#so if there's like. spelling issues. I am not fixing that sorry

[httpsserene]

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

summary: slightly less innocent, virgin!reader has had her view of pleasure shifted. her libido has increased to insane levels after she finally allowed her boyfriends to fix her…dry spell. charles and max have no issues with helping her ride out her newfound sexual appetite, and figure that she may be ready to take the next step. or, more accurately, take the next hand. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. handjobs. thigh riding. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. charles leclerc is a brat. orgasm denial. there's smidge of humor in here somewhere i think. slight humiliation kink. word count: 4.2k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: gun • doja cat

preface: AHHHH OMG I HAD THIS IN MY QUEUE AND THE DATE WAS 9/12 INSTEAD OF 12/9 I WAS IN THE WOODS WITH SPOTTY CONNECTION ALL DAY AND I HAVE TBLR NOTIFICATIONS OFF ON MY PHONE I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! ALL FUTURE EPISODES WILL BE POSTED AT 12 PM ON THEIR RELEASE DAYS!

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

it’s laughable. you can’t believe that you almost bought a vibrator instead of telling your boyfriends that you were ready to start the sexual aspect of your relationship. actually, it kind of makes you mad—you could’ve been experiencing the most mind blowing levels of pleasure years ago, if you had just gotten over your own insecurity.

max and charles had been dating each other for a couple years before they found you. you were a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, and they were enamored with you as soon as they were introduced. you cringe whenever they reminisce over the first time you met them—the men think it’s the cutest first meeting ever.

they met you on a yacht in monaco. an older member of the ferrari team was retiring and decided to have a relaxed celebratory brunch on a chartered yacht. charles, of course, would be attending; he’s sure he’s most likely contractually obligated to go, but he also enjoys going to these sorts of events, he flourishes and thrives in social settings. however, on this particular day, max and charles had already planned for a date. 

when charles had been forwarded the invitation from andrea (his trainer), who had texted him threats of bodily harm if he didn’t show up—he whined and groveled to max about having to reschedule their date. max had shushed charles’ dramatics, and simply pulled out his phone to show a text thread between him and brad (his trainer), who sent him the invitation to the yacht party. charles made a noise of surprise; this brunch is more relaxed than he thought. max shrugged and pressed a kiss to charles cheek–all they have to do is make an appearance, greet who needs to be greeted, congratulate who needs to be congratulated, and then they can sneak away and leave early for their date.

that was the plan. and everything seemed to be going according to the plan. they had boarded the vessel (nobody knew the rivals had come together), everyone assumed they had just arrived at the same time. they quickly congratulated the retiree, and charles separated from max to go and charm everybody on the boat, while max had gone to take advantage of the brunch spread.

the dutchman was halfway through his second plate of finger food when charles had returned to his side, bringing their trainers and a few engineers along with him. the monegasque was stealing bites of food off his plate, and max gently tapped on the face of his richard mille watch to remind charles that they needed to start wrapping up. 

except, joris had just boarded the yacht—and you were at his side.

charles choked on his bite of stolen food, and max distractedly patted his back to clear his airways. it was like time slowed down, their vision tunneled, and the noise of conversations around them quieted; at the sight of you. you were wearing this light, flowy, orange sundress that complimented your warm brown skin, accessorized with gold jewlery, a pair of heeled tan sandals, and your curly hair was free and blowing in the breeze. you kept your gaze lowered, like you were fearing making eye contact with anybody on board, and you turned to slightly hide behind joris as you frantically whispered to him.

charles and max had decided then and there; they need to know you.

you had parted from joris at the sound of someone calling for you and the sight of you walking away, broke the trance the two drivers had been under.

when charles’ friend made his way over, they were quick to interrogate him about you, and why exactly he’s never introduced you to them before. joris threatened them before he gave them permission to pursue you (not that they needed it), and refused to answer any of their questions about you. he told them to go talk to you, and warned them to be gentle with you—as you have a more shy and introverted personality. it took nearly thirty minutes for charles and max to find where you disappeared too. you were chatting to the retiree, and as soon as you wrapped up the conversation—max inserted himself in your path, and ‘accidentally’ bumped into you.

you stumbled briefly, finding yourself bumping into charles as well. you frantically apologized to the two drivers, eyes wide with embarrassment—and max and charles found themselves vehemently reassuring you that it was their fault, and that you don’t need to apologize.

once you calmed, max started to test the waters.

“it was completely my fault. i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was walking but, i got distracted—because you look too beautiful in this dress.”

your mouth parted in surprise and you giggled awkwardly, not expecting the compliment (charles had to muffle his snort, max is incredibly corny), “oh! thank you—it’s really the dress that’s beautiful.”

the monegasque stepped in, “ah, no that cannot be. the dress only compliments how pretty you are.”

you hummed, eyes flickering between the two of them nervously, and caved to their flattery.

“mmm, thank you…the orange works with my skin tone pretty well.”

“it does,” max agreed with a soft smile, “i must be your favorite driver—since, you’ve dressed in dutch orange.”

your eyes widened, as you giggled at his bold claim, laughing harder when charles’ pretends to be angry at max’s words. the couple watches as your smile shifted from something sweet, to something teasing as you fumbled over what to say in response.

“oh? well, if i did dress for my favorite driver, it would be lando norris. because, this color is more similar to papaya than your dutch orange.”

max scoffed, and charles bursted out laughing—the two of them not expecting the teasing from you, based on how joris led them to believe that you were the shyest thing to walk on earth. 

that interaction had completely cemented their urge to date you. they ended up staying at the yacht party, just talking to you the entire time, enjoying making you blush and fluster, flirting around the limits of how much affection you could take from them. they missed their dinner reservation, but found themselves taking you out to dinner somewhere near the waterfront. 

at the end of the night, you exchanged phone numbers with them and they sweetly told you that they’d reach out to you for a second date. you had made a noise of surprise, completely disbelieving that you were on a date, or that they’d want to see you again. but, charles and max were quick to make their intentions clear as they realized they may have been moving too quickly for you.

you can’t believe that was over two years ago. the boys had been so kind with working hard for your trust, and with a final conversation about how this relationship would work—you had agreed to be their girlfriend. of course, you had your stipulation of not being ready to have sex, but the boys did take that in stride and didn’t try to coerce you into changing that boundary. matter of fact, they had even offered to stop having sex between the two of them if it made you uncomfortable—which you disagreed with on the spot; they didn’t need to limit their actions with each other just because you needed extra time. 

and extra time, ended up being two years. charles and max had waited two years without complaining once, about the fact that you still weren’t ready to have sex with them. apparently, the final aspects that you needed to realize you were ready to have sex were: being unable to get yourself off for a month while they were in the midst of a triple header…and also that, you trust them with your entire soul. 

and goddamn, did their patience result in a valuable reward.

ever since max and charles had cured your dry spell by giving you the most life-changing orgasm from riding max’s thigh, you’ve been insatiable.

it’s like your horny-meter was struck by lightning and was overloaded and stuck at the highest setting—it feels like a perpetual ovulation week. it feels like you can’t look at max’s thighs without getting wet, it feels like you can’t hold charles’ hand without your knees buckling. it wasn’t like you were never horny before the thigh-riding incident (max finds the title hilarious), but to be consistently desperate—you’ve never felt like this before. it’s like the monegasque and the dutchman have awoken your sex drive and shifted it into high gear. your libido has been so insanely high that the men have pretty much offered themselves to you as free-use.

you wake up horny? choose your fighter: charles’ thigh or max’s thigh. you get turned on by charles kissing your cheek? ride his thigh. your tummy knots up when max calls you pretty girl? ride his thigh. your panties get wet when charles comes back from getting a haircut? ride his thigh. your clothes fall off when max smiles at you? ride his thigh. your brain turns to mush when charles and max make out? ride their thighs, twice.

you’ve been so pleasure-crazed that you ended up getting a friction burn from how often you were using their thighs. 

you whimpered in shame as charles rubbed aloe vera on the irritated skin between your legs.

“vior (see)?” charles said to max, who was sitting on the bed next to you holding your hand, “she has sensitive skin—we should not have let her use our thighs so often.”

“ah,” max dismissed, ignoring your mortified whine, he smirked at charles, “she’s just learned how good we can make her feel—forgive her desperation, schatje?”

charles lightly presses on the inflamed skin, and you slightly hiss in pain. he stares at max with an unimpressed expression, 

“and now feeling good too often has her feeling bad, non?”

charles resumed his gentle massage of aloe vera, as he continued to bicker with max about you, like you weren’t lying right there. mortification had the melanated skin of your cheeks flushing with a visible blush, and you muffled your embarrassed whimper into max’s thigh. the humiliation of your boyfriends discussing your barely-sex related injury as if you aren’t present should have been horny-level reduction material—but secretly, you enjoyed it; just a little bit. 

with a pained gasp, you slammed your thighs shut around charles’ hand when he passed over a more seriously-raw area of skin. his hand was forced up, and it brushed firmly against your cunt—and that previously pained gasp transformed into a moan of pleasure. the conversation around you silenced abruptly. you kept your eyes tightly shut, refusing to pull away from the safe haven of max’s thigh. you heard charles laugh disbelievingly, and with his free hand he easily pulled your thighs apart with little effort. the casual show of strength only had you getting wet. 

he made a show of flexing the hand that was entrapped between your thighs, before he dropped two of his fingers on top of your panties and guided them to circle over your clit through the thin cloth. your eyes flew open, and with a squeal your hips bucked up to chase his hand; but he was too quick, and pulled away, using that same hand to hold your hips down on the bed.

“you’re so horny that you completely forgot about the friction-burn you have on your thighs from your previously extremely horny activities,” max deadpanned, staring down at you with a blank expression.

“i can’t help it,” you murmured shyly, “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” max stated, releasing his grasp of your hand to brush his thumb across your cheek, “nothing’s touching your cunt for a week.”

“huh? WHAT? why? no—why not?” you blurted out in confusion, ignoring charles’ snort.

“liefje—you could barely handle charles rubbing the gel into your skin; you are too sore and inflamed. no pillows, no hands, no thighs.”

you humphed, knowing max is right, but not wanting to admit it. 

“that’s torture! i just started getting to experience real pleasure and now i can’t even cum for a week?!” you whined up at max with pleading eyes.

“you went without using our thighs for two years—you can handle a week, mon coeur,” charles patted your hip with an annoying smile, before he climbed off the bed to put the gel away.

“charles, don’t tease her,” max sighed, “it’s just a week, pretty girl. you’ll be fine.”

you are not fine.

it’s the slowest time has ever passed in your entire life. honestly, the nerve of your boyfriends to have beautifully muscled thighs around you. you’ve been put in horny jail–seriously! the two men seem to have a radar for whenever you start to get turned on. no matter how hard you try to suppress any changes in your body language or facial expression, they sus you out in a few seconds. it’s uncanny; before you even open your mouth to try and persuade them into anything, they squish your cheeks together and say, “not yet,” and then walk away to give you space to calm down. every instance of this in the first couple of days was more mortifying than the aloe-vera gel application situation (which max now applies for you since charles couldn’t refrain from teasing you), but you quickly became desensitized.

max will not budge. he lets you whine, grovel, beg, promise, and plead. he sits through your whole monologue of desperation on day four, and smiles the entire time. when you finish your expertly delivered request to be allowed one orgasm from his thigh, he pats you on the ass and walks away. the amount of rage that filled you was probably unhealthy–how the fuck does he manage to be so unfazed?

charles, on the other hand, you could break. on day five, you trapped him in bed, sneakily convincing him to spend five more minutes with you while max brushed his teeth. you were quick to initiate sweet kisses, humming into the press of his lips, before you pull away and squirm on top of him to straddle his torso. 

the love-tinted haze cleared from his eyes as soon a he puzzled out your motive, and the monegasque moved to guide you off his body, but you halted him, pressing a firm hand in the middle of his bare chest. 

“c’mon cha–just let me, it’s been so long,” you pout down at him, doe-eyes wide and pleading, “don’t you wanna make me feel good?”

charles wavered–it has been so long. he doesn’t think he’d forget how your face looks as you orgasm, but it would be nice to see it again. you slowly grind your hips down on his, and charles manages to hold back any noises, but his eyes flutter in pleasure. the brunet halts your hips when he sees the brief flicker of discomfort appear in the furrow of your brows.

“ah, regarde toi (look at you)!” charles tuts disapprovingly, “you know you aren’t ready, just wait a little longer!”

you climb off of his lap, and bury your face in the pillow next to him, muffling a dramatic scream to make sure he knows how displeased you are. he rubs your back soothingly, letting you release your anger, before you flip over and huff.

“fine–whatever. two more days. two more days…for me,” you murmur, ignoring charles’ squint at your words, “just because i can’t do anything doesn’t mean you two can’t, right?”

charles shrugs his agreement, “yes, i guess. we haven’t came since you can’t. we were just planning to wait for your skin to recover.”

your heart warms at their abstinence, and the gears of your brain start turning. 

“hmm. you know you don’t have to wait for me? i kind of got myself into this situation and it’s not fair for–”

“no. max and i are both responsible too,” charles cut you off, “we should’ve taken more care to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far.”

“i don’t blame you guys–i was jumping the two of you everytime you so much as breathed in the same room as me. but, that’s not the point! i was going to say: shouldn’t i thank you guys properly?” 

“quoi? how?” he tilted his head to the side in question.

“i mean, isn’t it time i learn how to make you feel good too? i’ve kind of taken advantage of you, and never thought about making sure you guys feel good, like me.”

“how can you say that, mon amour? you make us feel good everytime we make you feel good,” charles sees that you don’t quite believe him, “you don’t notice how tight our pants get when you sit on our thighs? after you’ve finished, we sneak away to the bathroom to relieve ourselves! trust me, we feel very good with you.”

“hey! that’s my point–i want to make you guys…cum,” you whispered, “not have you sneak away to go do it yourself. can’t you teach me? isn’t now the best time for me to learn when i can’t be distracted by my own orgasm?”

“as long as you avoid rubbing yourself on anything, i’m actually okay with this,” max’s voice carried from the doorway, causing you and charles to jump in surprise. neither of you heard him open the en-suite door.

the dutchman walked over and sat on the bed next to charles, who eagerly supported your suggestion now that max said it was okay. 

“c-can…can we do it now?” you asked quietly, simultaneously afraid of a possible rejection and the idea itself.

the younger man hummed, and sat up next to max. he smirked at the blonde, “i’m sure he can’t say no to the opportunity of having me teach you how to touch him just the way he likes.”

you may have miscalculated, to some degree. does everything about max have to big? big mouth, big hands, big thighs, big…dick. your brain stops functioning at the sight—max sitting with his back against the headboard, legs spread open comfortably, uncaring of how exposed he is, his cock half-hard and still growing where it rests on his thigh, and don’t forget his self-satisfied smirk at the sight of your shock. you squirm from your seat in between his legs and charles steadies you from his position behind you, bracketing your body within the two of them.

the monegasque shifts forward, hooking his chin on your shoulder with his chest pressed along your back, and hums softly, “all of that ,” charles pauses and moves his right hand to apply pressure on your navel, “is going to be deep inside of you soon.”

“ ‘s not gonna fit in me.”

“we’ll make it fit,” max states. you whimpered at his confident tone, and you could feel charles muffle his chuckle in the crook of your neck. 

the click of the lube bottle opening caused you to flinch back into charles, who soothed you with a pat on the hip. the brunet carefully squeezed out a small amount of lube into your right palm and murmured instructions for you to warm up the liquid. he then guided your hand to grasp max’s dick, who sighed softly at your touch.

