focused on your clit, giving it a few teasing licks before latching his mouth on the bud and sucking on it, then swirling his tongue. He transitioned between each movement while digging his fingers deeper and deeper inside you.
It had been possibly five minutes before you could feel yourself getting close. Your legs were shaking, and he could feel your walls squeezing around his fingers.
He dug his nails into your side and sped up the pace of his digits. Seconds later, your hole was clenching tightly around his fingers as you came without any warning.
You ran your fingers through his hair as he slowed down and caressed your walls gently until you finished.
He applied a few more gentle kisses, and even though you had just came, you still wanted more as you bucked your hips into his face.
He smirked to himself.
So much for you being innocent, he thought.
With the unbearable throbbing between his legs, the only thing he had on his mind was fucking you into oblivion all night. He’s just been waiting for an opportunity to get you alone so he could feel your pussy. He just knew you’d feel so good, so creamy and wet, and that thought just made him even harder.
He pushed you back lightly by your hip and sat up. You were already about to protest, but he put a finger on your lips, shushing you.
He made an excuse to get you both alone, rushing out the fact that you were tired and he was going to show you your room. Everyone just murmured back in response. Apparently, they were still drunk.
Heeseung practically dragged you upstairs by your wrist and led you to one of his guest rooms on the far end of the hall, furthest away from the living room.
Without saying anything, he locks the door behind him and turns back to you, gripping your waist tightly while he moves in for a kiss somewhat between rough and gentle.
He groans against your mouth and presses your body as close to his as possible, moaning quietly when his cock brushes against you.
You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him in close. The action makes him stumble slightly from the force, and with that, he breaks the kiss and pushes you back on the bed gently, taking in your disheveled state, your hair now messy and your shorts riding up your thick thighs, leaving little to his imagination of what you looked like under them.
You whimpered from the way he looked while standing above you. You began feeling impatient with him not doing anything, resulting in you seeking any type of friction as you rubbed your thighs together.
He could only smirk at how needy and desperate you were, and he couldn’t help but wonder how all your friends thought you were so innocent, yet here you were, spreading your legs for him and silently asking for him to fuck you.
“You look so good like this.” He leaned down on the bed and trailed his fingertips along your legs softly. “All needy for me.” His fingers inched dangerously high as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs.
“Please,” you whimper, and you almost feel embarrassed by how easily you begged for him on just the first night of officially meeting him.
He didn’t respond, only cupping his hand over your mound, lightly stroking your throbbing cunt through your shorts.
You gripped his wrist and immediately guided his hand back and forth on your clit.
He chuckled softly, watching your face twist in pleasure. “So naughty,” he cooed while maintaining eye contact with you.
His words were drowned out by the pleasure just his hand was bringing to you, and you lifted your hips off the bed, practically fucking yourself against his palm.
It wasn’t long before he felt himself caving in at just the sight of you. His pants felt extremely tight after seeing you use his hand to get yourself off. “Fuck” he muttered to himself, adding more pressure to press against your clit rougher.
“Fuck heeseung,” you moaned loudly as his palm ran along your clit just right, and the way you moaned his name was nothing but pure music to his ears.
“That feels good, yeah, baby?” You bit your lip as your eyes rolled back into your head at his slightly teasing tone. “Gonna fuck my hand until you cum?” You were too close to respond. Instead, you did exactly that and rutted yourself on his palm as you came and cried his name out hoarsely. “You know, y/n, you’re really not as innocent as I thought,” he spoke while he kept his hand in place so you could ride out your high.
You whined in embarrassment, but you still didn’t stop rolling your hips on his palm.
“Here I am thinking you’re the sweetest little thing on earth, just so shy and quiet, but here you are getting off just from my hand like a needy little slut” He finally pulled his hand away, and you squeezed your legs together only for him to forcefully spread them back open. “Don’t bother. You’ll be spreading them again anyways.” He quickly stripped himself of his shirt and pants.
You watched him through your spread legs, clenching down around nothing as you saw his tent beneath his grey boxers. Your brows furrowed at the sight, and you blushed when you saw him smirking at you teasingly.
He slowly lifted his hand to the front of his underwear, ghosting his hand over the crotch part. His expression mirrored yours, and he bit his lip at the feeling.
Your hands gripped at the bedsheets, toes curling as he continued to touch himself before your eyes. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed him so badly.
He slowly pulled the waistband down, eyes never leaving yours as he gave you the tiniest peak of the base of his dick.
Your mouth was watering by now, and his teasing was driving you insane. He smiled at your expression, letting the fabric of his waistband snap against his hips as he let out a low whine from the slight sting.
“Please,” you let out with a shaky breath, not sure what you were even begging for. All you knew was you needed him to touch you.
“On one condition,” he says in a low voice as he hovers over you on the bed while you nod frantically. “Beg,” he whispered, and you clenched around, nothing again, feeling a trail of arousal dripping from your hole.
“Please, heeseung,” you said, too turned on to even care how desperate you sounded.
“More.” He bit his lip and spanked your inner thigh, causing you to let out a whine.
“Fuck me. Please need to feel your cock inside me so bad” You were squirming on the bed as you grew more desperate with every second that went by.
“More.” He spanked your thigh again, watching the flesh jiggle with each slap.
You were so close to tears, but you managed to do your best to get him to fuck you. “I need you so bad,” you breathed shakily. “Need you to fill my pussy up with your huge cock, and cum deep inside me, please, please, please.”
He groaned at the sound of your desperate, pleading voice. You were the furthest thing from innocent, and he was going to make you say it out loud. “Clothes off,” he said impatiently, finally pulling down his underwear.
You scrambled to take off your clothes, leaving yourself completely naked in front of him on the bed.
“So pretty,” he said as he positioned himself between your legs, finally letting you get a feel his hard throbbing cock rubbing against your wet core, causing you to moan loudly. “If I had known you were this much of a slut, I would have fucked you so much sooner” You spread your legs open further as he rolled his hips into you collecting your juices with his cock.
Your head already felt dizzy, and just the slow drag of his dick on your pussy was about to make you cum for the third time tonight.
He laid on top of you before grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist securely. “I know you would have let me too,” he teased you as he pushed his tip at your entrance but never fully inserted himself.
“You have no shame, you know?” He whispered in your ear. “Letting me fuck you, and we only just met hours ago” He moved his hand from your leg and stroked your cheek. “How do you think your friends would feel if they knew their precious y/n was begging to get fucked?”
You shied away from his touch, feeling slightly embarrassed by his words yet turned on at the same time.
“Hmm, baby? How would they feel knowing you’re so desperate for my cock that you couldn’t even finish the movie first” His voice was far sweeter than the words he spoke into your ear.
“Heeseung,” you choked out, eyes rolling in your head from all his teasing, and you couldn’t take anymore.
“What was it Jay called you?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.
“A-angel,” you muttered while trying to move your hips with his.
“Ah, that’s right,” he chuckles, almost like he’s mocking you. “Well, baby, if you’re an angel, what does that make me?” He didn’t give you time to answer before sinking his cock into you slowly.
You gripped his biceps tighter, feeling his muscles flexing as he held onto your thigh tightly. “Oh, heeseung,” you cried out, digging your nails into his flesh while he nestled his cock head inside you.
Your mouth was parting slightly while you panted heavily, trying to adjust to him stretching you out so far. “Goddamn baby, you’re so tight,” he grunts loudly as he feels your walls already throbbing around his length, making it nearly impossible for him to think straight.
“You’re so fucking big,” you slurred your words, already feeling dumb with the way his dick was sliding in and out of you so deliciously.
He smirked at your compliment and buried himself to the absolute hilt. “Such a dirty little mouth” He sat up on his knees and gripped your thighs so he could dig his cock deeper inside you.
You clawed at his chest. He was so deep that you could barely take it as your walls clamped down around him. “So damn tight, baby” He held back a moan and picked up the pace, thighs slapping against yours with every strong, perfectly angled thrust.
You held his waist as he plowed into you, and you couldn’t help but scream out his name. “Shh baby, unless you want them to know just how much of a whore you are for me,” he grunted out, never letting up on his frantic pace.
You didn’t even bother to hold in any moans. It was impossible with the way his thick cock felt, massaging your walls.
He moved his hands from your legs to cup your breasts, kneading them softly. “God, you take it so well,” he mutters, watching how your wet cunt swallows his big cock with ease. “You’re soaking, baby. Am I making you this wet?” He had that same teasing smirk on his face.
“Yes, all for you,” you cried out.
“So much for being innocent,” he chuckled, now hitting your spot with his thick, leaky tip.
You moaned, your body shaking with nothing but pleasure as he rubbed your nipples in small circles, overstimulating you. “I am,” you stutter out, even though you felt nothing of the sort.
“Oh baby, the look on your face and the way your slutty pussy is clenching on me tells me otherwise” He brought his hand to your mouth and rested his thumb on your bottom lip. “Open.” You pleased him greatly when you opened up immediately after and allowed two of his fingers to rest on the back of your tongue. “Suck on them,” he instructed, and you began to swirl your tongue obediently. You sucked on his fingers just like you did with the banana earlier. “Such a good little whore listening to whatever I say” He watched your drool leaking down your face as you nearly choked when he pressed down on the back of your tongue. “Letting me do what I want with you.
He busied his other hand on your clit while you sucked on his fingers with your eyes locked on his.
You moaned around his digits when he pressed down on your sensitive clit with his fingers and rubbed your nub in tight, fast circles. “Keep sucking” You continued to moan around his fingers as you squeezed his dick harshly with your aching cunt. “Gonna cum?” You nod your head as best as you can while your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. “That’s it, pretty, cream, my cock” His eyes flicked down at your pulsating pussy, and he lost it as he saw your creamy essence coating his dick. “Fuck, I’m close,” he moaned, and just the image in front of him drove him insane, your mouth stuffed with his fingers and your pretty pussy filled with his cock. “I’m so close.” his voice sounded just the same as earlier when he moaned into your ear, but in this setting, it was even hotter somehow.
The feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers and the repeated clenching of your tight cunt was the last straw. He finally let go releasing his cum into you with loud moans of your name. “Shit, this feels so good,” he whimpers as his hips start to lose rhythm, and he stills inside you, filling you to the brim until your little used cunt is dripping all his seed.
He removed his fingers from your mouth and lowered his weight on top of you, messily kissing you while his heavy breath mixed with yours into the sloppy kiss.
You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to you. He raised his eyebrows at your sudden boldness and chuckled against your lips as you nibbled on his bottom lip. He parted for a breath of air and quickly glued his lips back onto yours.
When he finally pulled away from you, he was panting as he pecked your forehead and pulled out of you carefully.
He rolled over on his back and sighed as the cold sheets met his hot skin.
After a few moments of silence, he got up from the bed and went to the bathroom, grabbing a warm towel to clean you off with. “Was I okay? I didn’t go too rough, did I?” He asks with concern hoping it was enjoyable for you too.
You only smiled, wondering how his mood could change within the blink of an eye. “No, it was perfect.” You watched a look of relief overtake his features.
“I’m glad,” he muttered, and he somehow looked shy as he gently cleaned between your legs. He kissed your thigh gently once he was finished and then pecked your lips one last time. You smiled to yourself as he returned back to the bathroom.
He came back out a few seconds later and started getting dressed; once he was done, he sat back down next to you on the bed. “I should go before they notice that I’ve been gone,” he whispers to you while stroking your cheek with his thumb as you settle into bed.
“Okay,” you say a bit reluctantly. You really wished you could cuddle him all night, but he was right. Your friends would become suspicious, and the last thing you needed was to explain to them what happened, especially since you and heeseung had just met.
“I’ll come back later when everybody has gone to sleep.” You couldn’t believe your ears. You thought it was just a simple exchange and nothing more, but he actually wanted to come back? While you were caught up in your thoughts, he took your silence as you not wanting him to come back. “O-or not, I just thought maybe after you know, you might want me to sta- I don’t know,” he breathed out as he picked at his nails, refusing to make eye contact with you.
You softly gripped his chin, tilting his head and making him look up at you. “I’d love it if you came back later.” You smiled and closed your eyes slowly to kiss him one last time.