“touch him however you want, mon ange,” the monegasque directed, “get used to how he feels and then we can make him feel good.”

swallowing down your apprehension, you lightly trace a finger down his shaft, marveling at how he’s a few of your fingers in girth and decently longer than the size of your hand (that’s definitely not fitting inside of you, they have no idea what they’re talking about). you drag the tip of your pointer finger up along the vein on his underside to the head of his cock. the tip is flushed with an attractive shade of pink complimenting the pale skin of his body, and it’s a beautiful contrast to the brown skin on the back of your hand. you wrap your palm around him gently and brush your thumb over the head, making a noise of surprise at his cock twitching in your grasp. a drop of pre-cum beads in the slit and you curiously drag a finger to collect it; you pause, before you bring your finger to your mouth and flick out your tongue to taste it.

it almost tastes like nothing? slightly bitter, a little salty—but, it’s good. he tastes good. 

max groans and the sound of his head falling back and hitting the headboard reminds you that the cock you’re feeling up is attached to him. 

a broken rasp of, “fuck,” slips from his lips, and charles kisses your cheek in approval.

“ah-you’re so good at this already, mon amour,” charles cheered, “let’s give him a hand, together.”

he brings his left hand around your body to join yours around max’s, and leads you through the motions. he starts you on half strokes, having you circle your hand around the head, while he focuses on mimicking your motions around the base. you can see the muscles of max’s abdomen and thighs clenching with the effort of not thrusting forward into your hand.

“shit,” max moans, “the two of you will be the death of me.”

charles nips a mark right behind you ear, “move your hand like this—oui, just like that—and press your palm around the head—good girl—just keep doing that for me, mon amor.”

max groans roughly at the focused attention on the sensitive tip of his dick; he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly. the sight of charles teaching you how to give him a proper handjob is going to keep him up at night.

“liefje, you’re doing such a good job,” max pants, “going to make come already, pretty girl—are you going to lick my cum off your fingers too?”

you moan highly at his words, nodding your head quickly in agreement, eager to keep being good for him. max continues to run his mouth as he gets closer to orgasm: ‘you and charles should taste the cum off your hand together,’ ‘he can’t wait to get his hands and mouth on you,’ etc.

with a stuttered breath, max warns you that he’s cumming—and charles yanks your hand off of him; ruining max’s orgasm. the dutchman shouts in frustration, his hips bucking up freely now, trying to chase the delicious friction that was stolen from him.

with flushed cheeks, max yells, “what the fuck, charles!” and you turn to look at charles, who’s sitting behind you with an extra-pleased smirk on his face. the brat shrugs nonchalantly, not offering an explanation. you bring your hand back to grasp max’s cock—and repeat the same motion of twisting your palm around the head, to lead max back to an orgasm. he moans in relief, thankfully the edge of release didn’t slip away from him entirely—and then you bring your other hand up to make up for charles’. 

all it takes is a few more synced strokes, and max cums. you feel the warmth of his release coat your fingers, but your eyes are stuck on his expression. his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, his chest heaving, mouth red and flushed from where he was biting at his bottom lip, and you can see the pleasure washing over his face—goddamn, you wish you were feeling what he is. in the haze of appreciating how he looks when he comes, you fail to stop your hands from continuing your motions and max’s hands fly down to halt you once the pleasure slips into too-much.

when he makes eye-contact with you, you raise your cum-covered hand to your mouth and make a show out of tasting his cum. you moan sweetly and smack your lips—honestly, you don’t particularly like or dislike the taste, but the way max’s eyes widen at your display makes you think you’ll learn to love it. he watches you lick your hands clean, and murmurs out a faint, “what the actual hell, liefje.”

“and, you,” the older man’s expression hardens as he directs his cold gaze on charles, “we’re not touching you for two weeks.”

“por quoi?!,” the monegasque pretends as if he doesn’t know exactly what he did.

you and max both ignore charles’ whining, and you smile extra sweetly at max as you wiggle onto his lap, “may i use your thigh, please?”

he digs his thumb into the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you yelp lightly. 

“two more days, liefje,” max orders, “and if you’re patient, you can have more than just my thigh.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris@xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld@hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @ggaslyp1 @idontgotopartiesanymore @woozarts @yourlilitha @smartstupyd

© httpsserene2023

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁  ! ⺌ . ⸺  NPE! 

PART ONE! | Volume I

Synopsis; "So, you’re an alien, huh?" Yeah, sure, maybe you’re a little... different. But honestly, who isn’t? The earthlings think you’re weird? Nope. It’s just that they’re a bunch of clueless humans, totally missing the point. You, on the other hand, have a higher calling. A mission to discover the meaning of life—you know, the whole ‘why am I here, and what am I supposed to be doing’ thing. Simple, right?

Except, uh... there’s a small hiccup. You don’t even know what species you are, because someone forgot to leave the alien instruction manual. Oops. So, while you’re out there doing some random side gig (you know, the one that might help you find out more about your roots and, oh yeah, pay the rent), you accidentally get tangled up in the lives of two earthlings.

Of course, you swear to protect them because, well, you kind of owe them. Maybe. Or maybe not. Who’s to say? Either way, your purpose might get a little... distracted. But hey, priorities, right?

Pairing ── Dan Da Dan x Alien! Fem/Neutral? Reader.

Content. MDNI ── Manga Spoilers, Violence/Death, Blood, Invasion of Privacy, Invasion of Mind, Abduction, Kidnapping, Angst, Murder, Disturbing Content, Corruption, Isolation,Paranoia, Manipulation, Unintended Time Travel Mishaps, Alien Romance Tropes, Sudden Existential Crises, Unexplained Tentacle Appearances, Turbo Granny's Sass, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gravity-Defying Physics, Psychic Overload, Ambiguous Yōkai Allegiances, Excessive Hair-Related Powers, Sudden Dance Battles in Crisis, Outdated Alien Fashion Choices, Malfunctioning Spacecraft Humor, Intense Staring Contests, Time-Dilated Cliffhangers, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Overwhelming Amounts of Sparkles, Polyamory, LGBTQ+ Content, ¿Gender-fluid or Non-binary Character? (Not with respect to pronouns, but to their genitals xd), Unconventional Relationship Dynamics, Consent Issues in Alien Interactions, Mind-altering Love Spells, Extreme Jealousy, Existential Dilemmas on Love and Identity, Mind-Controlling Aliens.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish— Oh my god, how did this happen 😱 sorry to everyone (@flwes & @redberrysstuff) who saw the incomplete story, I feel SO embarrassed. Ugh, I swear, autocorrect and my clumsiness are going to kill me one of these days. :"(( But seriously, I promise the full version is coming, just give me a second to fix it.

"Idiot! Moron! Squid! Tuna!" Momo Ayase shouted from the ground, her face flushed with rage as she watched her now ex-boyfriend walk away with that annoying mix of guilt and annoyance in his eyes. "Never call me again!"

"Momo? Are you okay? Or should I sign up for the next round of sea insults?" asked a familiar voice behind her.

Momo turned around, still frowning, but the sight disarmed her a bit. There was Y/n Seigai, with that carefree energy that always seemed straight out of a movie. She wore a short plaid skirt and a white blouse that highlighted her figure, complemented by long socks and platform shoes with a puma print that screamed confidence. Her makeup was simple yet striking, enough to make anyone turn to look at her. And, as always, she had something in her hand: this time, a frozen yogurt popsicle that she licked absently as if nothing in the world could disturb her calm.

"Late again, huh?" Momo huffed, crossing her arms and standing up, her gaze as severe as a frustrated mother.

"What? Was that a 'thank you for coming to the rescue, Y/n'? Because if so, your tone needs a little work," Y/n replied with a cheeky smile, making an exaggerated gesture to offer her a lick of her popsicle. "Want some? Frozen yogurt cures broken hearts. It's science."

"I don't want your stupid popsicle, idiot! And stop changing the subject! You're late to school again! Do you know how many times I've been asked why you can't arrive on time? I feel like your babysitter!"

Y/n theatrically sighed, placing a hand on her chest as if Momo had wounded her pride. "Oh, Momo. Always so responsible, so punctual... except when you decide to sleep in on Mondays. Remember last Monday? Because I do; you were running out with a toast in your mouth."

Momo opened her mouth to retort but quickly shut it, blushing a little. "That was different! And don’t change the subject!"

"Okay, okay, sorry, mom," Y/n said with a mischievous smile, raising her hands in a sign of surrender. "But in my defense, it's not my fault that the coffee at that corner is so good it makes me lose track of time."

"You have a watch on your wrist, Y/n! And a phone with alarms! ALARMS!"

"Well, my alarms and I have a complicated relationship..." Y/n murmured as she took another lick of the popsicle.

Momo couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh, although her lips curled slightly into a smile. That was the dynamic with Y/n: serious and responsible when necessary but with enough chaotic moments to drive her crazy. And even though sometimes she wanted to give her a good lecture, she couldn't deny that Y/n always knew how to lift her spirits, even on days like today.

"Come on, Momo. Let's get to class. I promise we'll make it before the bell rings... probably," Y/n said, offering her the popsicle as a peace gesture.

"Probably isn’t good enough! And I don’t want your silly popsicle," Momo shot back, but she couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as they started walking together.

As they crossed the school gates, Momo and Y/n couldn’t help but draw attention. They were, without a doubt, a striking pair: Momo, with her natural charisma and perfectly polished gyaru style, walked with purpose while continuing to rant about her now ex-boyfriend; Y/n, on the other hand, exuded a magnetic nonchalance, her skirt swaying with each step and a yogurt popsicle still in her hand, as if school were just another runway in her day.

"And then he has the nerve to say I’m playing hard to get! Can you believe it?" Momo gestured dramatically, as if still arguing with her ex.

"Mm-hmm," Y/n murmured, not stopping her slow lick of the popsicle. "Sounds like someone needs a 'How Not to Be an Idiot' manual. Should I mail him one?"

"Not even that! He’d probably lose it, like he loses all common sense," Momo shot back, rolling her eyes.

As they made their way down the hallway, students stepped aside to let them pass—some admiring their style, others whispering comments among themselves. Momo was so engrossed in her complaints she barely noticed the stares. Y/n, however, threw the occasional wink or offered a carefree smile, as if she were used to being the center of attention.

"Can you stop flirting with the entire hallway? I’m having a crisis here!" Momo snapped, giving her a light nudge.

"Flirting? I’m just being friendly. But if you want all my attention, Momo, you only have to ask," Y/n replied with a mischievous grin.

"God, you’re unbearable!"

Finally, they reached their classroom, where their other two friends, Miko and Muko, were waiting.

Miko was seated by the window, her small bow perfectly in place and her uniform impeccable, though always with her personal touch. Her beige sweater and loosely tied ribbon gave her a relaxed vibe, but her bright smile showed she was ready for a day full of energy.

Muko, in contrast, was impossible to ignore. Her tan skin stood out against her blonde hair styled into pigtails, and the manba makeup she wore proudly added a bold edge to her look. Her uniform followed the same pattern as the other girls', but on her, everything seemed a bit more daring—from the slightly oversized sweater to the way her loose socks fell perfectly over her sandals.

"Wow! Took you long enough," Miko said with a smile as she saw them walk in. "I thought you’d actually be on time today."

"Tell that to Miss 'Coffee is More Important Than Punctuality,'" Momo replied, giving Y/n an accusatory look.

"Me? I arrived just in time to make this spectacular entrance," Y/n said, spinning dramatically before flopping into her seat.

"Jealous, Miko?" Muko chimed in as she adjusted one of her pigtails. "They walk in, and the whole hallway stares. People only look at us when Miko shouts something ridiculous."

"Hey! That was one time," Miko retorted, crossing her arms with feigned indignation.

Momo let out a sigh, but a smile began to form on her lips. Being with them was always like this: chaotic, fun, and somehow reassuring.

"Alright, girls, now that we’re all here, I need advice. How do you get over an idiot who just wants you to pay for everything and only cares about sleeping with you?"

"Easy," Y/n said, raising her popsicle as if it were a trophy. "You get over him by being yourself: brighter, more fabulous, and completely out of his league. Like always, Momo."

"Amen," added Muko, lifting her phone for a quick selfie with Miko, who automatically struck a pose.

Momo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. Yes, her group was a mess in its own way, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

"Okay, seriously, what happened? Why are you so upset? We know it’s not because of Y/n, because when you’re mad at her, you yell louder than a megaphone," Miko said, raising an eyebrow with that teasing attitude she always had when she wanted to get under Momo’s skin.

Momo let out a heavy sigh and flopped onto the desk. "Nothing... that idiot dumped me, and then I started insulting him... using fish names."

Y/n, who was lounging back in her chair with her feet on the desk as if she were at home, couldn’t hold back a laugh. "Fish names. Like ‘Tuna’ and ‘Squid’. Because I’m sure that hurt his feelings a lot. Wow, Momo, terrifying. Do you really think that’s going to change his mind?"

"Ha, I’m dying," Muko said, testing a bit of her makeup while laughing. "Fish names aren’t insults, Momo. What were you expecting, ‘Shark’ or ‘Piranha’? Now those might be scary!"

Momo frowned, looking at her friends as if they were aliens. "You’re supposed to comfort me! He was my first boyfriend! My first, girls!" Momo waved her hands dramatically, as if she had lost something truly valuable.

Muko looked at her with a mix of sympathy and exasperation. "We told you to forget about him, Momo. It was obvious he wasn’t worth it."

Y/n nodded with mock seriousness, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Yeah, can you remind me what was supposed to be so great about him? Was it the guy who always wore shirts two sizes too small? Or was it his talent for making you feel bad every time you talked about your dreams?"

"It’s just... he looked like Ken Takakura," Momo replied, as if it were an irrefutable justification, throwing her hands up as if there were nothing more to say.

The three friends sighed in unison, a sound so synchronized it could have been rehearsed.

"There she goes again..." Muko muttered, shaking her head and placing a hand on her forehead in a dramatic pose.

"Ugh, here we go," Miko said, glancing at Y/n and raising an eyebrow. "The story of the guy who ‘looked like’ Ken Takakura. Momo, are you sure you don’t have a poster of him at home?"

"She doesn’t just have a poster, let me tell you," Y/n said, remembering the time she stayed over at Momo’s house while her grandmother was away for a few days.

Y/n, who had just finished her popsicle and was now grinning mockingly at the others, tossed the stick out the window with perfect precision. "Here we go with your nonsense again, Momo. First it was ‘Ken Takakura,’ then it’ll be ‘Tom Cruise,’ and next you’ll tell me you fell for some guy who looks like an anime character. Stop idealizing guys, seriously."

Momo shot her a glare. "It’s not the same, Y/n! Ken Takakura is an icon, a real man!"

"Yeah, a movie man probably under contract with boredom, because guys like him don’t exist in real life," Y/n said, striking a dramatic pose as she crossed her arms.

Momo shrugged. "I don’t know what it is about him… but there’s something, I swear."

"What he has is that he’s in movies, not real life," Miko replied with a somewhat philosophical tone, as if she’d just imparted a profound truth about reality.

"So what, huh!? I like tough guys, like Ken Takakura!" Momo shouted, raising her hand as if she’d just made a worldwide announcement about her love for cinematic men.

Miko and Muko exchanged glances and, with almost perfect synchronization, replied, "Momo, we’ve got a surprise for you… those men are extinct."

Momo immediately dropped her head, as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her. Her shoulders slumped, and her smile vanished in an instant. "What? Extinct? That can’t be true!" she muttered, as if she’d just taken a direct hit to the heart.

"Sorry, Momo," Miko said with a mischievous smile. "Men like that don’t exist anymore. All we’ve got now are guys in sweatpants with cat wallpapers on their phones."

Momo let out a deep sigh, an exaggerated expression of sorrow crossing her face. "So what?! What am I supposed to do with my life? Settle for guys who don’t even know what a good hairstyle is?!"

With the theatrics worthy of a telenovela star, Momo stood from her seat, leaving the others watching as she exited the classroom as if she’d just lost the most important battle of her life.

"Did what we said hurt her feelings?" Miko asked, a faint smile on her face, though she already knew the answer.

"No," Y/n replied, standing up without looking back, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and concern. "It hurt because it’s true."

Momo, on the verge of stepping into the hallway, didn’t notice Y/n following her. As Y/n caught up, she saw Momo walking with slumped shoulders, as if she were on a farewell mission for her love life.

Y/n walked up to her side and, with a playful smile, nudged her shoulder lightly. "Come on, Momo, don’t be like that. There are still guys out there who aren’t complete disasters."

Momo gave her a sad look. "I don’t know, Y/n. Maybe tough guys are just a fantasy. Like Ken Takakura. A legend of the past!"

"Well, if you ask me, the real tough guy is standing right here!" Y/n said, pointing a thumb at herself with a cheeky grin. "Forgot about us? We’re the tough ones now."

Momo glanced at her sideways, a flicker of humor returning to her eyes. "The problem is I don’t have time for girls who make bad jokes."

Y/n followed her, chuckling softly. "I’m the best company you could ask for, and I’ll prove it!"

The two walked down the hallway, leaving the classroom behind, Momo still a little down but starting to relax, with Y/n beside her as always—joking, stylish, and promising that there was always something better than a movie fantasy.

"Let’s go, Momo," Y/n said with a sly smile. "Tough guys may not exist anymore, but we’re unstoppable!"

Momo couldn’t help but smile, even if just a little. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad after all.

As Momo and Y/n passed by the nearest classroom, they couldn’t help but notice a group of boys throwing paper balls at a smaller, scrawnier boy with a hairstyle clearly modeled after Nobita from Doraemon.

Momo frowned immediately, spotting the bullying behavior. Y/n tensed beside her. Both of them hated bullies, and they weren’t about to stand by and do nothing.

One of the boys, grinning stupidly, picked up a paper ball and said loudly, "Stick a magnet in it! That’s gotta hurt!"

As he prepared to throw it, now with a magnet inside, a shadow loomed over him. Turning around, he found Momo sitting in front of him, her expression unimpressed. Behind him, Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her gaze so intense it could’ve melted anything in its path.

"Hey," Momo asked, looking at the boy with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. "What are you reading?"

"Uh… this…" the boy stammered, glancing nervously between the bullies and the girls.

The boys throwing the paper balls didn’t seem to realize what was happening. They turned back to their antics, ignoring the two girls who weren’t about to stay quiet.

Momo quickly stood up, shooting the bullies one last look. "What a bunch of idiots," she said, rolling her eyes. "It’s like this world is full of losers."

Y/n sighed, observing the chaos with a smile that hid something deeper. She was about to leave with Momo until her eyes caught the title of the magazine the boy was reading.

"The Occult," she read aloud, raising an intrigued eyebrow and smiling faintly. "Interesting…" she murmured before stepping toward Momo, leaving the minor chaos of the classroom behind.

"Come on, Momo," Y/n teased as she walked alongside her. "You look like you just had to pay taxes or something. Relax."

"You’d feel the same way if you were surrounded by idiots!" Momo snapped, crossing her arms indignantly.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice thundered behind them:

"MOMO AYASE! Y/N SEIGAI!"

"Huh? Now what?" Momo said, turning around with a frown.

It was the nerd from earlier. He was running toward them with all his might, gasping for breath as if he’d just escaped a marathon. When he reached them, he stopped so abruptly he almost fell over.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he shouted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"What?" Y/n asked, visibly confused, glancing at Momo with a raised eyebrow.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU LIKE!" he repeated, louder this time, with an oddly intense conviction. "That’s the only reason someone like you would talk to someone like me!"

Momo blinked slowly and then let out an exaggerated sigh. "You’ve already said that. Can you switch up your dialogue? You sound like a broken record."

Y/n put a hand to her face, muttering, "Have you lost your mind? Where did you even get that crazy idea?"

The boy looked at them with desperate eyes, as if he was about to reveal some cosmic secret. "I’m talking about this!" he exclaimed, pulling something out as if presenting irrefutable proof.

Both girls tilted their heads simultaneously, trying to figure out what he was holding.

"Is that... a magazine?" Momo asked, squinting.

"Yes! A limited edition of The Occult! I know you’re into this because I saw how you looked at it earlier! President Obama has already been to Mars! This is the full story of the Pegasus Project! You’re into the paranormal!"

Momo closed her eyes and ran a hand over her forehead, clearly trying to summon some patience. "Look, genius, we’re not planning to be your best friends or start a paranormal book club with you. We don’t believe in UFOs or aliens."

"They’re not UFOs, they’re UAPs! Unidentified Aerial Phenomena!" the boy yelled enthusiastically, holding up the magazine like it was some sacred manifesto.

He began talking again, with a passion that seemed endless. Y/n listened with a half-smile, entertained by the chaos he brought with him. But soon, she felt Momo’s hand squeeze hers—a clear sign: Momo was about to lose her temper.

And then, she exploded.

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?! MY HEART’S BEEN BROKEN, AND I’M NOT IN THE MOOD! AND YOU’RE SO ANNOYING WITH YOUR NERD STORIES THAT NOBODY CARES ABOUT, OKAY?! THAT’S WHY YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS!"

The boy froze, his mouth open and his eyes wide like saucers. Even Y/n, who was used to Momo’s outbursts, raised an eyebrow. "Ouch. Low blow," she murmured, mostly to herself.

Still fuming like a volcano, Momo pointed at the boy. "Don’t even think about talking to us again! Let’s go, Y/n!"

But Y/n didn’t move. She looked at the boy with some pity, her eyes softening. She stepped toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey... she didn’t mean it, okay? She’s upset because she had a bad day. Don’t take it to heart," she said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Momo stopped and turned around, clearly picking up on Y/n’s accusatory tone even though she hadn’t said anything else. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine! I’m sorry, dude! I went too far. Happy now?"

She picked up the magazine that had fallen to the floor and handed it back to the boy, though her lips were still pursed. "But don’t get excited. I don’t believe in aliens. I’m more into ghosts and spirits, got it?"

Out of nowhere, the boy started laughing—not a polite chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh that echoed down the hallway.

"Don’t tell me you actually believe in spirits," he said, still laughing as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Momo froze, her frown deeper than ever. "Are you making fun of me?!" she shouted, stepping toward him with clenched fists.

Before anyone could react, the two launched into a heated argument. Momo insisted that spirits were real, while the boy passionately defended his UAPs. Y/n, stuck between them like a referee in a wrestling match, glanced toward the hallway. There stood Miko and Muko, watching the scene with amused smiles as they whispered to each other.

"These two are hopeless," Y/n muttered under her breath, feeling her patience wear thin.

Finally, she snapped.

"ENOUGH! YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!" she yelled, pushing them apart with a hand on each shoulder. Her voice was so loud that even Miko and Muko stopped laughing to peek in with curiosity.

"Here’s the deal," Y/n said, crossing her arms authoritatively. "If Momo proves that spirits exist, you’ll become her personal errand boy. But if you prove that UFOs—sorry, UAPs—are real, then she’ll be your errand girl."

Both of them stared at her in disbelief.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" they shouted in unison, their faces a mix of shock and panic.

Y/n smirked, her tone daring as if she’d just announced the rules of a reality show. "It’s a bet. Take it or leave it."

Momo opened her mouth to protest but then glanced at the boy with a competitive glint in her eyes. "Errand boy, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad."

The boy blinked, clearly trying to process what had just happened. Finally, he raised his chin, determined. "Fine! But get ready to carry my stuff when I win."

Momo narrowed her eyes. "Me? Carry your stuff? Dream on, loser!"

From the hallway, Miko and Muko started laughing again.

"This is gonna be good," Miko said.

"I’m definitely not missing this," Muko added.

Y/n sighed, looking at the two challengers with exhaustion. "Great, now you’re both committed. But if you waste my time, I swear both of you will end up being my errand boys!"

They both nodded, though they still exchanged defiant glares. Y/n couldn’t help but smile. This was either going to be very interesting… or completely chaotic.

⊹ ・・───・・・・───・・ ⊹

"What is this place?! I’M GONNA DIE OF FEAR!" screamed Momo, clinging to you like a lifeline in the middle of the ocean. Her grip was so tight that you seriously considered whether you’d pass out from lack of air or from the creepy atmosphere of the hospital.

"Relax, Momo," you sighed, trying to wiggle free while scanning the surroundings. Nagi University Hospital didn’t disappoint: graffiti-covered walls, broken windows, dark hallways, and that classic feeling that something was watching you from the shadows. "Though… yeah, this place is pretty unsettling."

"UNSETTLING?! THIS IS STRAIGHT OUT OF A HORROR MOVIE!" Momo shrieked, practically climbing on top of you.

On the other end of the phone, the guy sounded thrilled. "Stop whining! Nagi Hospital is one of the prime spots for UFO sightings! They say if you’re on the rooftop, you get abducted!"

"What’s abduction?" Momo whispered in your ear.

"It’s when aliens kidnap you and experiment on your body," you whispered back.

"Hey, genius, why the rooftop?" you asked, frowning as you tried to keep Momo at a reasonable distance. "What does the rooftop have to do with UFOs?"

"Because UFOs can’t land in the basement, OBVIOUSLY!" he replied triumphantly, as if he’d just solved a universal mystery.

"Are you kidding me…? WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND BUILDS A HOSPITAL WHERE YOU GET ABDUCTED?!" shouted Momo, clearly on the verge of throwing the phone out the window.

"And who in their right mind goes willingly to an abandoned hospital for fun? Oh, wait... you two."

"THAT’S IT!" Momo yelled, red with indignation, and if you hadn’t stopped her, she probably would’ve smashed the phone against the nearest wall.

"Okay, okay, enough, both of you!" you interrupted, rubbing your temples. "Listen, Nobita of the UFO fandom, you focus on your tunnel and tell us if you see anything weird. We’ll try not to die or get abducted, deal?"

"Perfect! And record everything! This could change history!" he said excitedly, as if already drafting his speech for NASA.

"Sure, sure. If aliens take me, I’ll make sure to Facetime you," you muttered as Momo tugged at your arm.

"YOU GO FIRST! I’M NOT GOING ALONE!" Momo demanded, pointing at the dark hallway leading to the rusty elevator.

"Me first? I’d rather we just go home and call it a day. We’ve done enough for one evening."

Momo huffed but then crossed her arms and stared at the floor, thoughtful. "If we leave now, that idiot’s gonna laugh at us all week."

"What do you prefer? Him laughing at us, or us getting abducted? Because I know where my priorities lie, and aliens don’t make the top 10."

There was a brief silence as you both weighed your options. Finally, Momo sighed dramatically, like she’d just decided to climb a mountain. "Fine, but if anything weird happens, you handle it. I’m just gonna scream and run, deal?"

"I wouldn’t expect anything less from you," you replied with a tired smile as the two of you ventured into the dark hallway. The echo of your footsteps bounced off the empty walls, while the guy on the other end of the phone kept rambling about "electromagnetic phenomena and alien microwaves."

"By the way!" said the guy, as if he had just remembered something. "If you see strange lights, don’t get close. They’re a sign of imminent abduction."

"Great," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Anything else we should know before we get abducted?"

"Yeah, if you get abducted, ask them how they travel faster than light. I’m really interested in that!"

"WHAT KIND OF PSYCHOPATH THINKS ABOUT THAT AT A TIME LIKE THIS?!" Momo screamed, and this time, you couldn’t help but laugh. At least the strange humor was helping to calm the terror a little.

"Hey, kid, let’s be honest... you’ve never seen a UFO in your life, have you?" Momo asked, crossing her arms and looking at him with a mix of disdain and curiosity.

The guy adjusted his glasses, clearly offended. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT REGRESSIVE HYPNOSIS IS?"

"DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!" Momo snapped, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "I asked you something very simple."

He raised a finger, completely ignoring her while striking a dramatic pose. "THE QUESTION ISN’T WHETHER I’VE SEEN A UFO..."

"Uh-huh, sure," murmured Y/n, rolling their eyes.

"WHAT MATTERS ARE THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE THEORY!" he continued, in such a serious tone that it sounded like he was giving a lecture on astrophysics.

Momo sighed, clearly losing patience. "Again with your nonsense, oh my god. Don’t you ever get tired? Or do you recharge with solar batteries?"

"THIS ISN’T NONSENSE! IT'S SCIENCE! IT’S TRUE!" he protested, with an almost comical intensity.

"Yeah, sure. And how’s it going there, huh? Anything interesting besides your ‘theories’?" Momo said, looking around with feigned indifference as she tried to change the subject.

"I’VE ARRIVED... TOO SHY... SHY... TO THIS MYSTERIOUS PLACE..." the guy shouted on the phone, his voice echoing in the dark, damp tunnel. "WELL... NOW IT'S TIME TO PROVE IT!"

Momo frowned, not as convinced by his enthusiasm. "Please, do you really think this place is special? It’s all dark and super creepy!"

"YOU’RE SCARED! YOU KEEP TALKING ABOUT THE INTERNET, HAVEN’T YOU EVER SEEN A GHOST?!" the guy yelled, his voice strangely echoing in the tunnel.

"Not at all," Momo replied with a nervous laugh, though her gaze darkened a little.

"WHAT WAS THAT RANT ABOUT EARLIER?!" she shouted, pointing at the phone. "TAKE BACK EVERYTHING YOU SAID! How can you believe in spirits if you've never even seen one?"

"What's so strange about that?" Momo shot back, crossing her arms. She lowered her voice a bit before continuing: "I told you... my grandmother is a medium. She raised me because... well, because I don’t have parents."

There was a brief silence. Even the guy on the phone seemed to be lost for words. Y/n looked at Momo, noticing an expression they rarely saw on their friend: nostalgia mixed with sadness.

"I didn’t know..." murmured the guy on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Momo continued, trying to appear indifferent. "My parents died when I was little. So my grandmother took care of me. But of course, my grandmother wasn’t a normal person. She always talked about spirits, spells, energies. Before going to school, she’d make me do a ritual to protect me from ‘bad vibes’ or something like that. And if I didn’t do it, she’d get mad at me."

"And did you do it?" Y/n asked with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Momo sighed. "At first, I had no choice. But... it was horrible. The other kids would laugh at me. Even the guy I liked... one day he saw me doing one of those rituals and, well, he thought I was an idiot. From that moment on, he started avoiding me. It was the worst."

"That sounds tough," Y/n commented, with a more serious tone.

"Yeah, it was," Momo admitted, shrugging. "I got really angry with my grandmother for that. I think I even said things I shouldn’t have. I felt really alone. But... now that I think about it, it wasn’t so much the ritual that bothered me. It was seeing how they laughed at my family, how they didn’t understand what it meant to us."

"It must have been hard," Y/n said.

"It was," Momo repeated, looking down. "I didn’t regain trust in my grandmother until recently. I realized that, even though her ideas were strange, she did it because she wanted to protect me. And... well, it's all I have left of my family. So, even though it’s frustrating sometimes... I guess I understand her."

The guy on the other end of the phone cleared his throat, breaking the mood. "Well... I don’t know much about spirits, but your grandmother sounds... interesting."

Momo laughed a little. "That’s a polite way to put it. But yeah, she is."