“Really?” He asked once he leaned back from the kiss and fluttered his gleeful eyes open.
You nodded softly, and he smiled. “Okay,” he hopped out of bed and grabbed a shirt from his drawer, and handed it to you. “I’ll sneak you some water in a few” He tucked the covers up over you as you yawned, feeling sleep settling its way into your system.
He slowly backed away from the bed and blew you one last kiss before shutting the door and muttering a small goodnight to you.
“Goodnight, heeseung.” You laid your head flat on the bed, a small smile etched on your features.
Tomorrow could only tell what’s in store for you and heeseung, but right now, you were just happy your friend invited you to a hang out with her hot best friend.
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Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️
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d4yl1ghts · 6 months ago
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late escapes (1)
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benedict bridgerton x shy, fem!reader
summary: the second bridgerton son finds you outside and an unlikely spark flies between you two
warnings: mentions of anxiety, anxiety attack (not really though)
A/N- i promise the next fic i post will be anthony guys
part 2
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Attempting to catch your breath from the bustling atmosphere of the ball, you decided to breathe in some fresh air. You leaned against the wall as your breathing gradually yet slowly decreased. As you thought back to the overwhelming outfits and decor, your heartbeat raced in fear. You were personally never one to enjoy the events of the social season. They usually left you feeling rather anxious and breathless.
Hiding behind a boundless and beautifully engraved pillar, you silently cleared your mind and opened your eyes and noticed a chestnut-haired and handsome man staring at you in concern from across the garden. Once you had made eye contact, he decided to make his way toward you. “You look like you’re having a tough time over there.”, he called as he made his way over. It was almost teasingly but once he noticed your forced laughter, he stopped.
“Are you alright… Lady Y/N, I believe?”, he questioned. “Yes, I was just in need of some fresh air and time alone, Mister Bridgerton.”, you admitted. “Oh, I’ll go back inside then.”, he chuckled slightly. “No, it’s fine. Sorry.”, you laughed awkwardly. “Well, I thought I would come out here to escape the mamas, they’re so pestering and irritating, I needed to escape them.”, he huffed playfully as he recalled the interaction. You giggled as you imagined it. “I don’t think you can blame them.”, you replied, not acknowledging the meaning behind the words.
Benedict stared at you and smirked charmingly. “I know. A handsome man who is a talent at art. Who can blame them?”, he repeated your words from earlier with a cocky smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes as your cheeks flushed slightly but thankfully the dim lighting hid it. “You enjoy doing art?”, you questioned. “That is what I just said. No, I’m only joking. Yes, I do a lot of art in my free time.”, he nodded his head. “Wow, I never would have took you to be an arts man.”, you responded as you smiled at him.
“Really? Why not?”, he truly wanted to know but he mostly wanted to keep talking with you. “I don’t know, I thought you’d enjoy horse riding perhaps.”, you answered, not really knowing how to respond- you simply were just shocked by the fact and you didn’t know why. “Oh, I do enjoy horse riding, just not as much as art.”, he sent a gentle smile your way. “Do you have any passions?”, he asked. “I suppose I do enjoy reading and playing the piano.”, you confessed shyly. “My sister, Eloise, enjoys reading, I’m sure you would get along well and my other sister, Francesca, enjoys the pianoforte.”, he stated as he gazed thoughtfully into the distance. Were you going to meet his family in the future?, you thought to yourself.
“Yes, you do have a few siblings, is it seven or eight?”, you asked as you took in his features whilst he looked the other way. Grey-blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight and his perfectly swept chestnut hair. He was quite the man. You weren’t sure how he hadn’t caught your eye before. Perhaps you were too focused on escaping the event to notice him.
“Eight.”, he simply answered.
Abruptly, he turned back to face you and noticed you sitting there idly as you absorbed his facial structure. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “Shall we return to the ball? We can hide in a corner together so I can escape the hunting mamas and you can escape the attention.”, he offered. You smiled at that. He was so understanding, he just automatically knew how you were feeling and you had only known him for a few minutes (or so it felt like it). Time flies when you’re having fun, as they say.
“I would love to hide away in a corner with you, Benedict.”, you replied innocently. Benedict attempted to contained his laughter but failed. He simply laughed at you as you realised what you said. “No.”, you said as you giggled and headed back inside to hide in a corner with Benedict.
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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months ago
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Second Time's The Charm
Alexia Putellas x Reader
Summary: You and your kind of ex-wife
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Lips smashed against yours before you could even compute what was going on.
They were still as soft as ever and you opened your own so Alexia could slip her tongue inside.
"Hi," She said, pulling away slowly.
"Hi."
You smiled at her.
She looked nearly the same as when you divorced her and left the country. The same cheeks. The same nose. The same eyes. The same awkward little smile on her face.
“I missed you,” She said,” I heard from Alba you were coming home and I couldn’t believe it. I missed you!”
“I missed you too, Ale.”
Her arms were open and you stepped into them. They were just as familiar as they were when you broke up and you melted into them now.
“Sorry,” Someone said,” What the fuck?! Alexia, you’re dating now?!”
Both you and Alexia looked at Mapi in confusion.
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Because you just started snogging her in front of all of us,” Lucy replied, hands shoved into her pockets casually,” I thought we were meant to be meeting the new medic but, no, I guess you were really getting acquainted.”
You laughed, shaking your head fondly as Alexia pouted, her arms tightening around you just like they did years ago when Alba teased you for being mushy.
“She’s my wife,” Alexia insisted, stamping her foot.
“Ex-wife,” You butted in quickly as the team’s mouths fell open in shock. Very few of them had been on the team the same time you and Alexia had been married, childhood sweethearts that eloped the day after you both turned eighteen.
Alexia laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes.
You recognised that laugh. You’d heard that laugh for years when she pretended to a teacher that her homework was just in her locker and that’s why she hadn’t handed it in or when she promised Eli that she wasn’t the one that broke her favourite glass cabinet and it was really her who had kicked a football right through it.
You knew that laugh very well.
“Alexia,” You said, teeth gritted,” What did you do?”
“Now, amor,” She said,” Just remember that-“
“Alexia, confess!”
“I may have forgotten to file the papers.”
“Alexia!” You snapped before sighing. A bubble of laughter emerged from your throat until you were trapped in an almost hysterical laughing fit. “We signed them together. At the kitchen table. How did you forget?”
“I promise I was going to!” She insisted,” But I had other stuff to do and it just got buried and Mama did some cleaning and she must have shredded them on accident!”
“Alexia, that was years ago! Are you saying that we’re still married?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On which answer will get me in trouble.”
Fondly, you tugged on her ponytail. “You are so lucky I love you.”
She grinned. “Enough to stay married?”
You shrugged. “Well, it’s a hassle to file the papers and work out the separation of assets again.”
“Oh, thank god.” Alexia fished something out of her pocket and it was only when she slid it onto your finger again that you recognised it as your wedding ring. She was the one that had bought them and while you knew that hers had remained on a chain around her neck, you hadn’t ever wondered what had happened to yours after you returned it.
You just assumed it had been thrown to the bottom of her jewellery box.
“Have you been carrying that around since you found out I was coming home?”
Like a professional, she skirted around your question. “Home! You need to move in again! The clothes you left all got put into a storage locker so we should probably swing by there after work. Your office is practically the same but kind of dusty so I’ll clean it up while you unpack.”
You nodded, mulling over the plan in your head. “You know that if I have back in then so does Mr Stinky.”
Alexia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You still have him?”
“Yes, Ale! Just because I moved to England doesn’t mean I abandoned my cat!”
She pursed her lips before admitting. “I think there’s still a few of his toys under the sofa. I can never manage to get them all.”
“And I want the left side of the bathroom sink.”
She nodded before freezing. “Hey! Wait, no! That’s my side! That’s always been my side! You can’t just take it!”
You flashed your ring. “You want this to work? I want the left side of the sink.”
“Well…I want…I want…I want the right side of the dresser!”
“Done!”
“Done!”
“Sorry, no,” Mapi butted in. You’d almost forgotten that you were meant to be introducing yourself to the team. “Not done. Let me get this straight. You two got married, divorced but not really and now you’ve decided to get back together?!”
You shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“But you divorced!” It was clear that she was struggling to wrap her head around this.
“It wasn’t really a breakup though,” Alexia said flippantly,” We still hooked up every time she came home. We only really tried to get a divorce because she was leaving for England. I was clingy when I was younger.”
The whole team pointedly stared at Alexia’s hands on your waist and how they hadn’t moved but to put your ring back on your finger.
“Clingier,” You amended,” And I needed to leave for more money. We decided it would just be easier to get divorced but I guess that didn’t work out.”
“Oh!” Alexia said suddenly,” I need to tell Mama! She’ll be so happy! She’s always talking about you to everyone.”
“Oh, I’m glad. I’ll have to call my Mama too. She’s always telling people that her daughter-in-law is Alexia Putellas. You’ll have to come to Sunday lunch this week. My aunts and uncles will be there.”
“Next week we’ll go to mine then,” Alexia agreed,” Mama will want you to try her paella again. She tweaked the recipe.”
“Oh, great! I love Eli’s paella. My-“
“No!” Mapi said, pointing at both of you in turn,” This is moving so quickly. I’m sorry but what the hell?!”
“Oh,” You said,” I didn’t introduce myself properly. I’m y/n. I’m the new doctor on the team. Alexia’s…well I was going to say ex but apparently we’re still married so I’m Ale’s wife! I look forward to getting to know you all.”
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applepiewinchesters · 4 months ago
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Every Universe (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)
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A/N: This was written while I was slightly intoxicated, I regret nothing though and hope you guys enjoy it. It was proofread but I cannot say there will be no grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy!! :) Also, takes place in the Deadpool and Wolverine universe.
Word Count: 4,158 (this bitch is long, for me at least)
Warnings: None really unless you count angst and fluff as well as the mention of butt stuff
Finding out that not falling in love with a man being the sole reason you were sent to the void seemed like a pretty patriarchal reason to essentially be damned but who were you to question the TVA.
The day you were sent to the void you’d seen the news, MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AFTER ATTACK AT XAVIER’S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS, names such as Jean Grey, Marie D’Ancanto, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Logan Howlett were read out by the heartbroken looking anchor.
Being a mutant yourself, the news stung and left a pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was an attack by an anti-mutant terrorist group, if they were bold enough to attack the home of Charles Xavier, why not a shopping mall next, or another school full of mutant and non-mutant children alike.
Only minutes after the newscast on the tragedy started four rectangular, orange portals opened in front of and behind you. Four men dressed in odd looking military uniforms stalked towards you. You didn’t even have time to attempt to fend them off before they grabbed you, holding you down while you attempted to break free but even with your mutation, they were too strong.
All you remembered was one of them placing some weird stick against your stomach and you screamed as you essentially dissolved into nothing.
When you woke you were found by who you now knew as Blade, and were told you were in the Void, where you would stay until you died or were killed by a fellow member of said Void.
You’d been there for a what you thought was probably a few years when a couple of Deadpool and Wolverine variants were found by Laura in an absolutely fucked Honda Odyssey. She brought them there and Gambit and Blade brought them inside and laid them down. They appeared as if they’d just had a horrific fight or the most violent sexual encounter ever.
The Wolverine variant was the first to wake up, quite literally shooting up into a sitting position while breathing heavily. His claws extended quickly from his knuckles, and he made an almost animalistic sound.
“Easy there killer,” you almost teased, holding up your hands, you’d been the one unfortunate enough to be closest to him when he woke up, so his eyes immediately fixed on you.
Several emotions seemed to flash across his face at once, his look of anger changing to one of shock. His claws disappeared just as quickly as they’d appeared just moments ago as you slowly put your hands down, now a little concerned for the man.
“Y/N?”, he asked, his head tilting slightly.
It was your turn to look confused, “Did we know each other?”, you asked.
Sure, you’d heard of Wolverine, of Logan, but you’d never met him personally, you had originally been set to attend Charles Xavier’s school when you were 18 but after an attack on the school the same year your parents had decided against it.
The Logan before you’ s face fell slightly; he seemed almost hurt. It took him a second to respond, “I, uh, I guess not.”