"My grandmother..." Momo began, her gaze fixed on the darkness of the hospital, as if she were speaking more to herself than to anyone else. "Her work as a medium... I don’t know if it’s real. I’ve never seen a spirit. Never. I don’t even know if my grandmother can really perceive them. But you know something? I don’t care. Because, at the end of the day, she raised me alone. She accepted me as her family, even when I didn’t understand anything she did or said. And, in some way, I believe in her."

There was a silence in the group. Even the guy on the phone seemed to have fallen silent for a moment, as if Momo’s words had struck him.

"That’s why I believe in spirits," she continued. "Not because I’ve seen them, but because I believe in my grandmother. And that’s enough for me."

Y/n looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. It was rare to hear Momo speak so sentimentally, but somehow, the sincerity of her words hit like a punch to the chest.

"And you?" Momo asked, turning back to the phone. "Why do you believe in aliens, huh?"

"That... that’s different," the guy replied, somewhat uncomfortable. "You don’t have to see something to know it exists. There’s evidence, theories, data..."

Momo let out a short, bitter laugh. "Oh, sure. Evidence and theories. But tell me something, genius: have you ever seen an alien with your own eyes?"

"Well... no," he admitted, somewhat hesitantly.

"Then what makes you different from me? Why do you assume that yours is more real than mine?"

"Because it’s science," he quickly responded, defensively.

"Science?" Momo raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You call science looking at forums on the internet and reading conspiracy theories from people who’ve probably never left their basement?"

"It’s not the same!" he exclaimed, clearly frustrated.

Y/n decided to intervene before the conversation turned into an argument. "Okay, okay, both of you, calm down. Look, I think Momo has a point. But you do too, mysterious guy. At the end of the day, if you like something, you don’t need reasons to believe in it, right?"

They both fell silent, though their expressions showed they still had a lot to say.

"By the way," Momo added, slightly changing the subject, "you talk about aliens like you know everything about them, but... you have the voice of someone who doesn’t leave the house much, am I wrong?"

"What are you implying?" he asked, clearly offended.

"That you probably haven’t talked to another person in months, other than us on the phone," she replied with a teasing smile.

"That’s not true!"

"Uh-huh, sure."

Y/n chuckled softly while observing their dynamic. Even though they argued constantly, there was something strangely entertaining about their interactions.

"Anyway," Momo said, returning to the previous topic, "I don’t know if aliens exist, but one thing I’m sure of: we don’t need evidence to believe in what matters to us. That includes my grandmother... and I guess your aliens too."

"I guess you’re right," the guy admitted, in a somewhat resigned tone.

"Of course I am," she responded confidently.

"Well," Y/n interrupted, looking around, "before we continue to philosophize, can we just focus on not dying here? Because this place still gives me the creeps."

"I'll second that motion," Momo added, adjusting her hair. "Come on, Y/n. And you, kiddo, keep looking for your evidence. We'll do our thing."

"Don't forget to record something if you see a spirit!" he replied.

"Sure, and if we see an alien, we'll introduce you to it in person," Momo replied sarcastically as she walked with Y/n into the darkness of the hospital.

The boy moved slowly through the tunnel, his flashlight wobbling with each step. The place was dark, damp, and had a strange smell, as if time had stopped there. The echoes of his footsteps made him think he wasn't alone, although he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Suddenly, something stopped him.  A few feet in front of him, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

It was an old woman, hunched over, dressed in worn clothes and a hat that looked like it was from another era. Her face was covered in deep wrinkles, but what stood out the most was her twisted, almost grotesque smile.

“What the…?” he muttered, trying to back away.

The old woman looked up, and her eyes shone with an unnatural intensity.

The old woman took a step forward. “I’ll let you suck my… tits,” she said with a twisted grimace, “if you let me suck your dick.”

“WHAT?!” the boy shouted, jumping back. His flashlight shook in his hand, and, in his panic, his phone almost slipped from his grasp.

“Momo! Y/n! It’s a ghost!” he shouted into the phone, although he didn’t know if they were still on the line.

From the other side of the tunnel, Momo looked up, irritated.  “What is this idiot saying now?”

The boy ran as fast as he could, not daring to look back. Each step echoed like a drum in the tunnel, and his panting was deafening.

“This can’t be happening!” he shouted, stumbling slightly but staying on his feet. “It’s just an old exit! YES, THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO BE!”

He reached his bike, parked at the entrance to the tunnel, and began to wobble as he tried to mount it. His hands shook so badly that he could barely grip the handlebars. “Come on, come on, come on!” he muttered frantically as he tried to pedal.

At that moment, the cell phone in his pocket rang again. It was Momo. With clumsy hands, he pulled out the phone and answered, still panting.

“AYASE! THAT THING IS FOLLOWING ME!”

“Don’t stop, you idiot!” Momo shouted from the other end of the line. “If it catches up with you, you’re done for!”  “It’s the curse of the Old Turbo! If you lose the race against her, she curses you!”

“WHAT!? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME BEFORE!?”

“Because I didn’t think anyone would be idiotic enough to provoke her!”

The boy looked back as he pedaled, and his blood ran cold. The old woman wasn’t running… she was floating towards him, with terrifying speed.

“NOOOO!” he shouted, pedaling even harder.

“Don’t look back!” Momo exclaimed, almost hysterical. “Just keep pedaling!”

Suddenly, the tunnel was filled with a strange echo.

Momo, who was still shouting into the phone, noticed something strange. “Hey, wait a minute! Y/n?”

The silence on the other side made her stop. She turned her head and realized that Y/n was no longer there.

“Y/n!? Where are you?!”  he screamed, looking around in panic.

The boy’s cell phone began to crackle with static, and the call was abruptly cut off. He was now alone, the echo of the Turbo Old Lady’s laughter filling the tunnel as he pedaled madly towards the exit.

Momo, still holding his own cell phone, felt a chill run down his spine. “This isn’t right… Y/n? Answer!”

Momo made his way down the hallway, the light from his flashlight shaking with each step he took. The air seemed colder with each meter, and darkness enveloped everything around him. “Y/n? Are you there? Please answer…” he muttered, gripping his cell phone tightly.

Suddenly, a strange sound echoed in the distance. Footsteps.

Momo stopped dead in his tracks, his breathing quickening. “Boy? Is that you? Answer!”

But what emerged from the shadows wasn’t Y/n.  They were three tall figures, oddly proportioned. They wore human clothing: buttoned-up shirts with collars, tucked neatly into their pants. The pockets of their shirts were filled with small items, such as pens and a notebook sticking out of one of them. They wore perfectly fitted belts and shiny shoes, as if they had just left an office meeting.

Their heads, however, were anything but human.

They looked like grotesque humanoid masks: expressionless faces with motionless eyes and thin mouths that curved unnaturally. Their movements were stiff, but their eyes followed her with chilling precision.

Momo took a step back, her body trembling. “Who… what are you guys?” she stammered, trying to maintain her composure.

One of them took a step forward, his head tilting slightly, as if he were studying her. Momo didn’t wait any longer.  She turned on her heel and began running down the tunnel, quickly dialing Y/n’s number on her cell phone.

“Y/n! Please answer! There are some weird guys here and—!”

She couldn’t finish. One of the men appeared out of nowhere, blocking her way. Momo screamed and backed away, but she collided with something hard. She quickly turned around and found another one of them, who had appeared behind her without making the slightest noise.

“Leave me alone!” she screamed, throwing the flashlight at one of them in a desperate attempt to escape. The flashlight bounced harmlessly off his chest, and he showed no reaction.

Before she could do anything else, she felt an icy pressure on her arm. One of the men had grabbed her, his grip firm but inexplicably cold. “No, no, no! Let me go!”

The cell phone fell from her hands and hit the ground, illuminating for a moment the expressionless face of one of the men.  “Y/n! Help!” was the last thing she managed to scream before she was dragged into the darkness of the tunnel.

The phone was left there, illuminating an empty, cold hallway. In the distance, the echo of the men’s footsteps carrying her away could be heard, but soon, even that sound disappeared.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Momo opened her eyes in shock and confusion. The room was cold, with metallic walls illuminated by bluish lights, and in front of her were three disturbing-looking figures. With elongated heads, greyish skin and large, dark eyes, they looked like something straight out of a science fiction movie. One of them stepped forward and spoke in a monotonous, metallic voice:

"Greetings, human. We are Serpoians. We are called that because we come from the planet Serpo."

"Aliens?" Momo frowned in disbelief. Her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. However, the evidence was undeniable: she was facing something that surpassed any logical explanation.

"Do not be afraid," another of the Serpoians continued with inhuman calm. "We are a peaceful species."

Momo, far from calming down, gritted her teeth. Her eyes frantically scanned the room as she tugged at the restraints holding her wrists.  “Peaceful? Nice guys don’t kidnap girls! Where are my clothes?”

One of the aliens pointed to a nearby table where his clothes lay, in tatters. “Your belongings were handled with care. The damage was… accidental.”

“Accidental?! This isn’t cheap! You’re going to pay for this! And I demand that you return me to my home right now!” he shouted, his voice filling the room.

Despite his protests, the Serpoians seemed immune to his fury. “Our species is entirely male,” one explained in a mechanical tone, as if he were reciting a lesson. “For millennia, we have reproduced through cloning, but this has led to the loss of our emotions and genetic diversity. We seek to regain our biological capabilities… using your genetic code.”

“My what?” Momo looked at them with a mix of confusion and disgust. “You’re completely insane! I will not be a part of your Frankenstein experiments!”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of a sliding door interrupted the tension. A tall, sleek figure strode into the room. His futuristic suit gleamed in the light, form-fitting and full of metallic detailing. His face was hidden behind a sleek helmet that reflected his surroundings like a liquid mirror. His presence was imposing.

“Where is my payment?” he demanded in a firm, authoritative voice.

The Serpoians turned to her. One of them held up a black suitcase. “Here you go. However, it is less than agreed. You delivered late.”

The woman crossed her arms, her posture conveying palpable disdain. “My mentor accepts no excuses. Neither do I. This deal was for a larger sum.”

“The delay justifies the reduction,” one of the aliens replied coldly.

The woman clicked her tongue, visibly upset. Meanwhile, Momo, though still terrified, could not take her eyes off the newcomer.  There was something in her voice, in the way she moved… Something that felt strangely familiar.

Her eyes widened as she connected the pieces. “Y/n?” she muttered, almost breathless.

The woman stopped. Slowly, she turned her head towards Momo. Although the helmet still obscured her face, the slight shift in her posture made her discomfort clear.

The room fell into a tense silence following Y/n’s words. Momo stared at her in disbelief, her lips trembling as tears threatened to fall.

“What are you doing here, Y/n? What is this? Why are you with them?” she asked with a mix of rage and desperation.

Y/n let out an audible sigh, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s not personal, Momo. It’s just work. You… were the target. I was paid to bring them what they needed. Nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” Momo raised her voice, her tears finally overflowing. “Is that what I am to you? A job? We were supposed to be friends! I was supposed to be able to trust you!”

Y/n’s helmet reflected the cold lights of the room, hiding any emotion that might have been on her face. But the stiffness of her shoulders gave her away. She tried to stand her ground, looking at Momo from a distance. “This isn’t about you or us, Momo. It’s about… surviving. You don’t understand how my world works. No one survives without making sacrifices.”

“Sacrifices?! Is that what I am to you? One more sacrifice to keep you going?” Momo screamed, struggling against the restraints that kept her immobilized. “You were my friend, Y/n! I trusted you like no one else! I always thought you would understand me!”  But here you are, giving me away like I'm... like I'm a thing!”

Momo's words hit like a hammer. For a moment, Y/n stood still, unable to respond. Something in Momo's voice, in the broken sincerity of her words, touched her heart.

“Do you remember what you told me when you picked me up that night?” Momo continued between sobs. “You said that no matter what, you'd be there for me. That friends never betray each other. And look at you now... giving me away like I'm worthless.”

The tension in the room was almost palpable. Even the Serpoians fell silent, watching the confrontation.

Y/n lowered her head slightly, her voice sounding lower, almost unsure. “It's not that simple, Momo... I—”

“Don't give me excuses!” Momo interrupted her, her voice cracking. “Look at me! Tell me that all of this is worth it!  “Tell me you’re okay with what you’re doing!”

Y/n stood still for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. Then, she took a step back, clenching her fists at her sides. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, barely audible. Without another word, she turned to the Serpoians. “The deal is done. I’m leaving.”

“Y/n!” Momo screamed, her voice filled with desperation. “Please! Don’t leave me here! Please don’t do this to me!”

But Y/n didn’t stop. She headed for the door without looking back, her bright figure disappearing into the dimness of the hallway. Just before the door closed, Momo, her voice cracking, let out one last scream that echoed in the silence:

“I would never have done this to you, Y/n! Never!”

The echo of her words hung in the air, and for an instant, Y/n stood on the other side of the door.  Her shoulders shook slightly, but she didn’t turn around. With a quick movement, she disappeared, leaving Momo alone, her sobs filling the room as the Serpoians turned their attention back to her.

“Why…?” Momo whispered through her tears. “Why did you do this to me?”

The Serpoians had run out of patience. One of them approached with cold, calculated movements, a strange humming sound emanating from his device.

“Let us prepare to extract the necessary organs. Your resistance is irrelevant,” one declared in a metallic voice.

Momo struggled uselessly against the restraints, her face drenched in tears. “Get away from me! You cannot do this!”

The alien lifted the probe, slowly bringing it closer to Momo. “We will begin the procedure now.”

Suddenly, the sound of a ringtone broke through the air, Momo’s mobile phone began to vibrate on the nearby table. The Serpoians paused, staring at it curiously.

“External interruptions are not acceptable,” one of them said, reaching out a hand to take the device.

Before she could touch it, the phone’s screen lit up in a deep red.  A deep vibration filled the room, and suddenly, a figure emerged from the screen: Y/n, holding a strangely designed pistol.

“Did I interrupt something again?” she asked in an icy tone, pointing directly at the Serpoians.

Beside her, staggering, appeared the boy possessed by Turbo Granny. His body was bent at impossible angles, and his eyes shone with a mix of fear and rage.

“Ayase!” Ken shouted, struggling to stay on his feet as Turbo Granny seemed to control his movements.

The aliens took a step back, observing the scene with a mix of shock and wariness.

“How did you get in here again, Agent Jean Jacket?” one of the Serpoians demanded, raising his hands in a defensive stance.

Y/n let out a dry laugh, though her gaze remained fixed on them. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

Momo, still trapped in the chair, stared at Y/n in disbelief and rage. “Now you decide to show up?! After everything you did?!”

“This doesn’t change anything, Momo,” Y/n said without looking at her, her voice strained. “This is still not personal.”

“Please don’t give me that again!” Momo screamed, tears sliding down her cheeks.

For an instant, Y/n hesitated, but didn’t respond. Instead, she pulled the trigger on her gun, firing a beam that struck one of the Serpoians, knocking it to the ground.

Turbo Granny, controlling Ken, let out a terrifying shriek and launched herself at another alien, biting it ferociously on the torso.

“Momo, take cover!” Y/n screamed as the remaining aliens began to respond to the attack, their suits glowing as they prepared to fight back.

“I can’t! I’m tied up!” Momo screamed in desperation, pulling at the straps with all her might.

Ken screamed in desperation, his body still fighting against Turbo Granny’s possession. Tears fell from his eyes as the words filled the room, his voice cracked from years of repressed pain.

“No matter how many times I called you, you never came!” He exclaimed, fists clenched, body tense under Granny’s control.  “There I was bullied by children, ignored by aliens… children paid me to beat them up!”