That was when Elektra cut in, explaining to Logan where he was and how she’d found him and Deadpool. While he seemed to only half listen, he got up and found the nearest bottle of Gambit’s booze and started drinking it.
When Deadpool woke up it was a completely different side of weird, you hadn’t had the pleasure of coming across a Deadpool variant, but you’d heard how odd they were, and unfortunately for you, you thought they were exaggerating.
After annoying literally everyone in the room, the Deadpool variant all got you to somehow agree to help him and Wolverine get back to the TVA to save his timeline, as well as a sneak attack on Cassandra Nova. The whole time Logan watched you from the corner of his eye.
He couldn’t completely convince himself it was you. The last time he’d seen you, you were lying dead on the front lawn of the school, killed by a large group of humans, along with almost everyone at the mansion. You were covered in blood and cold by the time he’d gotten there. He’d held onto you until the coroner was nearly begging to take you away.
Logan remembered almost everything about you. Your favorite movie, what food you hated, and even the feel of your hand in his. But when you looked at him with little to no recognition in your eyes, his heart could’ve broken all over again.
You had no idea the conflicting feelings he’d had while you sat only a few feet away. You looked practically the same, maybe older than you were when you’d died in his world, he was older too, maybe you just didn’t want to be with an old man and were pretending not to know him. He was the worst Wolverine after all, he wouldn’t blame you.
But then there were some things you did that reminded him of his version of you, the way your laugh sounded exactly the same, how you sat the same way in your chair, and you even made the same face when you’d taken a drink of Gambit’s whiskey as when you’d sip his occasionally while the two of you sat on the couch in the mansion watching some movie one of the others had put on.
It was you, just, one that apparently hadn’t fallen in love with Logan Howlett. Logan himself couldn’t help but wonder if that had been your reason for being sent here, but thought better of it, deciding he'd probably never have that kind of impact on any kind of world.
After a successful attack on Cassandra and her small army, Deadpool and Wolverine were gone, and you hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Then Cassandra almost destroyed every timeline to exist, and you’d thought for sure those two variants had gotten themselves killed.
But then the TVA came for you and brought you to said Deadpool variants world, which he had successfully and somehow saved with Wolverine’s help. You couldn’t help but notice Logan’s shirt missing this time around. Almost cursing yourself for not trying harder to go to Xavier’s school when you were younger, having a chance to meet your world’s Logan. A man’s abs can do that to a woman.
“Happy to not be in the void and all, but why am I here?”, you asked, eyeing the agents around you and taking in the cracked subway station.
“I thought I’d give a little gift to Wolvie here,” Deadpool replied in an overly enthusiastic manner, throwing an arm around Logan who instantly pushed him away.
“I’m not a gift to give you dumb fuck,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.
Deadpool ignored your obvious distain and continued, “Well I figured since he lost you in his world and you never falling in love in your world caused his death that you could stay here with us!”.
Your eyes widened and you had to think about what he’d said for a moment, “I-I got him killed? I got Logan and those other mutants killed?”.
Logan couldn’t focus on the other details once his name left your mouth; he hadn’t heard you say that in almost a decade.
You on the other hand turned to the woman beside you that looked to be in charge.
“Is that the reason I was sent there, because I didn’t fall in love with Logan Howlett and he died because of it?”, you asked, you felt like you could be sick.
The woman sighed, almost regretful, “Yes, it was,” she finally answered you. “Without your help of your mutation those mutants did not survive that attack on the school.”
“Oooooo, trauma plot twist,” Deadpool practically squealed.
“Shut the fuck up!”, you snapped back, making Deadpool whisper a bashful, “Sorry,” and take a step back.
The TVA agents left shortly after, and that was how you found yourself living in a small apartment with Wade, Logan, and the craziest old lady you’d ever met, Blind Al.
Wade and she shared a room as weird as it was, you were given the spare room Blind Al reluctantly let you use, as it was now formerly her grow room, and Logan elected to sleep on the couch.
You settled in somewhat nicely, you still felt awkward in a world that wasn’t yours living with a doofus that you'd grown somewhat fond of and a man you got killed in his other life, but you had new friends, ones that didn’t have a huge chance of dying every day so that was a plus.
Yukio and Ellie had gravitated towards you, you were somewhat close in age, with them being early twenties and you in your somewhat late twenties, they reminded you of your younger sibling’s friends from back home in your previous world.
So, when they invited you to go out a month after you settled in, you couldn’t say no, it would get you out of the house at least, you wouldn’t have to sit and listen to Wade and Logan argue or endure Logan’s kicked puppy look when he thought you weren’t looking.
You felt awful you weren’t the you he thought you were, and you knew it was nothing you could control but after Wade let it slip what had happened to you in Logan’s world you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.
So, to hopefully be able to forget about everything for a few hours you got ready, doing some easy makeup and hair, you put on a cute outfit you’d bought earlier in the week, Yukio had begged you to go shopping after finding out you didn’t own anything for “going out” yet on this world.
You relented and picked out a skirt, top, tights, and boots, it was simple yet cute enough to not be mistaken as any old outfit.
When you’d exited your bedroom in your shared apartment shortly before Yukio and Ellie were due to come get you, Wade looked up from whatever the hell he was doing on his phone, which could be anything from porn to angry birds.
His eyes widened slightly, “Got a date?”, he asked, only slightly feigning shock.
Logan had looked up immediately at the mention of a date, he was sipping a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table. His eyes traveled over your outfit when he thought you were busy glaring at Wade.
“Not that its your business merc but no, I’m going out with Yukio and Ellie,” you stated, tossing a lip balm you had in your hand to your small purse.
“Girls nightttt,” Wade sang, only making you sigh.
As if a divine intervention interrupted there was a knock on the door and when you opened it you found the two girls standing there waiting.
“Hi Wade!”, Yukio exclaimed waving at him.
Wade leaned back in his seat to look around you at Yukio, “Hi Yukio!”.
“Come on,” you told them, moving to leave but a hand on your shoulder made you turn around. It was Wade.
“Now honey,” he began, “don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go off alone, and don’t hook up with anyone. You know what they say about beer goggles, you’ll be waking up next to the crypt keeper.”
While you rolled your eyes and pushed Wade’s hand off your shoulder although you knew he really did care. Logan on the other hand clenched his jaw. You weren’t his and he knew that, but Wade’s last comment set his teeth on edge.
“I’m a big girl Wade, but thanks,” you told him, turning around and leaving this time without so much as a glimpse Logan’s way.
When the door shut Wade spoke again, “She’s gonna get picked up by every hottie in the club in that outfit. Did you see her legs Peanut?”.
Wade then almost immediately flinched when he felt glass shatter on the back of his head, the alcohol in the now broken bottle staining the back of his My Little Pony shirt.
He didn’t even have to look back to imagine the look on Logan’s face, “Gotcha,” was all Wade replied, picking out a rather large glass shard from the back of his neck.
It was hours later when you were so drunk you couldn’t feel the cold outside, but you sure felt good on the inside. The only bad thing was that the other girls wanted to go to another club, and your social battery was just about gone.
You three stumbled out of the club, Yukio and you giggled at something Ellie had yelled at some perv leering at you when you’d walked out. Stopping the other two from turning the opposite way to another club, you spoke rather loudly despite being out of the crowd and loud music.
“I-I think I’m gonna go home! You girls go!” you told them, making Yukio frown.
“Don’t walk home by yourself, call Wade or something,” Ellie commented.
You nodded thoughtfully before gasping, “I’ll call Logan, Wade is doing butt stuff with Vanessa tonight!”.
Your loud comment sent Yukio into a giggling fit and made a guy near you wince, maybe he’d done butt stuff too.
Ellie only nodded, rolling her eyes as you pulled your phone from your purse, scrolling through the very few numbers you’d had, Wade had gotten both you and Logan phones soon after arriving, claiming he needed to be able to send you both funny videos every day. Which were no doubt ignored by Logan.
Pressing on Logan’s contact, you put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring only once before the call was answered.
“You alright?”, was the first thing out of Logan’s mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh, I’m great!” you replied, “but Ellie doesn’t want me walking home alone and Wade is doing butt stuff so will you come? I’m only a few blocks from home.”
The whole sentence was sort of rushed and you thought maybe Logan hadn’t heard you correctly because the line went silent.
You were about to repeat yourself when Logan stopped you, “I’m coming,” he told you, you could hear him shuffling around and the sound of a door closing, “What’s the name?”.
Despite having been in the club for well over an hour you had to look up and squint at then brightly lit sign, “Uhhhh,” you mumbled into to the phone, before your eyes finally focused, “House of Yes!”.
You could’ve sworn Logan chuckled, “Be there soon,” was all he said before hanging up.
“Escort secured,” you told the two girls, slipping your phone back into your purse. “He’ll be here soon,” you added, attempting to replicate his gravely tone, only succeeding in making yourself cough and sending Yukio into a laughing fit.
It was only 15 minutes of standing around before Logan showed up, you spotted him first, having turned yourself that way to look for him. He was dressed in his usual jeans, button up, and undershirt, along with a leather jacket he’d picked up recently.
He looked good you had to admit, nearly every girl outside, and even some guys turned to look at him when he walked past. He didn’t give them any sort of acknowledgement though, earning some disappointed looks from a few of them when he walked up to you.
What was it Wade said about beer goggles? Logan was hot without alcohol though, so you shook off the thought.
“Ready to go?”, he asked, eyes scanning over you, not to be a perv but to make sure everything was the same as when you left, and it was, save for the way you swayed slightly and the way you smiled at him like you were so happy to see him. He thought he’d never see that again, but he has to remind himself for what felt like that hundredth time that it wasn’t you, not his you at least.
You nodded, turning around to hug both of the girls, telling them to be safe, although you knew Ellie wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit.
“Bye Y/N! Bye Logan!”, Yukio exclaimed, waving at you both before grabbing Ellie’s hand as they turned the opposite way.
“Alright, come on,” Logan said, taking a step away from you and waiting for you to follow him to keep walking, he made sure to keep you closest to the buildings, it wouldn’t be too great to have you fall in the street in front of a car.
It was silent for a couple minutes, you stumbled every so often and Logan’s hand always shot out, ready to catch you, but you always righted yourself, giggling as you did, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound.
You caught him smiling after a couple times, narrowing your eyes, “What’re you smiling at grumpy?”, you asked, voice anything but angry.
“Grumpy?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Yeah, it’s what I call you sometimes in my head, Mr. Grumpy is also a good one,” you told him in a very serious tone.
“Mr. Grumpy,” Logan found himself repeating, only making you laugh, which made you stumble, nearly knocking into someone walking the opposite way of you both. Logan instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the almost collision and into his side.
You immediately noticed he was warm, you could feel it even with his multiple layers on, it was growing colder now outside as the days went on and you yourself knew without the alcohol, you’d probably be cold but here he was, a personal heater.
“Are you actually just a werewolf?” you asked him, making him stop walking completely and turn towards you, removing his arm from your shoulders, making you pout a bit.
“I am not a werewolf,” he told you seriously.
You groaned, “Okay but you’re really warm, you have claws, you can run on all fours, and you’ve got those little…,” you trailed off, putting your pointer fingers up on each side of your head, attempting to mimic the little swishes his hair made.
Personally, you had no idea if his hair just did that (because he’s a werewolf), or if he styled it that way. You couldn’t decide which option to like more.
When Logan didn’t seem to understand what you’d said, you reached up, lightly running a finger along one of the swoops of his hair. You jumped a bit when his hand caught your wrist as you were pulling your hand back.
There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize but it soon disappeared as he let you go, “Sorry,” he quickly said. “Reflex.”
You shrugged, “No harm done,” you told him, and his eyes softened at the way you brushed off his behavior from years of enduring nothing even remotely close to the gentle way you’d just touched him.
Maybe you didn’t think so badly of him. You always seemed so wary, afraid to make him angry, to say something wrong, like he was a ticking time bomb. It put him on edge and made him want to steer clear of you, he didn’t want to scare you off either.  But now, standing there staring at you while you just smiled at him made him relax a bit.
“Let’s go,” you suddenly said, beginning to walk away from him. He was back at your side in moments, and you found yourself bumping into him every so often, apologizing every time you did.
Finally, he wrapped an arm around you again, pulling you back into the warmth of his side. You smiled when he did, stumbling slightly but he held you up easily, not letting you fall.
“Thanks for coming to get me,” you told him when you were only a block from home.
“No problem,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.
There were a few moments of silence before you began to giggle suddenly, Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at you, “What?” he asked, hopefully not regretting asking.
“So, you’re not a werewolf?” you asked, looking up at him.
Logan groaned looking away from you, “No, and if you keep asking, you’ll regret it.”
“Ooo what are you gonna do?” you mocked, poking his side.
“Wouldn’t you like to know sweetheart,” he replied, making you stumble at the nickname.
“I would,” you challenged, after righting yourself with the help of Logan’s arm around you.
Logan regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re drunk, another time.”
“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, “Tell me!”.
“Not a chance,” Logan replied, smirking a bit. He’d been drinking since you left and was buzzed himself, he couldn’t help but smile at your behavior.
The you he’d known had always acted like this, at least when intoxicated. You were whiny, clumsy, and clingy. The way your fingers gripped the back of his jacket to stay up right made his heart ache though and his smile fell.
You noticed his attitude change and became concerned, “You okay?” you asked, attempting to stop walking, but Logan kept you going.
“Fine” he replied, his hold on you loosening slightly, you couldn’t help but notice.
So, you stopped, much to Logan’s dismay, moving to stand in front of him, swaying slightly as you very determinedly looked him in the eye.
“What’s wrong, did I do something?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice, he could almost feel his heart crack just slightly.
“No, it’s…,” Logan began, his tongue getting tied, he was never great at emotions, that’s why he drank so much. You didn’t have to feel anything then.
“I’m listening,” you reassured, resisting the urge to take his hand.
“You’re so much like…like her, like you,” Logan finally said, not really meeting your eye. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t, you even smell the same.”
Logan had rendered you with nothing to say, could you truly comfort him? Reassure him? You felt yourself sobering up a bit at the thought.
It was a few moments of silence before you found your words, “I know this has been shitty for you too, and I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend. Honestly sometimes I think you hate the fact that I'm not her, me her, whatever...that you hate me. But then you do things like this and it makes me think otherwise. I guess I just don't know how to...approach you, Logan."
Logan felt his heart drop at the word “friend”, and the thought he made you feel inadequate. God he really was stupid enough to think he might have a chance with this version of you.
But he found himself lifting a hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up beneath his fingers, “I could never hate you, not in this universe, not in any, got it? Its my fault, for pushing that onto you, making you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”
You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “We’re both just fucked up in our own special way, aren’t we?”.
Logan nodded, dropping his hand, but you caught it in your own, “It’s not your fault either you know, I personally blame whatever bitchass overlord of the universe did this.”
Logan had to keep himself from solely focusing on the way your hand wrapped around his, “But…,” he went to argue.
You put up a hand to stop him, “Enough with the self-pity Howlett, its unbecoming of a man of your nature.”
“My nature?” Logan asked, titling his head at you.
“Yes, the nature of being absurdly attractive,” you admitted, looking away from him as you spoke, attempting to walk away, but he pulled you back, almost into his chest, but he kept you a few inches away, still concerned with scaring you.
“Absurdly?” Logan asked, the smirk returning to his face.
You swallowed hard, “Did I say that? I meant unappealing, completely unsightly.”
Your attempt at saving your future sober self from your drunk self was failing miserably, but Logan gave in after a few seconds, shrugging as he turned, placing his arm around you once more, guiding you towards the apartment building you could finally see in the distance.
“Whatever you say kid,” he told you.
This was the most at home you two had felt in a while, and when you sat next to each other at breakfast in the morning, Logan passing you whatever you needed when you’d asked, Wade gasped dramatically.
“Did you two also engage in butt stuff last night, or is that not your cup of whiskey Wolvie?” Wade asked.
This earned him a fork to the forehead, easily tossed across the table by Logan.
The way you laughed made Logan’s heart skip a beat instead of crack again. For the first time in quite a while he felt hope, and if being here with you meant putting up with Wade’s dumbass mouth, he could make an exception just this once.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I felt like Tumblr was seriously lacking in Logan fluff so here ya go!
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no-144444 · 1 month ago
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the grid: time for a hot lap!
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Day 22 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist
Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen
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Oscar Piastri: 
When Oscar told you that Mclaren wanted you to do a hot lap with him at the Austin GP, you were pretty shocked. Both you and Oscar were pretty against putting your entire relationship on blast, and you were usually too busy with your own job to make it to the GP’s, but you’d promised you’d do the triple header with him this time. 
“It’ll be fun,” he smiled, rubbing your back as you both lay in bed together. “I promise I won’t go too fast.”
You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the ‘going fast’ part. I care about the questions they’ll make me ask you.”
He chuckled. “It’ll be alright, I’ll ask them to not make it too inappropriate.” 
You sighed, knowing he really wanted you to do this. “Let’s do it.” 
“Thank you baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and finally, you both got up for the day. 
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The Texas sun was setting over the Circuit of the Americas, casting a golden glow on the iconic track. You sat in the car, Oscar revving it up as your heart dropped when you looked at the first question. “Holy shit Osc,” you mumbled, flipping through all of the cue cards. 
“What?” he asked, looking over. 
“These are all from, like, a horny question game!” you whispered. He immediately started laughing as he flipped through the cards, each one getting more ridiculous. 
“What are these? ‘Kiss me for 5 whole minutes’? What is this shit?” He laughed. 
“That’s one of the more tame ones,” you whispered. 
“This one is the worst,” he chuckled, showing you a card that says ‘Do you have any fetishes I don't know about?’ and you both bursted out laughing. 
“What do we do?” You asked, not knowing if you were meant to actually ask such personal questions. 
“Throw them out the window,” he instructed with a cheeky smile. 
You rolled your eyes. “Oscar, we can’t do that-!”
He grabbed them out of your hand and threw them out his window, then started speeding down the main straight. 
Oops. 
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Lando Norris: 
“It’ll be funny!” You begged. “Come on, I promise I won’t scream- that much.” 
He rolled his eyes. “You barely let me drive anyways, what’s different about this, huh?”
“That’s so not true! I let you drive when I’m drunk.”
“Exactly!” He giggled. 
“Please Lan, let’s just do it, I promise it’ll be fun,” you poured, and he knew he had no defence now. 
“Fine,” he sighed. “But you owe me something in return,” he lifted an eyebrow and you chuckled. 
“You’re such a child,” you teased before placing your lips on his. 
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He was pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoyed it. He sped along the circuit, and every time it came to the last corner, he obliged your begs to his again until you eventually did 6 whole laps going top speed. As you both got out of the car, while you spoke animatedly to the camera, he stood shyly behind you. As you two walked off ‘set’ (the pitlane) you turned to him. 
“What’s wrong?” You asked, taking his hand. “You alright? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”
He chuckled, blushing. “It’s not that,” he mumbled and you understood. 
“That made you hard!?” You asked, shocked. 
“Shut up!” He whined. “I have a hot girlfriend, sue me!” 
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Lewis Hamilton: 
It wasn’t the first time Lewis had asked you to do a hot lap with him, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. You had agreed, of course, and this would be the first time it was filmed for the general public's viewing pleasure. 
“Ready?” he asked, turning the car on. 
“Ready,” you nodded. As you two sped off, you looked down at the questions. “Alright, Bono or Toto for a night out?”
“Easy, Bono and Toto, both of them are great fun,” he smirked. 
“What’s the best advice you’ve gotten about love?” 
“When my dad told me to marry you,” he answered, not really thinking as he almost sent the two of you into a gravel trap.
“Fucking hell Lewis, at least pretend to still be good at your job,” you scolded as he laughed. “If you weren’t an F1 driver what would you be?”
“Probably a stay-at-home dad,” he shrugged. 
“What superpower would you want?”
“Teleportation.”
“Who do you miss more when you’re away, me, or Roscoe?” 
“Oh shit, that’s hard,” he smirked, thinking. As you two weaved around the final corner, you had no reaction, even when he drifted you barely batted an eye. It was impressive to say the least. “You, obviously.”
Actually, you hadn’t had a reaction to any of the driving, no gasps or sighs, no grabbing the safety handle, nothing.
As you two pulled back into the pit lane he looked over at you with a smirk. “Seriously? No reaction?”
You shrugged. “It’s not that thrilling.” 
He shook his head with a smirk. “You are something else baby.”
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George Russell:
“You alright?” He asked and you shook your head.
“I would not have agreed to come out of the garage if it means that this shit is happening,” you gritted out. 
He just laughed and pressed a kiss to your hand. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”
“Babe- BABE!” you screamed as he shot off down the main straight and began the hot lap. “FUCK!” 
George just laughed as he weaved through the corners, you screaming the whole time. 
“Ask me the questions!” he instructed. 
“FUCK! LIFT GEORGE, FUCKING LIFT!” you screamed. There was a certain hilarity to your relationship, especially considering that you were his lead engineer. “THIS IS ALWAYS YOUR PROBLEM!”
“Ask the questions!” he laughed. 
“FUCK- a-alright, Lando or Alex- GEORGE PICK A FUCKING BREAKING ZONE!” 
He was laughing too hard to answer for a moment, but he composed himself as you gasped at every twist and turn. “Albono and I probably see each other more,” he chuckled. 
“Alright, next questi- GEORGE LIFT!”
“I know what I’m doing!” he shouted back, laughing. Just then, he iver shot it and brought you both straight into a gravel trap, stuck there. 
“You ‘know what you're doing’, do you?” you scoffed. “I am never doing this shit again, I sit in the garage for a reason-”
He leaned over and kissed you, a bright smile on his face. 
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Alex Albon:
As a sky presenter, you’d been forced to do many strange things. For example, try and give Jenson Button a piggy back for 3 hours (you’d lasted about 40 minutes, which was pretty good), try to reconcile Brocedes (it kind of worked?), made many fans days, and had a great impact on the sport. 
“So you want me to do a hot lap with Alex?” you questioned Ted. He nodded. 
One thing you didn’t talk about often was the fact that in your 2 years at SkyF1, you’d started dating one of the F1 driver’s, Alex Albon. Neither of you were particularly keen on telling the public, because it just never felt like the right time. 
“Alright,” You shrugged. “I’ll do it.”
That’s how you ended up in the strangest position yet, driving your F1 boyfriend around the COTA track in a Ferrari. 
“So Alex, any advice for me?” you asked, turning to him.
“There’s no grip, don’t try to drift,” he chuckled. Honestly, he was enjoying this. He had taught you some of his drifting tactics and such, and he was really enjoying shooting with you. SkyF1 usually kept you two separate out of fear that you’d expose your relationship, so despite you being there every weekend, he rarely saw you during the day. 
“Got it,” you nodded, speeding down the main straight. Immediately, he started barking orders at you of when to lift and when to not, and he was screaming and gasping at every corner, while you just laughed. Honestly, you loved driving as fast as you could with no repercussions. 
As you finally slowed down to the end of the hot lap, he finally started breathing again and sighed. “I’m dating a lunatic!” 
You just laughed at him as he stood up from the car, legs shaking. 
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Daniel Riccardo: 
You were terrified of what Daniel would do when he was given the chance to drive a very fast car, very fast, with no repercussions, and you as his passenger. 
“Not too fast, yeah? I already know you’re a great driver,” you smiled, trying to make him slow down. 
He just smirked. “Baby, y’know I’m a racecar driver, right?”
You grimaced. He accelerated. You screamed. 
“Isn’t this fun?!” he asked, doing doughnuts on the track. 
“FUCK NO!” you screamed. “Daniel slow down! Slow down!”
“Nothing is making me slow down now-”
“I’M PREGNANT!” You shouted. 
He brought the car to a startling halt and turned to you with wide eyes.
You took out your phone, ready with a photo of the positive pregnancy test. He gasped. 
“I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, eyes clouding with tears. 
You nodded. 
He pressed his lips to yours quickly, stealing a kiss, then another. 
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Charles LeClerc:
“Mon coeur, please! It will be fun,” he begged. 
“No, no way,” you chuckled, trying desperately to get away from him in the Ferrari garage. 