Ken’s words were desperate, but the fury and pain seemed to give him the strength to keep fighting. “My life sucked! And no one cared if I was alive or dead… but (Y/n) and Miss Ayase were the only ones who stood up for me! So get your filthy hands off her!”

At that moment, a spark of control seemed to surge within him. His body trembled, but his mind struggled to take back the reins, preparing to attack. Anger fueled him, his will finally regaining some strength.

Momo, from her position, screamed in desperation, unable to do anything but watch as the fight raged. “Hidden-kun! Do it! We need you!”

But amidst the chaos, the aliens began to move, aware of the growing threat Ken posed. One of them, still reeling from Turbo Granny’s impact, gave an order. “Get those humans! They won’t let this end well!”

The tension rose, but the worst seemed yet to come. A Serpoian, with cold, calculated movements, approached Momo, holding her by the shoulders tightly. “If you don’t give us what we ask for, you’ll regret it,” he said in a monotone voice, while his companion watched Ken, who was still trying to break free from Granny’s influence.

“Gross!” one of the other aliens commented, watching the scene become more and more chaotic.

Momo looked at Ken, fighting against his own body, knowing that control was fragile. “Ken! Don’t give up! You can do it!” he shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

“Enough of all this!”  The voice, firm and full of power, boomed through the room.

It was Y/n. Her presence was imposing, the helmet reflecting the light from the screens, but behind it, her expression was determined.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore, Momo!” she said, as she raised her gun towards the Serpoians.

One of them tried to react, but a direct shot to his torso stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Hmm?”

Momo briefly looked away at Ken, but soon returned her focus to Turbo Granny, whose teeth were still piercing her calf.

“I’ll eat your cock!”

“What?” Y/n stepped back, horrified, but still trying to understand the situation.

“I… it’s not me! It’s Turbo Granny!”

“Are you really the only ones who can save me?” Momo thought, as her eyes focused on Ken. The situation was becoming more and more chaotic.

The alien and Momo watched the conflict in silence. Finally, the alien turned his gaze to Momo, noticing the chaos between the humans. “Now I will begin with the excitement.”

He extended his hand over Momo, who closed her eyes, feeling a growing pressure. Her face twisted in disgust as, for a moment, she thought she could no longer get out of this situation. It was then that, in her mind, an image from her childhood began to emerge: an important memory of her grandmother.

“Release your chi.”

“I don’t want to...”

Momo, as a little girl, found herself at the entrance of her grandmother’s house, long before she met you or Ken.

“The other kids always make fun of me for that. I look stupid.” Momo explained to the older woman, as her grandmother knelt in front of her with a calm smile.

“No, it’s not like that… When you release your chi, you will never get hurt or sick.  It will also help you keep evil away.” Grandma placed her hands gently on Momo’s shoulders, before taking her small hands firmly.

“Now, tense your abdominal muscles and imagine your chi rising from the top of your head.”

Momo, with effort, tried to follow the directions. Immediately, a painful memory flashed through her: the children laughing at her when she tried to do that pose.

“I hate it! I won’t do it again!” Momo screamed, shaking her head as her eyes widened in fury.

Her grandmother, still patient, held out her hand, asking for calm. “Momo! Wait!”

“I hate you, Grandma! You’re an imposter!”

That moment of anger made the memory flash through her mind in a distorted way. However, deep down, Momo knew she didn’t hate her grandmother. She only felt ashamed, something she was now beginning to understand.

Then, he began to imagine his grandmother’s words, remembering the technique she had taught him. As he visualized the flow of her chi, something inside him triggered, and, in that instant, the chair containing her broke under her energy.

The fight between Ken and Momo stopped at the same time, both of them staring in amazement as Momo began to levitate.

“What?! She never said she had psychic powers!” Ken exclaimed, his eyes wide as Momo floated.

With a slight bend in her legs, Momo raised her hands, looking at the two men around her in surprise. “I… I didn’t know I had them either.”

The alien who had tried to attack extended his hands towards Momo, but she, now fully focused, stared at him. “My psychokinesis is being repelled by a higher force. What’s going on? Maybe the human’s brain waves were overloaded, allowing her to access her chakra.”

Momo, fascinated by the piece of metal floating above her hand, turned her gaze towards the alien with a determined smile. “She’s not an impostor! My grandmother is a genuine medium! Thank you, Grandma!”

Meanwhile, the boy tried to bite Y/n and in the process, ripped off her helmet, revealing Y/n’s pastel blue skin and the dark blue glowing antennae emerging from her head.

She tried to defend herself, trying not to shoot him with her gun, but he scratched her skin, making fissures that healed automatically.

Momo stood up and, with her newly acquired powers, launched a powerful kick at the alien. However, he raised his arm and stopped her with force. “Now I have the power to face these monsters! And make them fly!” Momo shouted, full of determination.

With a last effort, she kicked the alien, sending him through the walls. The explosion that followed was deafening, and the lights in the room began to flicker violently.

Momo screamed as she felt her body collapse, as she watched the destruction falling around her. “We are inside a real UFO!” she exclaimed, surprised, looking around for Y/n and Ken, and finding them on the ground fighting, she was horrified. “(Y/n)! Occult-kun!”

Swiftly, Momo approached Granny Turbo. Suddenly, her body began to glow with a clear light, while her hair flowed wildly. At that moment, the curse that weighed on Ken disappeared.

Suddenly, the room darkened, turning red. Before them, Granny Turbo appeared, her gaze fixed and malicious. “Who the hell are you two?” she said, her voice cold and challenging.

Turbo Granny curled her fingers, causing Ken to pull away from Y/n, his body arching as a painful gurgle came from his lips. Momo watched, eyes wide, recoiling slightly as she saw how Ken was still under Granny’s control. “Granny is out of her body!” she exclaimed, alarmed. “But he is still under her curse!”

“This child belongs to me,” Turbo Granny said with a mocking smile. “As long as I have him, the curse will not be lifted.  I can't stay here for long, but if you want me to free him, go to the tunnel. If you want to fight me, come to me. Damn classless bitches!”

“Who are you calling a bitch, you filthy old woman?! Give him his penis back!” Momo shouted at the ghost that was walking away.

Y/n, seeing Momo so worried and determined, quickly approached her and, with unexpected strength, lifted her into her arms. Momo blushed at feeling so close to her, her cheeks turning red as she couldn't help but look down, avoiding Y/n's eyes, which were shining with determination.

“Don't worry! We're going to get out of here,” Y/n said firmly, beginning to quickly climb the walls of the UFO with the agility of an expert. Momo clung to her, the warmth of her body comforting her, but her mind was filled with chaos. In her chest, a strange feeling was born, something she had never felt before.

Ken, still disoriented from the curse and the explosion, was on the ground, slowly recovering. Y/n, still moving, lifted him up with one hand, placing him on her back as she continued to ascend.

“Come on, Ken! You have to get up, we have to go now!” Y/n shouted, and Ken, his eyes still somewhat clouded, nodded weakly.

The room was crumbling around them, and a dark energy filled the air. The walls were beginning to shake violently, and the lights flickered desperately. Momo, her face still flushed from the closeness to Y/n, looked down as they ascended, unable to stop her heart from beating faster than normal. What was this strange feeling that was invading her?

Suddenly, a loud boom shook the UFO, and a gigantic explosion went off behind them. The walls began to give way, and the ship seemed to be on the verge of total destruction. Y/n, not losing her cool, leapt forward, bringing Momo and Ken with her in her leap, escaping just before the UFO exploded into a ball of fire.

With a deafening bang, the UFO disintegrated behind them, and in the air, Y/n, Momo, and Ken flew through space, jumping out of the ship's reach, completely safe but on the verge of despair.

Momo hugged Y/n tightly, no longer caring about the blush, as the wind whipped at them, and Ken's body rested on Y/n's back.  The scene was chaotic, but it had all happened so fast, and the only thought running through Momo's mind was how she felt so strangely calm in Y/n's arms, as the ship crumbled behind them.

"Are we safe?" Ken asked, his voice weak, as he watched the distance between them and the exploding ship.

"Yes," Y/n answered, without hesitation. "We're safe... for now."

But as they floated in the air, Momo couldn't help but wonder how they could have survived all of that. And even more so, how her feelings towards Y/n seemed to have changed in a matter of seconds, and what it all meant to her.

⊹ ・・───・・・・ ───  ⊹

Near Kamigoe Prefecture, a curious pastel-green being walked casually through the crowded streets of the city. It had the appearance of a puppy dog, though its size, its long antennae that glowed faintly in the daylight, and its tail that swung like a whip of jelly made it clear that it was no ordinary dog. In one hand it held a burrito wrapped in silver paper, and in the other, a large soda that made gurgling sounds with each step.

The little alien eagerly bit into the burrito, spilling some of the sauce on the ground. It paused for a moment, sucking its fingers before continuing to walk. Its attitude was that of someone who belonged there, though it didn’t bother to hide the strangeness of its appearance. People watched it in awe, but the alien seemed immune to the curious glances.

“Mom, look! A puppy!” exclaimed a little girl with braids, pointing at it with joy.

The being stopped dead in its tracks, its ears (or what seemed to be ears) perking up at the sound. It slowly turned its head towards the little girl, its eyes shining like a pair of tiny green suns. “Who are you calling a puppy, kid!?” it shrieked in a high-pitched voice with an accent that seemed to be from another planet… literally.

The little girl’s mother froze, tugging on her daughter’s hand as she tried to process what had just happened.

“Speak, Mom! The puppy is speaking!” the excited little girl shouted, tugging on her mother’s arm.

The alien, offended, snorted and raised his donkey towards the little girl, as if it were some sort of weapon. “Hey, on my planet, insulting someone by calling them a puppy is a declaration of war, you know? But I’m too busy today to respond to your taunts.”

The mother, now completely terrified, dragged her daughter away from the little being, muttering something about “moving to the country.”  The alien pup shook his head as he took a long sip of his soda, producing a clattering sound that drew even more stares.

“Humans…” he muttered tiredly, his antennae twitching in slight annoyance. “You can’t just walk around town without someone mistaking you for a pet.”

He continued on his way, dodging the crowd with surprising agility for someone with a burrito and a soda in his hands. Every so often, he would stop in front of a store to admire some product, though he quickly grew bored and kept moving.

A man in a suit saw him pass by and frowned. “Is that… a dog in a costume?”

“I’m not a dog!” the alien shouted without even turning around. “And stop looking at me like that or I’ll throw my burrito in your face!”

The threat seemed to have an effect, and the man walked away muttering something about “needing more coffee.”

The little creature finally reached the entrance to the town, where the lights were beginning to fade and the shops were turning into open fields. It stopped and looked out at the horizon, its antennae leaning forward as if it were sensing something. It took a last sip of its soda, letting out a loud burp that echoed through the air.

“Fine…” it said, wiping its mouth with the back of its hand. “Now I just need to find that damn ship before someone else calls me a puppy.”

He continued walking towards the end of the city, his half-eaten burrito still in his hand. Behind him lay a line of perplexed humans, and ahead of him a fate awaited him that, as always, would be anything but boring.

The little alien continued to walk with a sure step, enjoying his half-finished burrito, when suddenly, his antennae began to vibrate intensely. A slight buzzing sound went through his head, as if he had tuned into a distant frequency. His expression tensed, and his eyes, which used to shine with indifference, now narrowed with seriousness.

“What the…?” he muttered, looking around as if searching for the source of the phenomenon. His antennae continued to vibrate, and the buzzing sound grew higher. Then, looking up, he saw it.

In the distance, a thick column of black smoke rose from the old university hospital, followed by an explosion that lit up the sky as if it were a misplaced fireworks display.  The alien dropped his soda, which slowly rolled to a stop in a sewer.

“No way!” he screamed, bringing his hands to his antennae as if trying to stop the humming. He looked back at the hospital, frowning in a mix of disbelief and exasperation. “Y/n did it again?!”

The small being began to walk faster, then trotted, muttering under his breath. “I told you not to go soft on the merchandise! But no, you always have to play the heroine, dammit!”

He paused for a moment, as if he had remembered something, and shook his head in frustration. “And you sure left a mess behind, like always! By all the rings of Saturn, you’re really going to listen to me this time!”

With one last glance at the burning hospital, he let out an annoyed growl.  “I hope you at least saved something valuable, because if not…”

The little alien ran off on his short legs, leaving his donkey forgotten on the ground. His pastel green silhouette was lost in the shadows, while the smoke from the hospital covered the horizon, promising chaos and answers in the distance.

A/N ── Oh, hey, it's me again.

First off, let me tell you something: I'm in love with Dandadan. Seriously, I can't even explain how much I was hooked on this series from the moment I found out how it went. It was like a cosmic crush. Each chapter left me more hooked, more obsessed, and obviously I couldn't resist. I ended up buying the ENTIRE manga set that was available so far. I literally couldn't wait to find out what was going to happen with Momo after those last chapters that left me with my heart in my throat. This series is pure magic and chaos, and I can't get over it.

Now, let's talk about my baby, or Y/n. Let me tell you that her spacesuit is directly inspired by Smart Lady from a Japanese series (if you know which one, you're one of mine). I wanted something that screams alien but with style, and I feel like I nailed it... sort of. But, here comes the kicker: her personality is still not well defined. She's a mess, I admit. But that's the whole idea. Because she's an undercover alien, her personality changes depending on the environment she's in. It's like she's constantly adapting to fit in, but at the same time, that lack of consistency is part of her identity. Existential drama at its finest!

And here comes the tricky but interesting part: the character doesn't have a defined gender. Visually, she could pass for a woman, and she identifies as a woman because that's how she feels, but here's the plot twist: she has no defined genitals. Yes, you read that right. She's neither biologically male nor female. She's something beyond that, something that she may not even fully understand. For now, she treats herself as a woman because that's what feels most comfortable and natural to her earthly experience, but... does it really matter? I want to explore how that ambiguity affects her, how it influences the way she sees herself and her interactions with others. It's a key part of her story that I hope to develop little by little.

Oh, and regarding the technical chaos... I know this first part had its problems. It was published by itself, the dialogues were poorly arranged, it was very long, blah, blah, blah. But now, it's all well and good. I think.

[valkyriexo]

Microphones and Mistakes

ᑉ³pairing; Dad! Husband! Bangchan x idol! Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst

ᑉ³warnings; Implied unwanted pregnancy, Arguments, Cursing

ᑉ³Authors Note; This is my first Tumblr Fic! Thank you so much for reading <3 Edited! Please let me know if there are any warnings I am missing!

ઇଓ Part 2

"We will be ready to start again in 5," a staff member near the sound booth said. You sighed as you plopped yourself down on the side of the stage. Another staff member ran over to you with water and a new microphone.

"I'm sorry about all the issues, Y/N. We're working to fix them now, and I assure you it won't happen again," he said, handing you the water.

"Thank you," was the only answer you could provide. Anxiously, you sat on the side of the stage, getting your in-ear monitors fixed, already feeling frustrated and out of breath.

This was your debut performance of the highly anticipated Stray Kids X Y/N song. Countless late nights had been dedicated to crafting this masterpiece, with you and your husband Chan pouring your hearts and souls into every lyric and melody. The song had soared to the top of the charts in a matter of days due to its popularity, which brought immense pressure. Any misstep during this crucial performance could spell disaster for both of your upcoming comebacks, tarnishing the success you had worked so tirelessly to achieve. You had run through the performance once, but unexpected sound issues had arisen, causing you to be behind schedule.

Chan, usually by your side and supportive, was busy with his own schedule, making sure he and the kids were prepared for the performance as well.

You scanned the room, watching staff buzzing around and fixing what you could only imagine were other issues. Each staff member moved with purpose, adjusting lights, checking sound equipment, and ensuring every detail was in place for the upcoming performance.