“Rebecca is doing it with Carlos,” he told you. 
“So she doesn’t value her life? Ok, that’s fine with me,” you argued. 
“Please my love,” he asked, taking your hands. “One lap, I’ll slow down, I promise.”
You stared at him for a second. “One lap?”
“One lap,” he nodded. 
“And you’ll be gentle?”
“So gentle,” he nodded. 
“Fine.”
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He was not gentle, nor was it one lap. He ended up taking you around 3 times, while you basically begged him to stop or slow down. 
When you both got out, you immediately ran to his driver’s room and tried to calm down, while he was interviewed. 
“Is she alright?” Ted asked. 
Charles smiled. “She’s not a big fan of stuff like this, so probably not,” he chuckled. “I might be sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
Ted chuckled. “Well, we understand why, you did drift the entire circuit 3 times and you almost went off 4 times.”
Charles sighed. “Thank you Ted.”
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Max Verstappen: 
You’d sat in the passenger seat of his valkyrie aston martin a hundred times before, what would be so different about this?
A lot.
As Max drove and you screamed, he put his hand on your lap trying to calm you down. 
“MAX! BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL!” you screamed as he chuckled. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GOOD DRIVER!”
“I am a good driver!” he shouted back, over the sound of the engine. 
“Evidently not!” You screamed as he went straight over a curb.
“Do you want to see bad driving?” He smirked.
“No! No! That’s ok, just- MAX!” You screamed as he immediately sped up and started to drive even more recklessly. 
“FUCKING HELL MAX!” you screamed. “I’LL DIVORCE YOU!” 
He just laughed. 
What a way to announce your marriage, right?
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
fic-tober masterlist
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sixosix · 1 year ago
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(OFFICIALLY) SWEPT OFF YOUR FEET
i. summary in which everyone knew you were in a relationship, except for you.
ii. warnings wc 1.5k, profanity, reader will be angry: couple fight scene but not really, alhaitham is kinda dumb here, but he loves you and you love him and that's all that matters, ending is kinda lame... ft. tighnari and cyno
iii. written for my big sibling @earthtooz hope u like this one earf ily
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“Hey, Alhaitham?”
He hums noncommittally.
You nestle further in his arm that’s draped lazily over your shoulder, his other hand and his attention occupied by a book. He doesn’t respond again, but he does glance at you for a moment while you shift, adjusting his arm more comfortably.
“Tighnari sent me a letter the other day.”
“Hm.”
“And it was real sweet, you know. He sent over fruits and told me you have your share in my package. He didn’t want to send them to you because he said the fruits would have expired by the time you’d read the letter.” Alhaitham doesn’t deny it. “But I read something extremely strange in the letter that had me dropping the fruits out of pure shock.”
Alhaitham still doesn’t reply. But you know him well enough to know that he’s no longer reading—just keeping appearances.
“Did you read it?”
“...No.”
Obviously. “Ah, well. Let me quote it, as I feel the need to share it with you as well.” You sit up straight and push Alhaitham’s book away from his line of view. “He said, ‘For the insufferable, lovely couple. It’s been a while since you two have visited. How are you and Alhaitham doing? Write back soon.’ And then he taped a flower.”
Alhaitham’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. “You look miffed.”
You scowl. “Alhaitham, of course I’m miffed! Since when were we a lovely couple? And why are you not surprised? Were you the one to prank them?”
“No one’s trying to fool anyone,” he says smoothly, picking up his book once again. As if he just hasn’t caused your crisis. “Tighnari is simply being a good friend and looking for something to nag us about.”
“Alhaitham, since when were we a couple?” you demanded again, shaking his arm. “Did I miss something? Did I wake up one day and forget about being in a relationship with you?”
“Haven’t we always been in one?”
“No, we have not?”
Alhaitham casts you a glance. “You sound unsure.”
“Because you seem so sure of yourself for no reason,” you fume, itching with the urge to hurl the book at his face. “I didn’t even know you were even into me like that!”
“I let you kiss me on the cheek every night before you leave my house. Sometimes, you don’t even leave my house, so we sleep on the same bed.” As if that explains anything. And did he fling out these reasons to Tighnari, too?
“Well, I do it because I’ve been doing it since we were, like, six. And you never told me to stop. Plus, it’s just a cheek kiss—that’s way different from an actual kiss actual couples do,” you say, getting increasingly infuriated with each word that’s coming out your mouth. Why do you have to explain how relationships work to Alhaitham? Surely he’s read a guide about love in the millions of books he’s touched?
“I don’t see why you wouldn’t start kissing me the way couples do, then.”
Oh, this bitch. “So you knew that I liked you?” Your voice wavers, and you feel a little pathetic. “And that’s what prompted you to start spreading lies to everyone? Is this some joke to you?”
Immediately, his expression is swept off of amusement. “Y/N,” he says as you feel your lips tremble. “Y/N, that’s not—”
“Shut up,” you say. “How long has this been going on? Since when have I been outside of the biggest inside joke, huh?”
“It’s not like that. I thought—”
“Oh, you thought, didn’t you? Yet you didn’t think I don’t want my feelings to be played like—like—” You can’t even bring yourself to say this. You know that Alhaitham can be mean when he wants to be, but making a joke out of the feelings you’ve desperately hidden for years?
“I need to leave.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to announce it. Was it because you rarely even leave his place? Each step feels wrong. You don’t want to be mad at Alhaitham to this extent but you’re hurt.
You ignore Alhaitham’s hurried, “Where are you going?” because you don’t have an answer to that. Wherever you go, you always end up in Alhaitham’s arms.
You forcefully push the door open and march off, head spinning, humiliated. You hear Alhaitham’s steps fall into place after yours. It’s pissing you off even more that Alhaitham doesn’t even look the slightest bit frazzled, as if you impulsively sprinting off is just a walk in the block for him.
Then you spot Cyno in the middle of a street. He catches your wrist before you can avoid him.
He blinks, mildly surprised to see it’s just you and not some food stall thief. “Y/N.” Cyno tilts his head slightly to acknowledge the man a few feet away from you. “Alhaitham. Is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing!” You don’t question why or how Cyno is here, shoving him aside—which proved to be a little difficult given how he’s pretty strong for such a tiny man.
“You’re crying,” Cyno points out as you try to push him away as if you aren’t aware of how your face feels uncomfortably hot and how tears are sliding off your cheeks.
“It’s a marital dispute,” Alhaitham says, directly behind you.
His voice makes you scowl. So infuriatingly sexy, and you’re mad at it. “We’re not married!”
Cyno nods, serious. “Yes, I only heard about the engagement.” At your stunned silence and Alhaitham’s reluctant stillness, Cyno clears his throat and steps aside. “I suppose I’ll leave you two to it. I don’t know how relationships work.”
You groan as Cyno walks off, “Great, so even Cyno thinks we’re a couple. Who’s next, Lesser Lord Kusanali?”
Alhaitham looks away. “Well—”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Your wrist seems keen on being dragged around by men today, it seems. Alhaitham firmly tugs at your arm, pulling you close to his chest, his gaze intensely searching yours. But all he would be able to see is your scowl. And all you can see is his handsome face.
“Y/N,” Alhaitham says, your name in his voice a sweet murmur. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t think you would react that way.”
“What, you think I’d just roll with it?” you spit with dripping bitterness.
“Yes.” You're taken aback as you gaze at him and find his expression to be entirely genuine and open. “We fell into a friendship so easily. I fell in love with you the same way: naturally. I thought…” And then his usually blank face twists into something unpleasant. “Forgive me.”
“Alhaitham, you idiot. You bastard. Do you have any idea how relationships work?”
“No. All I know is how to be with you.” He wipes a tear off your cheek. “But it appears I’m not even doing that right.”
“Fuck you.” You bat his hand away. His face falls. “You don’t get to act all sweet to me like that. I spent years thinking you would never see me that way, and you get to decide one morning that we’re in a relationship, just like that?”
“You’ve liked me for years?” Alhaitham’s eyes are a bit wide, totally missing the point.
“Alhaitham.”
“I ask you out every dinner. And you say yes each time.”
“I didn’t think you meant it like that!”
“I did mean it like that,” Alhaitham says, and again with that ‘so sure of myself’ personality. You hate it. You love it. “And I meant everything I’ve ever said to you like that. I didn’t tell anyone anything; they just assumed on their own, and only then did I realize how it did seem that way. It was my selfishness that didn’t try to deny their assumptions.”
Alhaitham’s usually so difficult to speak to, especially when it comes to expressing his true emotions. You often find yourself filling the silence, and he seems content with it. However, he appears desperate at this moment, as though you’re planning on leaving if he doesn’t give you a reason to stay.
You are too weak. “So you like me.”
“I do.”
“…And you want to… be in a relationship with me.” Alhaitham nods. You're beginning to feel flustered as the realization sets in that the man you've always dreamt of is holding you intimately in the middle of nowhere, and also confessing that he feels the same way. “Ask me out properly, then.”
Alhaitham looks at you incredulously. Did he think it was over?
“Do it, Alhaitham. Woo me. Win me over. Sweep me off my feet.”
“...Y/N,” he hesitates, his face tinted pink, vaguely embarrassed. “Go out with me. In that way.”
It sounds demanding and clumsy, but it’s perfectly Alhaitham, so your heart beats out of your chest and your face splits into a grin all the same.
You wrap your arms around his neck. “If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you’re going to do it right, you hear me? You won’t just let me do anything. And you will start—officially—tomorrow by telling everyone that we are not engaged nor married.”
Alhaitham dips his head down, your chin trapped by his fingers. “We will be, eventually, though. And I can just start now. Officially.”
Your confusion doesn’t last for even a second when his lips meet yours in a kiss. You’ve been wooed. Won over. Swept off your feet.
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earth i hope u know it took me months to find a good plot for your man this was a feat in itself. also i copy pasted your tags love u.
also if u caught the title while it was called swept over your feet shut up…. Please. this didnt have a title originally 🙁
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lvrhughes · 2 months ago
Text
Haunted House | Q. Hughes
pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader
word count: 1.48k
summary: Jack forces you to go through a haunted house with Quinn, leading to confessions from both of you.
warnings: none?
requested: no
not my gif!
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“You got to come!” 
Jack was begging at your door, almost on his knees begging for you to come to some stupid haunted house with him. 
“Why? You know I don’t like scary things.” 
“But Quinn’ll be there, he can protect you!”
“Oh I’m so sure your brother wants to have to look after me.” 
Jack mumbled something under his breath, too quiet to hear before he returned to his begging,  claiming he’ll never leave until you agree. 
“I can do this all day, have fun begging.” 
It was a strong line, until he began singing. Serenading your neighborhood with the out of pitch tune, causing a few dogs to begin barking before you begged him to stop. 
“Fine, fine! I’ll go, just stop it!”  
The smile on Jack’s face was almost brighter than the sun, his arms wrapping around your waist quickly to pull you into him for a hug, whispering thank you’s and ensuring that you’d be fine. 
By nine, you’d talked yourself out of going, coming up with a fake sickness before Jack showed. Of course, why would he knock though? Walking into your house and scaring the shit out of you was his favorite part of having his own key to your house. 
“Jack!” 
Your heart was racing when he appeared behind you, looking over your shoulder at your laptop, which now lay on the couch from when you jumped in fear. 
“Were you googling fake illnesses to get out of this?” 
There was mock hurt in his voice, a hand to his heart while you rolled your eyes. 
“Maybe.” 
“Too late, you’re coming.” 
“Please-” 
“Nope.” 
Jack had dragged you to his car before you could speak, throwing the door open to shove you down beside Quinn in the back. Quinn softly laughed at the interaction, covering his smile with his hand while you tried to hide the blush from him. 
“Didn’t want to come anymore?” 
Quinn turned to look at you, making you scrunch your face in distaste at his question, urging him to laugh once more. 
“I was trying to fake an illness when Jack broke in.” 
Quinn all but burst out laughing at the confession, turning away from you again to laugh while you smiled at the sight. 
You’d always had a thing for the oldest Hughes’ brother, and when Jack found out he was adamant that he could get you together. Nevertheless when you begged him not to try anything, he complied. Not without bringing it up every day though. 
“I was thinking pairs for the haunted house.” Jack spoke, interrupting the peace that had settled in the car. “Was thinking of Quinn and pumpkin, me and Trevor, Luke and Seamus.” 
The nickname resurfacing every October, coming from the once Jack had bought you a pumpkin spiced latte and you loved it, making it very known. You glanced at Quinn, noticing the sullen look on his face, feeling your heart drop.
“Yeah, that’s good.” Quinn’s words shocked you, glancing back at him to see the soft smile he sent your way. 
It wasn’t long until you were stood outside the house, a soft breeze held a bit of a chill, forcing a shiver through your body as you waited. 
“Here.” Quinn was quick to offer, removing the flannel from his body and over your shoulders. 
“No, it’s okay-” 
“You’re cold, take it.” 
You knew arguing with him would be useless, having listened to countless arguments between him and Jack, so you stayed quiet. Thanking him softly for the flannel before slipping your arms properly through it, feeling the warmth of his left in it. 
“Okay, Quinn and pumpkin go first.” Jack deemed, speaking only when he and Trevor reached the front of the line. 
“What? Why us?” 
The thought of entering the house brought a little shake to your voice, feeling Quinn put his hand on your shoulder as you spoke. 
“We’ll be fine, we got to show them.” Quinn whispered, his head resting on your shoulder now as he leaned to speak, ushering you forwards once you nodded. 
Jack sent a goofy smile and wave your way as you glanced back, leaving you to flip him off before walking in beside Quinn. 
The entrance was dark, only slivers of light seeping to just cover the floor, Quinn walked ahead, his hand reaching back for yours within seconds of the door closing. You took his hand quickly, letting him pull you beside him so his arm could wrap around your shoulders. There was rattling and flashing lights, the room quickly darkening the further in Quinn led. 
The sounds of chainsaws filled the halls as Quinn tried to find his way, keeping his hold on you while he turned down another hall. The shaking of bars beside you grabbed your attention, letting out a scream when a hand reached for you. 
“Baby, it’s okay.” Quinn had you wrapped in his arms quicker than you could think, continuing to whisper calming words to you. 
“Are we at the end?” 
Quinn was staring at you with wide eyes, his pupils blown as he shook his head, indicating no. He moved slowly, maneuvering your body to walk in front of his with his arms around your shoulders. He walked slowly, letting you walk at whatever speed you decided while keeping his eyes open for anything that could scare you. 
The end came quickly, Quinn whispering tips to you about where to go and what to expect. His hold on you never falling, keeping your body against his the entire walk, whispering reassuring words every so often. 
“Quinn?” 
Your voice was almost a whisper as you walked through the door, seeing the night sky again, lit with all the stars. 
“Hmm?” He hummed a response, turning your body to face his. 
“Why’d you call me baby?” 
A dark blush covered his cheeks, his face almost a beet red now while his hand reached to scratch the back of his neck. He stumbled over a few words, trying to think up a logical explanation before letting out a soft sigh, returning his hands to your waist where they had laid before. 
“Because that’s what I want to call you,” He took a breath, “I want to be the one who gets to hold you at night, I want to be yours.” 
“Quinn.” He shook his head as you whispered his name, shifting his hold on you to pull you in closer. 
“It’s okay, I know you like Jack.” 
You almost burst out laughing at the words, staring at him with a dumbfounded look instead, which he returned quickly. 
“I don’t like Jack, Quinn, I’ve liked you since Jack introduced us.” 
His eyes widened at the confession, leaning back as if to see more of you before moving to cup your face. 
“Are you serious?” 
His tone was filled with disbelief while you laughed out a yes, moving your hands to run through the hair at the nape of his neck, softly tugging on the chain he wore while you moved. 
Quinn was quick to move after you spoke, pressing a kiss to your lips instantly. His touch making your body melt into his, letting his arms hold you up while you continued threading your hands in his hair. 
“HOLY SHIT.” 
The screams of Jack and Trevor filled the moment, urging you to pull back from Quinn to see them running from the house, headed directly for you. 
“Oh so you finally made a move?” 
Jack’s tone was filled with attitude, his hand landing on his hips as he stared down his brother, leaving Trevor panting behind. Quinn simply rolled his eyes, pulling your body flush against his once more before more screaming filled the air. 
Looking up to see Luke and Seamus running from the house, damn near clinging to each other as they ran towards the group. Luke arrived first, colliding with Quinn’s back, pushing you forward while he clung to the backside of Quinn. 
“That was terrifying, never again.” He panted, still clinging onto Quinn like his life depended on it. 
“I think even Pumpkin handled that better than you.” Quinn played, using the old nickname, before turning to his brother. 
Shoving Luke into a headlock quickly, ruffling his younger brother’s hair while he complained, not fighting hard enough to get out. You watched from the side, slipping from Quinn’s grasp when he turned to mess with Luke. 
“Hey on the bright side,” Jack spoke, gaining the collective attention, “Q finally made a move!” 
The collection of boys shared cheers, shoving Quinn around the circle before returning him to you, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders while his wrapped around your waist. 
“Let’s go home now, hmm?” Quinn hummed softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as you nodded, letting him lead you back to the car, calling for Jack to hurry up and drive you home.
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the-thing-withfeathers · 2 months ago
Text
the archer’s arrow part 1 (w.a.)
something’s wrong
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next part
a/n: heyy my loves. as some of you know, i have no wifi for a little bit cause yup dorm life. i managed to recover this from my offline files. i’d love to hear what you all think of it <3
pairing: wednesday addams x female reader
warnings: cursing, mean!wednesday, rejection. extremely not proofread.
➶ ➶ ➶
she had rejected you then, you remember it clear as day.
it was a good day. the perfect day.
you had been hyping yourself up to do it. yoko & enid gave you extra encouragement. they were so positive that she would say yes.
“addams!” you called out after her, jogging while fumbling your bookbag on your shoulder. you held a black rose in your hand.
she spun around, her eyes glaring right into your soul. you nearly froze, coming to a stop directly in front of her. you always found her pretty, those cute braids had you reeling for ages. but once, you caught her with her hair down, you thought you might die.
it was an accident, of course. it was a night that enid hadn’t warned you to knock before coming in. you bursted in and there she was, her hair down as she changed into sleeping clothes.
you thought about it for days.
“what is it?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
sure, she scared the living hell out of you. but you couldn’t help yourself from wanting to get close to her.
the past few months have been a work-in-progress for you. you started out by joining her as she wrote while waiting for enid. you took a special interest in viper, making sure to always ask her about her progress. she hesitated to tell you initially, but then she started to tell you without you having to ask the question.
then you started to join her outside of her writing. at lunch, you sat next to her. in the library, there you were not even an inch away. she found herself asking you to join her on her escapades in the forest.
it felt nice dedicating time to the raven-haired girl. you thoroughly enjoyed her company— and you were sure she enjoyed yours too.
“i was wondering if… if maybe…” you stuttered out, handing the rose to her.
“spit it out.” she said. you sensed that she was particularly mean today. but that was how she was most of the time.
“if maybe you wanted to go out sometime?” you asked, a sheepish smile on your face.
wednesday furrowed her eyebrows at you, distaste clear on her face.
“what? no.” she spat out and shook her head. “what makes you think i want that?”
your eyes went wide, shocked at her response. you knew wednesday wasn’t particularly kind— you don’t know why you thought she would let you down gently.
“i don’t have any form of interest in you.” she hissed. “did you think because we spent not even a fraction of time together that i liked you?”
‘the worst she could say is no!’ enid said. nope. this was significantly worse.
“no… i…” you tried to say something, anything. but you were completely stunned silent.
wednesday grabbed the rose from your hand, snapping the stem in half and tossing it towards your chest. your hand flew towards it, catching it. it was the perfect metaphor for your heart shattering.
“wednesday…” you managed to get out, whispering the girl’s name.
“what?” she made an annoyed face at you.
“is… is something wrong?” you asked, your voice almost pleading. you had a weird feeling in your stomach, like something definitely wasn’t right.
“what’s wrong is that you’re bothering me. get lost.” her voice sounded so hateful. you’d never heard so much venom from her before.
she spun back around and simply walked off.
you stood there, shocked. that was the first time you’d ever confessed your feelings for someone. you felt like you could throw up from how harsh her rejection was.
you ran off to tell enid and yoko about it, you were close to tears.
“she hates me!” you sobbed out. “i thought we were friends but she just hates me!”
“she doesn’t hate you, darling.” yoko said, rubbing your back.
“i will have words with her!” enid growled softly. your breathing started to stabilize.
“don’t, enid. it’s fine. it’s not worth it.” you stopped her. you didn’t want to piss wednesday off more.
“it’s just not worth it.”
the next few weeks were absolute hell on earth. you didn’t realise how much influence wednesday actually had until you found yourself sitting alone again at lunch. the library no longer was the hub for studying for your friends, they would gather in their own rooms. your only socialization came from the archery club.
enid was your last link to that group. yoko started to get busy with her own confession to divina being successful. even then, she would come to your room instead of you going over there.
as for wednesday, you only saw her five more times aside from class before you left nevermore.
one. with eugene.
you sometimes interacted with him when it came to the hummers. you came from a family of hunters, it was how your archery skills were so good. he’d often ask for your assistance in collecting herbs from the forest. when you came in with a bag of fresh herbs, you spotted wednesday in the corner of the tent. she was using a mortar and pestel, presumably related to why they needed the herbs.
“wednesday, can you grab those please?” eugene said, his hands busy with the bee hive. wednesday turned to look at you, her jaw tightened. you guessed that she wouldn’t like seeing you.
you held out the little bag, her hand hovering under it. you dropped it into her hand and flashed a thin smile at her. she simply turned around and went back to her work. she tossed the small bag to the side, like it was radioactive.
“see ya, eugene.” you quickly made your way out of the tent.
two. at your archery tournament.
you were practicing especially hard for this tournament. it was an inter-school competition and you would be going against so many other students.
you were nervous, more than nervous.
you prepared to enter the competition grounds where you would be introduced. as the lights shone on the entryway, you jogged out, waving at the audience. your family was there somewhere, as were some of your newfound friends. you asked enid if she wanted to come but her answer was unsure.
you took your place at one of the arranged shooting aisles, squinting to see if you could find your family.
as you spotted them, you also spotted a blonde girl with colourful streaks sitting next to them. you waved in their general direction but towards enid specifically.
your wave faltered as you also noticed a shorter, darker-haired girl next to her.
addams?
you thought for a second then realised. of course, she would be here for xavier. you heard they were getting closer recently.
your body language changed, you were suddenly scared again. it was like nothing had changed.
you shot your little heart out the entire tournament. you were a force of nature. the fear turned into determination. you pictured wednesday addam’s face right on the damn bullseye.
“first place goes to…” the man on the stage said into his mic.
and then the world slowed down for you, the noise was drowned out.
the next thing you felt was your entire team’s arms around you, cheers erupting from their mouths.
you won. first fucking place.
three. at weem’s office.
you had gotten called over the loudspeaker that there was a message waiting for you at the princpal’s office.
safe to say that you were quite worried about it. you didn’t know what to expect. you were a good kid, you never got into trouble. maybe you did something you didn’t even know was against the rules.
you made your way down the long hallway from class, picking at your fingernails.
she was walking out as you were walking in.
you turned the corner and accidentally bumped into her, colliding with her smaller figure.
you grabbed her waist to steady her then quickly stumbled backwards, trying to take your hands off her as fast as possible.
“sorry, didn’t mean to.” you raised both your hands in defense.
“whatever.” she muttered, walking past you.
principal weems grabbed a letter out from a drawer in her desk.
“here, darling.” she handed you the envelope. you recognized the seal with ease.
a smile creeped up your face as you tore open the envelope, gripping the letter so hard that your knuckles turned while.
you turned to weems and nodded once, your eyes crinkling from happiness.
“congratulations, sweetheart.”
four. in the forest.
she didn’t see you, you were in the trees. you were practicing your stealth for when you went back home to visit your family. with the killing of animals not permitted in the forests, you knew your family was going to tease you for not being in shape. you were perched on a branch that was directly beside her. she had sat down to read a book.
she was probably one of the only people brave enough to casually spent hours in the forest. you held onto the branch above you as your eyes were trained on her. you loved how cute she looked when she was focused on something. you watched as her eyes trailed over the words. she looked particularly stressed, like she was forcing herself to read.
you worried for her despite all she said to you on that day. you still cared for her, so you showed concern as you noticed her throw the book off to the side in frustration. you jumped down as she stood up abruptly.