Amidst the chaos, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves. You let the sounds wash over you, the cacophony blending into a soothing rhythm. With each deep breath, you felt the tension slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of quiet determination.

Then, you heard it.

The wailing of your almost 4-year-old son, Kai. He had decided that this particular moment was the perfect time to be anything but calm. He cried and wailed incessantly, much to the dismay of the nanny who had been entrusted with his care. Your eyes shot open to see Kai running towards you, with the nanny following just a few steps behind.

"Mommy!" Kai wailed as he ran into your arms.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. He slipped out of my hands and has been crying all afternoon, and I turned for one second to grab him a toy, and he ran off," the nanny explained.

"It's okay," you replied, turning your attention to the crying boy in front of you. "I w-wanna be with M-Mommy!" Kai cried out.

"Kai, sweetheart, you know you can't be in here." You replied running your hands through his hair.

"But Mommy—"

"No buts. Baby, I'm sorry, but both Mommy and Daddy have to work. You have to stay with your Nanny," you said gently, hoping to lure him back to his nanny. But Kai's disappointment was evident as he cried even more.

"We're ready to start again, Y/N," a staff member said ignoring the scene taking place in front of him.

"But I don't like Nanny!" Kai protested, his voice rising in pitch as frustration bubbled within him.

Your patience wavered, the pressure of the impending performance weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Kai, I understand, but you have to be a big boy for me, alright? Mommy and Daddy need to work. We'll spend lots of time together later, I promise."

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout, his tear-streaked face a portrait of stubborn defiance. "I don't want later, I want now!"

Feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, and with Chan nowhere in sight, the only solution in your head was this. You scooped Kai up, adjusting his soundproofing headphones as you got in place to begin the song.

But Kai seemed determined to make his displeasure known. As the music played, and you began to sing, you felt his tiny hands grasp onto your microphone, tugging at it with all his might. In the midst of the commotion, he also managed to yank out one of your in-ear monitors, leaving you disoriented and struggling to hear the music properly.

What you didn't realize is that Kai also had his sippy cup in his hand. With all the commotion, it popped open and spilled—

All over you.

As the music shifted, symbolizing the entrance of Stray Kids, you shot Kai a look, hoping to get him to behave. Your eyes met Chan's, and he shot you and Kai a look of confusion. He noticed you were struggling, and he quickly sprang into action. Despite needing to sing and dance during the sound check, he took Kai into his arms, attempting to calm him down while still fulfilling his duties on stage.

Meanwhile, with your microphone dangling precariously from one hand and your in-ear monitors in the other, you tried your best to soldier on. But the frustration was evident on your face as you struggled to maintain your composure amidst the chaos. The song ended, and you heard your manager through the one remaining in-ear monitor.

"Y/N, what's going on? This is your second run with all the issues fixed, and this one was worse than the first. We don't have time to do this again."

Out of frustration, you pulled the in-ear monitor out of your ear. Without a word, you stormed off the stage, taking Kai out of Chan's arms, leaving him and the rest of the kids behind.

You brought Kai into a nearby room and crouched down in front of him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface.

The sight in front of you was painful. Your little boy stood there, looking so innocent with the cup and a piece of your in-ear monitor in hand.

You couldn’t believe it.

You fought to maintain your composure, but couldn’t. The soft sound of approaching footsteps only served to heighten your frustration, pushing you dangerously close to your breaking point. With each passing moment, the pressure mounted, a simmering rage threatening to boil over.

"What the hell, Kai?" You let out. "What is wrong with you today? You misbehave all morning, are mean and fussy with your nanny, and then look," you said, pointing at yourself, "you pulled off my microphone and in-ears and spilled your juice all over me." The little boy stared back at you with big brown eyes and a pout on his face.

"I've raised you better than this, Kai. What is wrong with you?!" You raised your voice a little, causing Kai to jump. He took little steps quickly to hide behind his father, who was now standing in the room. His little hands were shaking, and his lips were quivering.

Chan's eyes softened as he felt little hands grip his pants.

"Baby...What's going on?" he said to you, picking up his son with one hand, wiping the tears that began to stream down his face once again. "Don’t stress out, baby. It's okay,"

"No, Chan. It's not okay. He's constantly disobeying, and every time he does, you just wipe his tears and let it slide. That's why he keeps repeating these behaviors. You've coddled him so much that we can't even put him down for a few minutes!" You groaned frustrated as you stood.

"Y/n, it's fine. He's just a baby—" You shot a pointed look at him instantly, causing him to fall silent and redirect his attention to his son, who was clinging to his shirt.

"I'm s-sorry," Kai choked on his sobs.

Chan's heart melted at his little pout. "It's okay, baby, no need to cry. Daddy's got you," Chan wiped the tears from his cheeks and gently took the cup from his tiny little hands. "Y/N, look what you've done, now he's panicking."

"Seriously Chan?" you replied, clearly annoyed.

"He's just a kid! Kids cry, they make mistakes. He's still learning, Y/N. We need to guide him, not scold him," his voice grew louder with frustration.

"So how exactly do you plan to teach him? By comforting him, telling him it's alright, and then forgetting about it, knowing he'll repeat the same behavior in the future?"

"HE'S A CHILD, Y/N! He learns through trial and error. He doesn't fully comprehend right from wrong yet. Why do you always resort to yelling? And why am I always the one expected to properly care for him?"

"Properly care for him? I'm the only one who does since you're hardly ever home! I do everything for him. I—"

"Stop being a poor parent and actually teach him. For someone who didn't want a kid, you're oddly protective of him."

You stared blankly at him.

You, the one who was up day and night when Kai was sick, While Chan was working in the studio

You, the only one who took him to all of his appointments, dance classes, games, and events, while Chan was away on tour.

You, the only one who sat with him when he was struggling with homework, when Chan was too tired to stay awake.

You, the one who took care of Kai and never took a break, while Chan never did.

You.

The tension in the air was thick. The shocked gasp that left your mouth was painful. Your head started to spin, your eyes turning red as your body started to overheat. The emotions you felt were overwhelming. Your eyes landed on your son, who was covering his face in his father's chest, as Chan's eyes grew wider and wider, realizing the weight his words had on you.

"I'm- I'm sorry," the little boy squealed again.

"It's okay, baby," Chan comforted his shivering body.

"Well, maybe since I'm such a poor parent and a terrible teacher, I should let you handle it all on your own then," you said, brushing past him and your son and closing the door behind you on your way out.

You were stunned, your mind struggling to process everything. Your hands felt icy, and the weight of it all became too much to bear. You were exhausted from constantly putting up a front, tired of shouldering everyone else's burdens.

You longed for the freedom you once had, to reclaim your own life.

The urge to flee, to escape from it all, gnawed at your thoughts.

Yes, you cherished Chan and the life you shared, but you yearned to rediscover yourself. You craved to feel cherished, to be loved by your husband like you once were. You wished to relive the carefree days of youth, to experience love anew.

You made your way to the dressing room, seeking solace. Despite the turmoil within, you had a show to perform tonight. Sitting down, you took a deep breath, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. Tears welled up in your eyes, staining your cheeks.

No.

You refused to let the chaos of the moment ruin the performance ahead. With determination, you steadied yourself, forcing a smile.

The show must go on.

ઇଓ Part 2

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[mizuki-herazaki]

TWST characters reactions to surprise hugs

another headcanon just cute scenarios (very little but kinda suggestive in Jades) not grammer checked I kind of just wrote whatever lol. have fun!! GN reader

Riddle Rosehearts

Yuu run up and hug riddle from behind as he leaves the classroom

He freezes up and almost turns as red as his hair.

You feel his whole body stiffen and he tries to speak fluently but stutters.

“W-what are you doing?”

You let go and walk in front of him “What is it against the rules?~” Yuu ask with a smile

Riddle relaxes and fixes his voice “No. But it would be nice to have a warning beforehand.” he replies sternly before walking off with a slight blush.

     Cater Diamond

Cater was trying to take a selfie but…PHOTOBOMB!!!

Just as he clicked the button to capture the photo, Yuu jumped out and hugged him from the side smiling.

When Cater notices that it is you he smiles and laughs

You two look at the photo and Cater has a surprised face as a smiley Yuu is clinging onto him.

“I am totes posting this! We’re total #couple goals!”

     Deuce Spade

Completely startled and most likely thought he was getting jumped.

After he notices it was just you he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Don’t do that Yuu, I almost got a heart attack”

Be Careful he’s a swinger.

    Leona Kingscholar

Already knew it was you

Smelt your scent from a mile away

When you are about to let go he growls

“Oi who said you could let go”

With that you keep your arms wrapped around him

It turns into a surprise cuddle session

   Jack Howl

Was working out doing runs

Yuu jumps in front of Jack out of nowhere arms open wide

It’s too late for Jack to stop; it's a direct collision as you both fall to the ground with a thud.

Yuu clings on tightly preventing Jack from getting up

“Come on Yuu, you ruined my time!” Jack says slightly annoyed

“Yea~ but now your time is mine” Yuu says happily until the gym instructor comes.

“ If you two have time for fooling around surely a 5 mile run should be no issue.”

Jack handled it well, but ended up having to carry Yuu home.

   Ruggie Bucchi

Yuu is mad at Ruggie for a “small” prank he played.

“Come on, I said sorry!” Ruggie says pleadingly

Yuu just keeps walking away ignoring him but feels slightly bad for being so upset with him.

What Yuu doesn’t notice is that Ruggie is using his special skill on them.

Next thing they notice that they are in a hug with Ruggie as he snickers.

“W-Wha- - - RUGGIE! I’m still mad at you!” Yuu yells while blushing

“Oh come on, I said sorry already. Plus you love me, don't deny it.”

You really can’t deny it. Ruggie stops his spell and you two just stand in an embrace.

  Azul Ashengrotto

After Azul finished with his (scams) I mean totally legitimate business.

He was walking back to his office with his newly made contracts.

Then BOOM Yuu jumps from a hallway and hugs him

This startles him and he grabs his contracts very close, fearing he almost dropped them.

When he notices that it is you he blushes a bit

“Please be more careful next time!” he states exasperated

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say my cutie” Yuu say with a smile

The term makes him blush even more

Floyd comes from nowhere “Someones being squeezed~”

Floyd then hugs the 2 of them and picks them up squeezing them.

Jade joins too because why not.

Azul is just in between the 3 now annoyed:Sweet moment over “Can I please put my contracts away!” he yells with annoyance

There is a no from all 3 of them

  Floyd Leech

So You drank a potion (doing stupid stuff with Ace and Deuce)long story short you are now a child.

You still have your memories but have gained a child like fear of everything

Since everybody kinda worries Yuu, they run to the person they trust the most, Floyd!

When Yuu spots Floyd about to harass Riddle, they scurry over and hugs his leg from behind.

Riddle looks down at the familiar looking kid questioningly but Floyd doesn’t seem to notice a child clinging to him.

Riddle: Well I must be off now, so before you decide to bother me, you should see to the kid attached to you.” with that he walks away

“Ehh~ what kid?” Floyd questions. He then looks down to see a child you clinging to him

Brain dial up noises

“Shrimpy~~~!”

He picks Yuu up by the shirt collar to see eye to eye. He has a wide grin.

Yuu nod at his statement

He hugs You tightly and happily to his chest “Shrimpy is tiny Shrimpy now, makes me want to eat you whole.

“Please don’t” You say to him knowing he would follow through with his words.

Safe to say you didn’t leave his arms for the rest of the day (P.S. eventually the potion wore off not that Floyd cared)

  Jade Leech

Unfazed this man

Yuu decides to jump on him hugging him from behind as he works

Aww… you must miss me. Don’t worry I shall assist to your needs later tonight 😉

And he continues working but hey! He stays true to his promise

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is being scolded by Jamil (Not that any of it is registering)

Yuu sneaks up and hugs him

Kalim doesn't get scared but super Happy “Yay Surprise Hugs!!” He exclaims

He turns and Hugs Yuu back happily

The 2 are extremely giddy and just holding each other tighter while giggling.

Jamil is annoyed and cringing at the show of affection

Kalim then invites Yuu to a sleepover to which they gladly accept

Jamil just doesn’t even bother.

Jamil Viper

So he had a hard day of work, scratch that, week

Yuu see him in the hallway looking completely exhausted 

So you decided to give him a small happy surprise

You walk up quietly and gently wrap your arms around him

He flinches a little but then relaxes under your touch

He turns around and rest his forehead on your shoulder as he hugs back

“We should probably get to class soon.” You state quietly

“Let’s just stay like this a little longer please” He responds back tired

You smile as you softly pat his head.

Rook Hunt

Yuu sees Rook in the distance watching someone and thinks it would be a great chance to surprise him.

Yuu goes to tackle Rook but then it looks like he disappeared into thin air as Yuu feels arms wrap around them from behind.

Yuu is stunned 

“Hello Mademoiselle!!” Rook says excitedly “h-how did you?” Yuu questions

“Oh mi Amor you cannot hunt the hunter, Now let us go!” 

They continue to go on a cute and calm date

Vil Schoenheit 

Vil is walking through the garden elegantly, basically sparkling.

Yuu can’t hold back the urge to hug the ever so handsome, beautiful man

Yuu run up and hug him careful not to disorientate his perfect demeanor

He is slightly shocked but gains composure quickly as he turns around.

“Hello my lovely spudling”

Yuu rolls their eyes and vill gently fixes a misplaced hair on Yuu

The blossoms are basically budding and the 2 are sparkling with perfectness.

Epel Felmier

Epel was coming to visit Yuu at Ramshackle, but Yuu wasn’t in the dorm.

Yuu spots Epel standing in the front and gains a brilliant idea

Full sprint Yuu runs towards Epel and hugs him harshly

Epel stumbles but keeps them from falling over and his accent slips out as Yuu laughs

Epel holds his hands to his chest and sighs “Geez don’t do that Yuu, nearly gave me a heart attack”

“Oh Epel classy Epel” Yuu teases as they go to hang out the rest of the day.

Idia Shroud

Idia is in his room being a shut-in but Yuu wants to see him.

Yuu get Ortho and they discuss a plan to get Idia to open the door

Idia hears a knock at the door and instantly assumes it is ortho “Yeah Ortho?”

“Can I come in really quick brother?” ortho questions and Idia responds “sure" and goes to open the door.

As soon as the door opens there is no time for him to react. Yuu has already dived in and hugged him.

Idia’s skin is now as red as a strawberry (hair too) and he is as frozen as a statue.

Ortho giggles “Oh yeah and Yuu wanted to see you”

Yuu release your hug “um hello earth to Idia”

Idia.exe is not responding

Oops you might have broke him

Idia crouches down and takes a few moments to breathe. After a while of him calming down; Yuu, Idia, and Ortho play games for the rest of the day.

Silver (sweepy baby :3)

Yuu spots Silver asleep directly in front of the school gates blocking the way

Yuu stands over his sleeping body menacingly with a smile and stares down your shadow covering Silver's face.

Yuu then plop yourself harshly with a thud right onto silver as you hug him and rub your face into his chest.

Silver wakes up from the impact with an oof and needs a moment to process

Once he processes the event happening he hugs Yuu back softly and you both fall asleep at the school entrance.

Riddle walks up to the entrance to see you two blocking the way

(Insert Jojo’s Bizzare adventures “Roundabout” here)

Malleus (Hornton)

He was admiring the gargoyles in front of Ramshackle. Yuu happily run up and hop onto Malleus’ back hugging him

Malleus was surprised but did not show it.