“wednesday.” you called out. normally, people would flinch. but not her.
“god, can’t seem to get rid of you.” she groaned.
“something’s wrong.” you stated, “what’s wrong, wednesday?”
“can’t you just leave it alone?!” she screamed at you, her hands flailing in the air. “you don’t have to be so good all the time! sometimes things are better without you around!” she stormed off, bumping your shoulder as she made her way out of the forest.
you turned around to watch her, tears brimming in your eyes. you should have known better.
five. the day you left.
you had come into enid & wednesday’s shared room to collect a quiver you left there for enid to bedazzle. she wanted to do it so you wouldn’t forget her— and to say good luck.
enid was busy getting final preparations for your goodbye so she sent you there alone.
you knocked three times before realising the door was open. you poked your head in only to see wednesday holding the quiver.
“sorry, that’s mine.” you stepped inside, moving closer to her.
“i know. enid’s archery game is questionable at best.” wednesday scoffed, turning around to look at you. she pushed the quiver against your chest. “heard you were leaving. got poached by that elite archer school.”
“yeah… i’m just grabbing this then going.” you shook the quiver as a gesture.
“good. at least we can finally get some peace around here.” she said, sharply turning and walking to her balcony. “nevermore is better without you.” she followed up as she opened the door formed in the glass window.
“bye, wednesday.” you called out loud enough for her to hear. she froze in place and just sneered, walking out.
you sighed softly and exited her room. you left ophelia hall, turning back only once to whisper a faint goodbye.
as your final luggages were being lifted into the car, you received hugs from your friends. some gifts, some cheek kisses.
and as you departed, you swear you could hear the faint noise of a cello.
and now you were back.
you were back and better than ever.
you decided to finish your senior year at nevermore, wanting to be one with your people again.
you thrived at the archery academy, you grew stronger and sharper. your skills were as enhanced as ever. but you were ready to come home to your roots.
you held your head high as you walked into weem’s office once again. she sent you a message to meet her at her office on your first day back.
you knocked on her door three times and heard a “come in!”.
you cracked the door open slowly, she stood from her desk with open arms as she saw you.
“welcome back!” she beamed at you, you jogged towards her for a hug. “look at you. you’ve grown!”
she was right, you had grown since she last saw you. your constant physical activity allowed for a growth spurt.
“i can’t believe you’re back.” she said, comical disbelief in her voice.
“neither. but the academy was full of normies, i missed the solidarity i had here.” you nodded, “and i heard the archery team has made improvements.”
“yes, it has. including introducing the team captain— which i would like you to be.” weems said, her warm smile always made you feel comfort.
“i would love to. i’m excited to get started.” you clasped your hands together.
“good! well… i’ll let you get back to moving in. you’ll have your old room at ophelia hall again, enid is waiting to welcome you.”
you expected nothing less.
as you reached the front of ophelia hall with all your belongings, enid ran straight into you, enveloping you in her arms.
“enid!” you exclaimed as you dropped your duffel bags to hug her back. “you nearly toppled me!”
“i’m sorry! i just got too excited!” she pulled away and grabbed your bags on the floor. “c’mon!” she said, excitedly.
“enid! slow down!” you called after your bubbly friend, she was running way too fast for you to keep up. curse her werewolf energy.
you managed to catch up eventually, but then enid was already on the way back down to grab the rest of your things. you figured she could handle it by herself if she kept going like this. you sat on your bed, the other bed was empty as your old roommate had graduated.
you heard your door open again, scoffing at the noise.
“jesus enid, you work fast as h—“ not enid.
wednesday. wednesday addams.
“wednesday.” you breathed out softly. she had grown too. her braids had gotten significantly longer, she grew into her face more. she clenched her jaw at you— did she really still hate you after all this time?
“so enid was telling the truth, you are back.” she huffed softly. “you shouldn’t have.”
you rolled your eyes at her. “i’m done with this, wednesday.” you waved a hand at her in dismissal. “you can’t seriously still hate me.”
“no. i’m serious. you shouldn’t have come back.” it was almost like she was warning you. she was staring at you like she hoped you weren’t real. you could tell that there was something bigger she wanted to tell you.
“what? wednesday…” your face scrunched in confusion. it was cut off by enid entering your room, dropping three duffel bags on your floor.
“all done!” she dusted her hands together.
“thanks, enid.” you chuckled. “honestly, it looked like lightwork to you. did you get much stronger after wolfing out then?”
“hell yeah!” enid flexed her arms as a joke. “you better believe it!”
the two of you laughed, your arms crossing over your chest.
wednesday was starting to get annoyed, was she just not in your line of sight? there was a time that she was all you saw, but now it’s like she was just a dust speck.
she had to make you understand. she was about to speak again until enid interrupted.
“okay wends, we better let her unpack.” enid spoke up, grabbing wednesday’s shoulders and turning her around.
you waved to the both of them.
as you sat back down on your bed, you couldn’t get wednesday’s warning out of your head.
did wednesday know something that you didn’t? was there a reason she was being so mean to you?
you shook your thoughts away, opting to rest your eyes. you slept all your worries away, instead looking forward to your second nevermore journey.
➶ ➶ ➶
wednesday didn’t think you would be back— ever.
she thought her efforts were good enough to keep you away. she was wrong, she should have tried harder to make your life at nevermore a nightmare.
“hey wends?” enid asked her from across the room. “how are you feeling about her being back, really?”
“it’s horrific. this is one of those days that bring me dread— and i mean these words literally.” she said, pacing back and forth. “i normally enjoy dread— just not today.”
“you harbor way too much hate for her. she’s never done anything to you!” enid put her phone down on the bedside in frustration. “is this all because she asked you out?!” enid couldn’t believe it.
“yes.” wednesday said, lying through her teeth.
“seriously?” enid rubbed her fingers over her eyes, growing more annoyed with her roommate.
“yes. i’m serious.” wednesday responded, sitting down on her bed. “i have to get her out of here again.”
“wednesday friday addams!” enid stood, wednesday’s eyes showed some form fear for the first time in a long time. she didn’t enjoy when enid was like this. “you will do no such thing! she’s back because she wanted to be around people like her! you don’t get to make her an outcast in a school for outcasts!” enid’s claws unleashed themselves, a sign of her geniune anger.
wednesday sighed in defeat, her eyes closing, a sign that she needed to think.
enid grumbled before returning to her phone usage. wednesday was acting strange— stranger. and enid had no idea how to help.
➶ ➶ ➶
wednesday stepped onto the grass, her eyes narrowing at the subject in front of her.
the muscles in your back tensed as you drew your bow. you were focused on a target a few meters away from you. you exhaled slowly.
“hello.” she spoke.
“fuck!” you jumped. the arrow flying straight past the target. “addams! jesus…” you held a hand over your heart. “what’re you doing here?”
“came to watch you practice.” she said, firmly. you were taken aback by her answer.
“watch… me… practice?” you repeated back to her in a question.
“yes. i want to write a study about archery.” she came up with a lie to make it more convincing.
“oh… okay?” you tilted your head at her. “what’s the catch? come to stab me with an arrow maybe?” you prodded a bit more.
“no. i just want to have a better idea of the sport.” she shrugged.
“wednesday, you’re an archer too. you’ve done this well enough.” you pulled an arrow from your quiver, lining it up with the bow.
“i know. but i haven’t done it in a while.” she took a seat directly behind you. it was weird to have her just staring straight at you. you shot another arrow and hit the bullseye.
“your form has gotten better.” she commented. you turned your head only slightly.
“after two years of rigorous training, i sure as hell hope so.” you bent down to grab your water bottle, taking a swig of it.
“you should have stayed with it.” wednesday stared up at you, “i don’t know why you’re throwing it all away to come back here.”
you sighed as you drew your bow again, “sometimes normies are just… they don’t get it. they just don’t.” you shot another arrow, hitting the red.
“i suppose. but you’ve never had a problem with normies. you blend in well.”
“okay, wednesday. look…” you turned to her, setting your bow down. “i’ll let you watch me practice if you stop asking me about why i came back, okay?”
“fine.” she begrudgingly agreed.
you turned back to the target, concluding the rest of your practice. you packed away quickly seeing as wednesday helped. she knew her way around the equipment so you were more than happy to accept her help.
“thank you, addams.” you smiled at her as you two got everything packed away. she remained silent.
“when do you practice next?” she questioned you, almost like an interrogation.
“tomorrow at 6pm. i practice in the forest.”
her breath hitched in her throat and you squinted at her.
“don’t you have other places to practice?” she asked and you were left wondering why she didn’t want to go to the forest. she was normally comfortable there.
“i like the forest. it’s better to be in the environment. i get to practice against wind more as well.” you clarified.
“fine. okay. i’ll be there.” she crossed her arms and started to walk away.
she amused you everyday, this one. no wonder you were so drawn to her.
however, over the two years you’d been away, you knew not to let yourself be vulnerable to people who would just hurt you.
and in doing so, you closed your heart to wednesday addams.
➶ ➶ ➶
author’s journal
heyyy pookie nation!!! this is gonna be a little three?? parter that i’ve put together quickly in this internet outage. it’s the only thing i’ve got saved offline so we’ll have to work with what we have right now. i’ve been wanting to write something proper for wednesday so i hope you guys enjoy this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️
i hope to put more stuff out asap <33
kisses xx
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osarina · 6 days ago
Text
ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK
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FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?
AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated
GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).
SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST
“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”
Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-
And he remembers you. 
He remembers you.
He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then… 
“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”
The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.
“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”
His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before. 
“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”
His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him. 
They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man? 
Who is that? 
Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?
Is that-
Blood?
“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”
Shuji? Who’s Shu-
“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”
“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”
Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering? 
Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?
What is going on?
“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”
The leader of the Port Mafia. 
The closest thing you have to a father.
So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.
Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.
How does he fix it? 
Can he fix it?
“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”
He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.
He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…
This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-
Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”
“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”
Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.
He doesn’t know. 
———
The gun in your hand weighs heavily.
You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.
A mistake.
(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)
The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.
A mistake. 
(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)
When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust. 
A mistake. 
(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)
You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.
A mistake. 
(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)
You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that. 
Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?
Did they know?
Did they know?
(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)
Ace opens his mouth to speak.
A mistake. 
“It was nice meeting your-”
Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors. 
Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.
He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.
“Did you know?”
Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.
A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless. 
“No.”
He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.
You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.
He’s always put others before himself. 
You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki. 
“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him. 
Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye. 
“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.
You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.
Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.
“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”
Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.
“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”
You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?
“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”
You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-
To his what?
You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him. 
He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.
You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him. 
Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?
And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did. 
He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.
He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.
His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently. 
Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.
“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.” 
You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.
“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”
“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”
Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?
“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?” 
Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild. 
This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy. 
You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him. 
He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused. 
He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth. 
How much of this was a lie? All of it?
Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.
“Tell me.”
Who are you, Dazai Osamu?
———
Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has. 
Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.
Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could. 
You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away. 
And you won’t even meet his eyes.
Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-
He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached. 
“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”
Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is. 
“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum. 
“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.” 
“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”
“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”
“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”
Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…
“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”
He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.
His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.
He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.
“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.
“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”
He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room. 
“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”
His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before. 
“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”
They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-
“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”
“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”
He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.
He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-
“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar—Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”
Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.
“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”
“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”
Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”
His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-
“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”
“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”
You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia. 
That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born. 
“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”
More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.
You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City. 
Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go. 
“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”
Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-
“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”
The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.
“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”
Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings. 
It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone. 
Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly. 
“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”
He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.
She doesn’t.
She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.
That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.
He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.
“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”
Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive. 
He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.
He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.
“What’s your name, kid?”
Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.
“Dazai Osamu.”
“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?
Odasaku brought him in. 
Odasaku saved him. 
The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-
They were his friends.
Family, maybe.
They were all he had, and they were all he needed. 
And then-
“We were the ones who killed him.”
Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat. 
“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.
“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”
Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.
Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.
“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.
The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it. 
It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.
“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”
Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.
“We were trying to get to you.”
“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”
“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”
“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”
“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”
“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”
Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.
“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”
“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”
Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.
“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”
Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.
Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.
“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”
Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out. 
“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”
No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.
“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”
His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-
Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?
“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”
The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.
“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”
You’re crying.
Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying. 
He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.
He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.
“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”
No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-
“I do.”
Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.
“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”
“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”
“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”
“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”
Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”
You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.
“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?” 
“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”
Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway. 
For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.
“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.
When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.
He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed. 
“I-”
“Stop.”
Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building. 
When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.
The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.
Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.
He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.
A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.
“I d-”
“Stop.”
When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him. 
“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.
“There’s nothing left to say.”
Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports. 
You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.
But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.
Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.
He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.
Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.
The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.
“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”
“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”
Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.
Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.
The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks. 
It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place. 
He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.
You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.
“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”
You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.
“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”
Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-
Why are you doing this?
He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.
His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.
Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.
“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.
“I do,” he replies just as softly.
Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.
“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.
Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead. 
“I do,” Dazai repeats.
You pull the trigger. 
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poguehearted77 · 8 days ago
Text
Oh, Baby!
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Summary-> Today is Rafe's birthday and you're determined to throw him the best surprise party before the baby comes in a few days.
☆Some more content from the baby steps couple☆
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It was a warm summer night, the kind where the air hummed softly with the songs of crickets and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees. The streets were quiet as you and Rafe drove home, the headlights illuminating the road ahead. The stars sparkled in the clear sky above, but they paled in comparison to the anticipation bubbling in your chest.
“I just wish you’d checked to see that the restaurant had space before we came all the way here,” Rafe sighed, his grip firm on the wheel. He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed slightly.
You bit your lip, hiding a smile. You’d already called the restaurant weeks ago and knew they were fully booked. That was the whole point. You needed an excuse to get Rafe dressed up in the nicest clothes the two of you could find without him getting suspicious. It was his birthday, after all, and you wanted tonight to be perfect.
"It was supposed to be one of our final nights together with just the two of us," you murmured, playing your part with feigned disappointment. Your hand rested on the swell of your nine-months-pregnant belly.
The truth was, you’d been planning this for the past month—tirelessly working around Rafe’s attentive nature to keep it a secret. He knew you too well, always noticing the slightest change in your demeanour, and you had to put on the performance of your life.
If he’d caught wind of what you were up to, he’d have put a stop to it immediately. Rafe would’ve thrown a fit if he knew you were doing all this while so close to your due date.
When the two of you finally pulled into the driveway of your generously sized home, Rafe parked the car and came around to your side to help you out, as always. He offered his hand, his protectiveness shining through, and you accepted with a grateful smile.
He makes a teasing remark about your slight waddle, "She's comin' any day now isn't she?" You sigh, "I hope so, but she seems to be getting comfortable." Your eyes glimmer as you watch Rafe unlock the front door. But as soon as the door opened, the quiet night erupted into shouts of “Surprise!”
Rafe’s jaw dropped slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you saw genuine shock in his eyes. The foyer was filled with friends and family, grinning and clapping, balloons crowding the ceiling.
Rafe blinked, then broke into a wide grin, pointing at you. “I knew you were up to something,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, his other hand gently resting over your baby bump. “Happy birthday,” you whispered, feeling his lips press to your temple in gratitude.
You led everyone through the house to the backyard, and that’s when the real surprise hit. The backyard was transformed into a magical wonderland of twinkling fairy lights strung overhead, long tables set with glowing candles, and cozy seating arranged perfectly under the night sky. It was breathtaking.
Rafe took a slow step forward, his gaze sweeping across the setup, a mix of awe and emotion crossing his face. “Wow,” he said softly, looking down at you before his expression morphed into one of concern. “Please tell me you didn't set this up, Y/n.”
You smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling. “Calm down, I made John B and Topper do it,” you admitted with a cheeky grin. Rafe let out a short laugh, his brows raising. “John B and Topper? Together? Without killing each other?”
“Barely,” you teased. “I supervised, don’t worry.”
He was about to respond when a small voice broke through the chatter. “Happy birthday, Uncle Rafe!”
A little whirlwind of blonde curls and bright eyes ran toward him—it was three-year-old JJ in a white frilly dress. Rafe crouched down and scooped her up with ease, laughing as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck.
“Thanks, sunshine,” he said, tossing her gently in the air.
As you watched him, surrounded by loved ones, holding little JJ close, and smiling brighter than you’d seen in a while, you felt the weight of your efforts melt away. It was all worth it. This was a night you’d both remember forever.
Maybe you'd be lucky to erase the forming memory of the radiating pain that coursed through your abdomen. You found yourself fisting the hand towels in the guest bathroom after your bladder incontinence had caught up to you during the middle of Rafe's speech.
God, what did you eat today? Your stomach had been hurting ever since you came back from the restaurant even though you never ate there. Sometimes you get a break, other times there's a sharp reminder shooting through you. Of course, you considered the possibility of contractions but you denied it.
There was no way in hell you were letting this baby come out on Rafe's birthday.
There's a knock on the door. "Just a second--!" Your voice is hoarse, the words coming out through clenched teeth. "Y/n? It's Sarah." With a deep breath, you reach for the door, revealing the pleasant face of your sister-in-law.
"Is everything okay? Rafe is looking for you." You nod, "Yep, everything's--" Another one. Your jaw clenches and your eyes close, doing your best to focus on the conversation at hand. By the time your eyes opened, Sarah was sliding past you into the bathroom.
"Why's the floor all wet.." Her eyes slowly trail from the wet tiles back up to you where you were still gripping the towel in your right palm. Oblivious to the gears grinding in her mind. "Oh shit." You shake your head over and over, immediately shutting the door on you both.
"Sarah, No. No! You can't tell anyone. It's Rafe's birthday." She couldn't believe what she was hearing, her brows furrowed, "Are you joking? You're in labour! You have to tell him and you have to get to the hospital like now."
"No, Please! Just give me 20 minutes, then I'll go." She couldn't believe she was actually considering it but the sheer look of desperation in your eyes convinced her.
"Fine, and not one second more or I'll deliver your baby myself." She threatens with a smile but she's a Cameron, she means every word. "I love you!" You whistle as you head upstairs to change into a different dress and meet everyone back outside.
"Baby, where did you go for so long? What's with the outfit change?" Your eyes are briefly distracted by the servers gracefully floating around the yard with the requested entrées. "O-oh, I started to feel a little hot in the other one--so," There's a contraction, not as bad as some of the others but you're able to suppress it and blame it on thirst.
"Here," He gets you a glass of water and helps you into your chair on the side of his at the head of the table. As if you'd forgotten the itinerary of the party you planned yourself, you're almost startled when the slide show of nearly all the images you could find of Rafe throughout the years is displayed on the projector.
He turns in his seat to glance at you, "You did not," It was all too much for him. You're the woman of his dreams, going above and beyond to show him how much he means to you and this was just a small example of proof.
The slideshow is touching, cute, and funny when the images of baby Rafe covered in pasta pop up. Once it's over John B suggests you say a few words. Kelce and his childish antics start a chant "Speech! Speech! Speech!" Your eyes roll, and with a minor struggle, you rise to your feet, Rafe standing beside you.
"Thank you all for coming, and helping me celebrate Rafe's 25th--" Oh boy, this was a big one, your mouth falls open in a silent cry and your right hand claws into the meat of Rafe's upper arm, it's so tight that he leans into it and his face contorts with discomfort and worry.
The electronic music is still playing softly in the background as all eyes are on you. "Y/n, Y/n, Are you--" Your lip is caught between your teeth bearing down with the pain, nodding aggressively. "We're having the baby!?" He panics but a huge smile is etched onto his features. "We're having the baby." You confirm and he hugs you.
The table is filled with cheers and glasses clinking together. "Go! Go!" Sarah shouts, and you both spring into action. At least Rafe does, he nearly leaves you behind with all the nerves running through his system.
Helping you back inside the house before he runs up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time, quickly coming down with the baby bag you'd both prepared weeks ago.
The next hour is a blur, one second you're standing in your living room waiting for Rafe to bring down your things, and suddenly you're in a backless hospital gown being strapped into the hospital bed, hooked up like a computer.
There are IVs, heart monitors, and everything else you could identify from your binge sessions of Grey's Anatomy.
“Mrs. Cameron?” A voice cut through the haze as the door opened. The doctor entered, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands. Her calm expression faltered as she scanned the notes. “Oh, wow,” she muttered under her breath before looking up at you.
“Is... is everything okay?” you asked nervously, gripping the bed’s railing as you shot a glance at Rafe, who was perched anxiously at your bedside.
“Everything’s fine,” the doctor assured you quickly, though her tone carried a note of disbelief. “But I have to say—I’m a little shocked at how far along you are.”
Your stomach dropped. “Far along? What do you mean?”
“You’re already at nine centimetres,” the doctor explained, flipping another page on her clipboard. “You’re practically ready to push.” That is not what you wanted to hear.
Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—nine? That fast? But I barely knew I was in labour until a few hours ago!” Rafe glances at you in agreement before doing a double take. "A few hours? I thought you just found out at dinner?"
"I knew since we left the restaurant." You coyly admit, and his eyes practically bulge from their sockets. "That was hours ago! Why didn't you tell me?" He seemed almost hurt but his concern overtook it.
"Because it's your birthday, I didn't want the baby to steal your day." He leans up, his gaze softening at your words. "Oh baby, I'd be so lucky to share my birthday with her." His words fall on deaf ears and you pout, eyes glancing at the clock.
10:47
"Well, Mrs. Cameron. It's almost time to start pushing, we're going to transfer you to the delivery room." Everything happened so quickly. Your gaze can hardly focus on anything in the halls as you are pushed past them.
There's one familiar sensation that remained an unchanged variable throughout the whole process. The reassuring hold of Rafe's hand with yours. No matter what, he held on.
When you squeezed his hand so tight with every laborious push. "You're doing good, just a few more pushes and she'll be crowning." Your body throws itself back, defeated. Eyes heavy and your hair sticking to your forehead as you wept.
"I can't, I can't do it. I'm sorry." Rafe's eyes turn mournful, wishing he could take on this pain for you. "Hey, hey. None of that. You're a Cameron now. We get shit done, and you're doing it. You're doing so well, baby. Just keep going, and I'll be right here with you, okay? I love you." He gently moves the hairs sticking to your forehead, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His words give you the strength to keep going.
"Give us another big push in three, two, one-" Your throat is ripped raw from the pained shouts, but it was so worth it. It’s not long before you finally welcomed your baby girl into the world, at 12:01am.
"She's perfect," Rafe says, in awe of his newborn daughter who's delicately swaddled in those hospital blankets at peace in your hold. She looked up at you with her glassy eyes, lips moving in ways that Rafe could swear were a tribute to you.
"I can't believe she came out of me," It's an untraditional thing for one to say after giving birth but it's how you felt. You were still in disbelief at the whole process. From the day you looked at those two lines on that pregnancy test in St. Tropaz, to the gender reveal on the beach all the way to this very moment.
"You did amazing," Rafe reassures you and only a few moments pass where you enjoy the peace of the new reality of your tiny family. There's a soft knock on the door, and Sarah's head pops in awaiting clearance to be let in.
"Come in," You giggle, so excited to introduce her to her aunt, uncle and cousin. John B's face is overcome with shock and Sarah's with glee while JJ focuses on what she wants.
"Oh my god, she's so precious." Sarah beams as she peers over to get a closer look, and you offer her up into her aunt's hold. "What's her name?" John B is the first to ask, and Rafe grins down at you. "Say hello to, Melody Ava Cameron."
Sarah's eyes immediately misted over, she'd been told about the pleasant encounter you both had at the beach with a very lively toddler, but you knew that wasn't the name that touched her the most. "Melody? You named her after mom?" Rafe nods, a tear slipping from his eye as well.
You knew how much she meant to both of them before she passed, you couldn't think of a better name. Rafe places an arm around his sister as they both admire the baby.
"It's a perfect name, I love it. Congratulations."
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