“Hello Yuu, nice weather wasn’t it”

“Yep!” Yuu say as Yuu keep your legs clung around Malleus and now Malleus has an Yuu riding on their back everywhere.

He doesn’t really show it but he is happy

Lilia Vanrouge

You can’t surprise him

A lot like Rook

Yuu are just generally looking for Lilia to ask him to hangout at an event in Scarabia

Yuu runs into Silver and asks about Lilia’s location.

 “Father? I am actually not aware of his whereabouts but I’ll put in word for you if I see him.”

“Talking about me?” a voice comes from behind you as arms slither around your waist.

“AHH!!!” Yuu jump a bit instinctively

“Hello Father.” Silver says unphased

Lilia laughs at your reaction and contemplates making this a habit before you change the topic to the invitation.

You guys also invite Silver because as Kalim once said “The more, The merrier!!”

You all had a fun time.

[gretavanlace]

Debauchery Defined

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, masturbation, dirty talk, dangerous situations, oral sex (m/rec), illegal activity (traffic related), etc. jake in a hat briefly - cause that shit deserves a warning. Probably typos, excessive italics as per usual, blah blah blah

“I’m sorry, sir, I have nothing under the name of Kiszka.”

The bored attendant, slouched upon a stool beneath an Enterprise sign, doesn’t even have the decency to sound mildly apologetic.

The sign is bright. Too bright for the hour. Too bright for the weary, sleep deprived, burn in your eyes. Just too bright.

Judging by the furrow in his brow, despite his ever present sunglasses, Jake shares your contempt for the fluorescent glow.

“I made a reservation days ago.” You reiterate, spelling his last name once more. Turns out, it’s a lesson in futility, as the clerk doesn’t even bother to type it in.

“I told you,” he snaps, fixing you with a glare. You sense he thinks it reeks of authority. It doesn’t. “There’s no rental reservation. Spell the name all night long if you feel like it, but it isn’t going to change anything.”

Jake, in a smooth rush, is leaned in closer - serpentine and quick in his movement. Yet, calculated, careful, eerily calm in that unsettling way he adopts when irritation is trudging toward anger.

His warning comes quietly, but it bears a menacing aura all the same. “Speaking to her that way is ill advised, I can promise you that.”

Your hand finds his arm, stroking soothingly through the worn hopsack of the blazer he layered on, hours ago, before your flight. “Jake, it’s alright.”

Never aggressive just for show, and certainly never overtly so, when Jacob feels someone is crossing a line with you, he is quick to polish his armor - a knight sweeping in to save his damsel in distress.

He relaxes visibly beneath your touch and navigates back to civility with a deep breath.

“Alright…” he flicks a glance at the name tag that rests crookedly on the other man’s shirt “Tyler. So you don’t have the reservation - we need a car. You have cars. Simple. Why is this an issue?”

He’s tired, and cranky…a long day of travel has leeched the patience from his bones.

Tyler, likely used to overwhelmed travelers frequenting the airport kiosk, remains unimpressed. “I have one available vehicle. Luxury class. Reserved for our most discerning clients.”

Jake rolls his eyes, clearly teetering on the edge of asking this asshole if he’d like to taste the back of his hand. “As it happens, I am discerning. How lucky for us. We’ll take it.”

Papers are signed, keys are exchanged, and finally, you’re schlepping through the hall leading to Parking garage B7, as instructed.

“Luxury for discerning clients.” He scoffs, hefting his bag, and yours, over his shoulder, though you continue to insist you can share the load.

His battered guitar case swings against his legs as he stomps along, “What an asshole. S’probably some boat of a Lincoln or something…I’m gonna look like a pimp.”

The wide-brimmed hat cocked low over his shades will be most fitting, then, won’t it?

Laughing at his dramatics - not so different from his twin, after all - you watch the doors whoosh open to reveal a deserted sea of concrete. Deserted that is, save for one lone sports car waiting beneath a flickering light.

You both stop short. “Or a frat boy douchebag.”

“Frat boys can’t afford cars like that.” You correct, nudging him to get moving.

He picks up the pace dutifully, “So, just a douchebag, then?”

“Yes, yes, Jacob…you’re very refined and everybody knows it.” You tease, ever the soft heart for his antiquated flare. “If anyone sees you, we’ll just explain that your horse and buggy are in the shop.”

His eyes rove across the lines of the car as you approach. Slyly sweeping over the glossy, black curves, almost hidden below the mysterious shadow of his hat.

“I’ll drive.” He mutters as if it’s no big deal, startling your feet to a standstill.

Never, not once, in the entirety of all the time you’ve known him has he ever offered to drive. In fact, now that you’re exploring the subject, you don’t think you’ve ever even seen him so much as graze a finger over a steering wheel.

“Do you…” you pause to collect your jumbled thoughts. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

It seems strange, all at once - that you’ve never wondered about this before.

“What?” He laughs, finally shaking off the annoyance he’s been wearing on his shoulders for a few too many hours.

You wait while he presses a button on the key fob, opening the trunk with a smooth hiss, asking “well, do you?” as he dumps the bags, and his Gibson, inside.

You’ve seen him present identification hundreds of times, but you can’t recall it ever being anything but his passport.

“Purse in the boot or up front with you, darling?” He asks with an exaggerated swagger and flourish.

“Stop avoiding the question, Jacob.” You sigh, folding your arms as he slings your purse over his shoulder, abandoning Oliver, and moving to open the passenger side door for you. “Do you or don’t you?”

He waits until you’ve settled and then bends at the waist, offering a forehead kiss, and a secret. “I don’t. You wanna break a few rules with me, hall monitor?”

You feel your eyes widen as if he’s just confessed to casual murder for sport.

But you tamp it down and take hold of some perspective, this isn’t murder. Still, you don’t like it.

“Jake, don’t drag me into your debauchery. If you want to endanger the lives of hundreds of unsuspecting motorists, you can do it alone.”

In response, he swings the door closed and jogs around the sloping, gleaming hood, slipping into the driver’s seat, gentle and sleek as a sleepy housecat.

“I never said I didn’t know how to drive, baby,” he tosses his hat in the back and shakes out his waves, “just that I failed to revisit the DMV when ‘the man’ said my time was up.”

“This is stupid.” You slide down in your seat, careful not to reveal how much you’re enjoying the supple leather coasting along the backs of your thighs where your shorts have ridden up.

The opulence is an undeniable high. One you wouldn’t have expected, but there all the same.

He grins to himself, face lit up, beautiful and bright, like a little boy in a toy store. “Debauchery,” his voice is smooth as whipping cream. Smoky. Lazy. Like he plays behind the wheel of a flashy Porsche every day. “Immoral behavior that involves sex, drugs, alcohol, etcetera.”

“What?” You’ve begun to relax already. He is skillfully maneuvering the vehicle through the twists and turns of the garage. Okay, so maybe he does know how to drive.

“Debauchery. That’s what it means. It isn’t this.” He waves a hand, absently calling attention to the car. “But don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, my love. I’ll have you dragged down into the thick of it soon enough.”

Leaning back against the headrest, you decide to give into his whim and enjoy the ride. It’s lovely to be able to strip off the stress of the day and let him take over the department of transportation, for once.

As you study him, with the hum of the road and the purring engine serving as white noise, you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

“Jacob Kiszka,” you allow your grin to widen as it will, “I never would’ve guessed you’d be such a guy.”

He grabs for your hand, pleased that - as luck would have it - he has been blessed behind the wheel of an automatic…the absence of a gear shift leaves him open to holding onto you, and you are his favorite thing to hold.

“What are you on about?” Oliver pops in to say hello again, as is habit when Jake feels a bit too on the spot.

“Never once have you wanted to drive,” you remind him, lacing your fingers through his. “No matter how many times I tease you for being a passenger princess. Wave one fast car with a pretty paint job under your nose and you’re swimming in testosterone.”

A soft laugh is his only response as he coaxes out onto the freeway.

“You look good behind the wheel, baby. You know that?” Your free hand toys with a lock of his hair, smoothing it and twirling it around your pinky.

“I look good, always.” he sighs, feigning boredom as he weaves in and out of traffic to find his desired lane.

The further away from the hub of the city you drive, the more traffic begins to dissipate, until you seem to be adrift along some dystopian highway time has forgotten.

“How long?” You ask softly.

Staring out the window at the scenery whipping by sounds lulling, you might even fall asleep to it, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, and this calm, capable, skill set you never knew he possessed.

How like him to keep you on your toes, sharing bits and pieces of himself little by little. Doling out tiny Jacob Thomas shaped morsels only when he sees fit.

“Who cares how long?” He glances up at nothing in the rear view mirror. “This is nice.”

“It is.” You agree. Allowing the silence to wrap up warmly around you both again.

You watch him. And you watch him. And you watch him some more.

And you’d help it, if you could. Honest. The timing is most inappropriate. Not to mention, likely a little dangerous, but something about watching him command all that power beneath his hands has you weak. Submissive. Needy.

In moments of weakness in the dark, you’ve confessed that you feel the same watching him play. The way he makes love to his well worn and loved guitar. The way he coaxes sex soaked wails and whines from the strings, working his fingers faster and faster along the frets until the climax crashes apart, exploding into sound where there once was quiet.

The way he talks to her, the way he loves her. The way he knows her body just a little better than he knows yours, or even his own. It all makes you a bit jealous in the most decadent way. It makes you eager to showcase your worth as well, to sink to your knees in service to this god walking around amongst men.

He holds a brand new power and you want to slink into his lap and mewl like a kitten starved for attention. Instead, you settle for moving in closer, brushing a feathery kiss against his neck, nuzzling into the crook of it, unabashedly brazen with your want.

“Hello, my love.” His eyes never stray from the road, but his hand wanders your thigh, welcoming you. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m wet.” It’s a simple admission, but the way you hush it in his ear causes his cock to stir. It takes so little from you to pluck at his edges until he’s unraveling at the seams.

“Why’s that?” He adjusts in his seat, spreading his thighs just enough to make your head spin. “All I’m doing is driving a car. Is that all it takes?”

“Sometimes.” You sound pouty. It’s hardly there at all, but he hears it and he loves it. His spoiled rotten sweetheart.

“Well, I’m a little busy, love.” He slides his hand higher, silently wishing you had chosen a skirt today. “But you go on and be sweet to that pretty pink place I love so well. I miss your pussy, baby…it’s been such a long day. Miss the way you feel, the way you smell, the way you taste. I want you all over my face, fuck. Touch yourself.”

“Right here in the car?” You suck his earlobe into your mouth and the nibble over it as if he is an indulgent treat, because he is.

“Yeah.” He nods, grip tightening around the steering wheel, “Right here in the car.”

Maybe some other time you might toy with him a bit, dangle the string just out of his reach, but you’re further off track than he is at this point, so you shimmy out of your shorts and slide out of your sandals to rest your toes on the dash. Your knees fall apart as your fingers disappear into your panties with the tiniest moan when your fingers brush over your clit.

“Aren’t you such a good girl?” He pats at your thigh in praise, burying his grip into the soft, warm flesh there. Filthy, fucking dirty little thing, touching her pretty, wet cunt in a car we don’t even own just because I asked. So good, baby. Who’s my well behaved, darling girl?”

Sometimes you think his need to praise you rivals your own deep-rooted lust for receiving it.

“I’m your good girl.” You breathe, writhing slowly in your seat, drawing in the scent of sex and Italian leather, laced with the faintest hint of his cologne. It has faded with the hours, handing the spiced teakwood over to something a little more Jake…this is when you love it best.

“Then be my good girl and come over here. Come see me, sweetheart.” He extends an arm, casually inviting you in. You know what he wants, and you plan to give it to him.

For a moment, you're both illuminated in the golden glow of headlights traveling along across the median…he looks like the slickest snake masquerading as an angel. A serpent in the garden, ever tempting and cunning.

It’s all a front, as you well know. A role he plays when he wants to make you quake with desire. His heart is soft and kind, ever mindful of others, ever stuffed full of unending empathy and thoughtful love.

Unbuckling your seatbelt with a click that makes him frown, you slide over to the very edge and toy with the clasp of his belt, panting hot little puffs of breath against his flushed cheek, if only to stir him up further.

“You want that?” He lifts into your touch so you can feel how hard he is, all for you.

“Yeah,” tiny pecks of your lips chart his jawline. “Yeah, I want that.”

“Say it.” His fingers are in your hair now, curling into a loose fist near the nape of your neck, pushing you down. “Say you want my cock. Say where you want it.”

You’re hurrying now, tenderly fumbling with the buckle, hungry and desperate for it. “I want your cock, Jake. Want it in my mouth…in my throat.”

“Fuck…” it growls out of him strangled and tangled up with hot, salacious, greed. “C’mon, baby.”

You long to preen with pride; he wants it so badly, so suddenly - but there are more pressing matters at hand.

Both hands on the wheel now, he watches as you sink down around him, swallowing him so deeply, and with no real warm up, that you gag, sucking him down further anyway as you retch and sputter around his length, throat both fighting the intrusion and pining for more of it.

“Slow down.” His warning grits out through his teeth. He didn’t want to say it at all, slow is the last thing he wants. He wants to float off into it, stare focused and sure on the road, thoughts lost in the way you sound fighting around his cock, sucking and lapping over him, dying for just a little more, just another taste….

You shake your head adamantly, sending your soft, wet tongue slicking back and forth just along the base, nearly nudging at his balls as they tighten up for you. Every reaction his body hands over is all for you. Always for you.

“Fuck, baby,” his right hand drops to pet at your glossy hair as he fucks up into your kiss. “Gonna make me cum in that pretty little mouth. Feels so fuckin’ good. You want it?”

Nodding urgently, you bury your nose into the soft path of hair that trails below his belly button, choking until your throat is squeezed around him, strangling the thick head of his throbbing cock.

He’s twitching against your lips now, straining and pulsing, fucking throbbing. Obscene and depraved. Perfect.

“M’close, baby,” he’s murmuring raspy, stuttering, pleas as his grip tightens until your scalp stings blissfully. “Keep going, just like that, so close…baby, baby, baby, fuck…”

He’s whining and babbling, broken curses and hissing encouragement that barely makes sense. You couldn’t love it more.

Hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard on the updrawn and then relax your throat, plunging him straight to the back of it in one harsh go with a guttural sound that makes his thighs jerk.

You feel the slight hitch in the gas as he loses his footing on the pedal, and soothe him with a palm swept under his shirt until you can feel his heart hammering against your palm.

He regains focus - you can feel it - and then whispers a soft, “Thank you, sweet girl.” Grateful that your wits have prevailed when his own were waning.

You linger at the base, licking at what you can with his heavy weight cradled in your tongues embrace. He flexes violently, and you brace for it, gluttonous for the warmth of his release, and with a groan and gasp of your name, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Gonna cum, baby,” oh, he sounds so pretty. Trotting out the tiny whimpers that are saved for when he’s really lost in it. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, dontstopdontstopdontstop, fuck fuck fuck—“

Your taste buds dance with him, alive with the delicacy that is Jacob. So warm and perfect, covering your tongue, rolling down your throat, until you can feel him inside you, really inside you, in the way you love most.

He’s a mess above you, but you carry on until he is whining with overstimulation and begging you to stop, lightly pulling you away until you can just barely lap over his glistening tip as he softens against his splayed open pants.

You know he’s thinking of all the ways he plans to return the favor when he can properly get his hands on you, but as he catches his breath beside you and steals glances at you tucking his beautiful cock away, you feel completely, totally, blissfully, satisfied.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @gretasmokerising @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitiondann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @hugorobinson

[hanadulsetaad]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

"the truth"

part one part two, part three part 5

Hyunjin's POV: she was dying inside that no one texted her after he uploaded a picture of him and Yeji, but when the notification popped up that Y/N wrote she is happy and called both Yeji and Hyunjin her best friend, he got anxious and didn't know what to do. When Hyunjin saw Y/N again, getting on first day of college, it sort of did something to his heart. He realized he missed her, and it was the first time he didn't talk to her for this long; he felt desperate. He wanted her and the group back, but Y/N was not alone; she was with a guy. And when he realized she was sitting with them, he was taken aback. Hyunjin was born into a family where traditions and reputation were above anything. Hyunjin was taught that since he was born in a rich family, his friends should always match his wealth or should be richer than him. Watching Y/N hang out with a bunch of nobodies irritated him. Later, when he saw Y/N in the pink gown at his father's art gallery event, he couldn't take his eyes off her and thought, "What is happening to me?" Hyunjin felt that this was the first time Y/N didn't come behind him or gave a damn about him, so Hyunjin started to feel attracted towards her. He was pissed when he realized Y/N skipped his party for those nobodies, and all the friend group did that too. He wanted to talk to everyone and make Yeji a part of the group again. Seeing those nobodies and the gang together made Hyunjin mad. And he texted in the group.

Hyunjin arrived at Y/N's place 15 minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, emitting a subtle fragrance of roses that made Y/N momentarily forget her annoyance. She greeted him with a casual offer of water, but he cut straight to the chase.

"Why the cold shoulder?" Hyunjin's voice was laced with frustration, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/N's irritation flared up as she replied, "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Hyunjin's expression softened as he guessed, "Because of Yeji?"

"I don't have romantic feelings for you anymore, Hyunjin," Y/N declared, her voice firm. "You distanced yourself from the whole group and started going out with random girls. Then you didn't even come to Changbin's campaign. I thought you were in Korea for the dance academy, but when I saw your Instagram, I understood why you didn't come to the campaign. Whatever happened in school, I thought that was over. You were fine with it, but you changed after Yeji came back from America. Do you think what happened back then was my fault?"

Hyunjin's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Y/N, searching for understanding. "I didn't date anyone," he began, his tone earnest. "When Yeji left, she tried to contact me, but I told her I didn't want to. After a year, she sent me a letter explaining her part. Even though she was wrong here, she apologized, and I spent the entire year just talking to her."

A pang of guilt flashed across Hyunjin's face, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I just told you that I am dating other girls, but I was actually just talking to Yeji," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "When she came back, I realized that I like Yeji, and I distanced myself from you guys because I was guilty." Each word hung heavy in the air, laden with remorse and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Hyunjin's heart sank as he watched Y/N's numb expression, a veil of pain masking her features. He pleaded desperately, "Hey, talk to me, please. I'm sorry, Y/N. I know she did you dirty, but please, Y/N, at least talk to her once."

Y/N maintained her composure, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Hyunjin, it's fine," she replied softly. "I don't think I feel like discussing this issue anymore. I need some space from you and Yeji."

Hyunjin's plea hung in the air, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Y/N, take as much time as you want, but please, do the project with me and Yeji," he implored.

Y/N's anger simmered beneath the surface, her frustration palpable. "Shut up, Hyunjin," she snapped, her tone cutting. "Are you being for real now?"

Hyunjin recoiled, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right response. "Sorry, I just... um, nevermind," he muttered, his gaze falling. hyunjin said: i miss you.

But Y/N remained resolute, her need for space unwavering. "I miss you too, Hyunjin, but I need space from all this drama. I'm done with it," she declared firmly. "I really need friends outside of our group, so please, let me have my space."

The weight of Y/N's words settled over them, a somber reminder of the rift that had formed between them. Hyunjin nodded solemnly, his heart heavy with regret. "As you wish, Y/N. I just want our old group again," he murmured.

Y/N's expression softened, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "Don't worry, I won't ruin our group because of Yeji," she assured him. "See you later, Hyunjin. Bye."

Wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot behind the door, a concerned expression etched across his features. "Hey, do you want to discuss?" he asked gently as Y/N returned to the living room.

Y/N shook her head, her resolve unwavering. "Nope, I just don't wanna talk about this topic. Can you tell this to Changbin and Felix too?" she requested, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

A small smile played on Wooyoung's lips as he nodded in understanding. "Okay, love," he said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek.

taglist: @lee-knows-cats @midsoulz

[nightqueen1221]

Hi, sorry if I am bothering you. I really injoy your writing. If your request are open. Can I ask for Sans and Papyrus from Undertale separately, have a Human Fem s/o that is a/ dating a witch. What would it be like for them dating a witch? How would they react to seeing their s/o using magic for the first time? What would happen if them and their fem witch s/o got attacked by monsters or people and their witch s/o use their full power of magic and fight the monsters or people like a badass. Sorry, if I overdid it. Ignore this if you don't want to do this.💕

Sans

-He honestly didn't care at first. He's dating someone, that's more impressive to him than if they can use magic or not.

-Be prepared for horrible puns involving the word 'witch'.

-He'll have a few questions on things, like do you use a caldron or ride a broomstick.

-If you wear a hat, know you're going to be losing it a lot and suddenly find it on Sans' head while he's asleep.

-When he first saw you use magic, regardless of how complex or interesting it is he'll tell you he's seen better. (Which is most likely true.)

-He asks if you have a spell that will do his chores for him.😑

-Showing him any new spell/potion he just give you a thumbs up. Kinda like if a kid went up to you with something they made.

-I think the only way someone would dare challenge you is if you were in a bad neighborhood and someone tried robbing you two, or it was a Karen thinking humans and monsters shouldn't be together.

-Regardless, you kick ass and whoever you were just having a conversation with has left. Sans kinda just shrugs at it. He's truly indifferent about your abilities, you can use magic? Cool. You can't? That's cool too.

Papyrus

-He has SO many questions.

-What does your magic do? Is it all witch related magic? What's the difference between human and monster magic? How does all of it work?

-You could literally be talking for hours, he doesn't understand anything, but he's trying to keep up to what you're saying.

-"WOWIE! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT BUT IT SOUNDS COOL!"

-He asks for you to give him lessons if possibly. If you do teach people how to use magic he'll going to be your best student.

-Showing him anything new/exciting you learn he's going to be so impressed by and wants to see more. (Unless it interferes interferes with him becoming a royal guard.)

-Reguardless on how you two get into conflict with someone, Papyrus tries resolving things in a manner without violence. Maybe this can all be solved over a puzzle or two?

-As nice and calm as he remains, this person is getting on your nerves and you've just about have had enough.

-Even if he believes the issue could have been fixed without people getting hurt, he is quite impressed by your battle prowess.

-(Bouns points if you have things like a witch hat and cauldron, because you can spot him wearing it while pretending to make potions.)

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Beneath Miles of Stone - Part thirteen - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.

TW: rape/non-con ; violence ; blood ; violence against women ; name-calling, bullying, and fat-shaming ; self esteem issues ; awkward, embarrassing situations

He doesn’t come back. From the time she wakes up at 5PM, she waits for him. Impatient, distracted, not knowing what to do to pass the time. Midnight peaks around the corner ominously, and she’s pacing back and forth in the living room when Michael walks through the door.

He smiles big, sets his bag down on the counter, and greets her. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to see him tonight,” she says, trying not to start crying like an idiot again.

“Oh, hun,” Michael sighs. He pulls her into a cold hug after hanging his jacket up. “Did he tell you you would see him tonight?”

She shrugs. “He said maybe.”

Michael motions for her to sit on the couch. His hair is still glittering with icy rain drops. “Well, at least he’s not lying.”

“I’m just confused. I don’t even know if he actually likes me.”

“If he’s kissing you and introducing you to his friends, then he likes you. Men are stupid. They think that things can be simple and clear cut, but they don’t factor emotions into their master plans.”

“So you don’t think I’m just a…fling?” She asks.

Michael cringes. “Honestly, I don’t know. On one hand, he sounds like he wants you in his life, but, on the other, he seems distant and secretive.”

She nods. “But I haven’t told him how I feel, either.”

“That’s the other thing; most men, like I said, emotionally inept. They need it spelled out. Maybe try telling him or asking him?”

She almost bursts out laughing at that, but just ends up snorting and rolling her eyes.

Michael laughs for her. “Why do you think I’m so bad at commitment? You tell a guy you really like him and suddenly you’re dog shit.”

“You tell anyone you really like them and suddenly you’re dog shit,” she clarifies.

“Men have broken my heart so much and disappointed me that I should be a nun,” Michael nods. “But, here I am, a slut.”

“You’re not a slut, Michael.” She glares at him for the first time since he’s known her. “Plus, there’s nothing wrong with having sex.”

“Well, if I’m not a slut, then I should be. Seriously, how many guys have smashed your heart into pieces? I’m betting the number is one or more.”

“Honestly,” she replies, turning toward him, “my worst heartbreaks haven’t been through relationships. Family and friends have fucked me up more.”

He pats her shoulder. “See, I envy you. You don’t need anybody. You’re strong.”

Now that, makes her burst out in laughter so hard she shakes with it.

“I’m serious.” It’s Michael’s turn to glare. “You’re self made. No one helped you get here. You clawed and fought your way to the top despite being hindered every step of the way. For Christ sake’s, you put yourself through nursing school. You’re a tough bitch and you need to start acting like it.” He pauses, collects himself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” she tells him, holding back her protest.

“I’m just. Sometimes you talk so bad about yourself that it’s just kind of pissing me off.” Michael grabs her hand and squeezes. “I get that you think bad about yourself, and it sucks, and sometimes you can’t help it. But if you don’t value yourself, then neither will leather jacket man.”

Michael’s words sting. He’s making her realize that she’s falling into a pattern of self sabotage and loathing again— the depressing epiphany would be helpful if she knew how to fix it.

“Let me help you get more confidence,” Michael asks. “Come out with me more often. Go shopping with me. Get your hair done just for the thrill of it. You just said the other day about how you wanted to get a haircut.”

All of that sounds truly wonderful in theory, but what about reality? What about the fact that she has no idea how to style her hair once it’s cut or act with the confidence to sport it?

“When you were young, what did you do for fun?” Michael asks.

“Lots of stuff—movies, books.”

“Did you ever play a sport, go to prom, have a shopping spree, go to parties?” Michael asks, eyebrows pulled down in concentration; obviously, they’ve led very different lives.

“No.” She looks away, a little embarrassed by her trashy upbringing.

“Get your nails painted, make out with cute boys under bridges?”

“Nah, boys didn’t…I didn’t really like guys. Feeling was mutual.”

“Jesus,” Michael sighs. “Then we have a lot to catch up on, don’t we? Oh-“ he puts his hand out to stop himself from talking. “My mistake. We can cross the making out off our list.” He grins. “Unless he isn’t cute.”

She drops his hand, laughing sheepishly. “He’s…” she struggles to find the right word, but gets upset just thinking of his absence. “Very cute.” She finds herself sinking into the memory of high cheekbones and woodsy eyes and thermal skin and hungry, rough lips.

Michael waves his hand in front of the glassy look on her face. “Oh, god,” he murmurs. “You’re totally fucked.”

——————————-

Michael thrusts a lace babydoll into her chest so hard that it makes her stumble backward. “Here, is this your size?”

She looks around the room to make sure no one’s watching. Just other women minding their business and digging through racks of lingerie.

She glares at Michael, because he promised that if she at least went in to Victoria’s Secret, he wouldn’t give her any suggestions on purchases. And here he is, handing her a piece of fabric that won’t cover her palm let alone ass.

She sticks it back on the rack it came from. “I don’t think it will fit me.”

He sighs, rummaging through the underwear bin. “How do you know until you try?”

She picks up a tiny, silk thong from the top pile and shows it to him. “How can you wear this stuff? Isn’t it in you the entire time rather than covering you?”

Michael takes the panties from her and examines them, chuckling. “No, see, you’re looking at them wrong. This one my ass would swallow.” He tosses it back, and holds up another in its place with seemingly better coverage all around. “This one would be cute yet practical.”

“Hmmm.” She tilts her head, trying to understand what he’s talking about. “I’m pretty sure my ass would swallow all of them.”

Michael sticks his tongue out at her. “No need to brag.”

While Michael decides on underwear, she goes to smell the perfumes. Now this, she thinks, Victoria excels at. In fact, she just might buy a cotton candy scented bottle that’s half off and the lotion to match.

Michael is proud, grinning, patting her on the back as they walk the mall. “See, Vickie isn’t that bad.”

“Eh, she smells nice, I’ll give her that.”

They both share a giggle.

She asks Michael if they can go into the book store, and he rolls his eyes.

“Babe, no offense, but you go in without me and I’m gonna check out Sephora.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” She taps her face. “When are you teaching me how to do winged liner?”

“As soon as you buy eyeliner,” Michael replies. “Which is why you should come to Sephora. I mean, not to sound like a vapid bitch, but.. the book store? Really?” He’s smiling, teasing her.

“That’s why it’s here, right?���

She doesn’t want to mention the real reason she came in, which is to get a present for John. If she ever sees him again.

She goes right to the romance section and begins to peruse around for something he might like.

The Jackal and the Cat, One Foot in Santa Monica, The Clandestine Candle.

She tries to picture him reading any single one of these, but her mind comes up blank. Maybe he meant that he likes older romance books?

Classical it is.

Two men in suits standing by Agatha Christie’s showcase catch her eye and remind her too much of a certain well-dressed gentleman she admires. Both are tall, well built, fancy and stoic, looking very out of place here in Books A Million.

They unabashedly and suspiciously watch her, and it freaks her out enough that she ducks behind a case of Edgar Allen Poe and Shakespeare. Weird merging timelines, but a great safe haven.

A small elder woman with white, wispy hair, dark skin, and sharp grey eyes smiles brightly up at her. She wears a black pant suit and smells like flowers. Tasteful jewelry adorns her neck and wrists. She has a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo in her hands, flipping it over to examine the shiny hardback spine.

“Oh, excuse me dear, but could you do me a favor? I left my reading glasses at home and I’d really like to hear the summary on this. Can you read it to me?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

After she’s done stumbling over her words, the older woman looks entranced and astonished like she’s one of the best storytellers from this century instead of a fumbling oaf. “Oh, that sounds wonderful,” she says, folding the book into her weathered palms for safe keeping. “Thank you so much. Have you read it?”

“Um, yes, I think in high-school?” Her cheeks get a little warm with embarrassment from being visibly uncultured in front of this sophisticated looking individual.

“Ah,” the stranger muses, “and A Picture of Dorian Grey?”

“I, um, wrote my big book report on that one,” she chuckles, rubbing her arm.

“Anything specific you’re looking for?” The woman asks, ready to return a favor.

“Romance? Something cultured? Older?”

The woman puts a finger to her lips in thought, then her grey eyes light with an idea. “Come with me.”

She’s surprisingly light and quick on her feet for a woman of her age. She actually has trouble keeping up as the tiny woman floats through the store until settling at the back wall. A large sign above the shelves reads: ROMANCE.

The older woman, knowing exactly what she wants, narrows in to the right handed corner. She fingers through some hardbacks, pulls out a plain blue novel, and hands it to the waiting person behind her.

In Safe Hands by Jane Sanford. The inner synopsis promises a thriller romance with a great twist. Plus, it’s a beautiful book. Simple and hardbound, shiny Robin blue. Something that John would appreciate, hopefully.

“Have you ever read this one?” Soft white hair floats into view as she examines the book.

She looks up and smiles. “It’s not for me.”

The elder grins and the devilish look makes her seem years younger. A certain knowing reflects in her face. “Ah.” Her tone is teasing. “A love interest, perhaps?”

The accent wasn’t noticeable before, but now it’s apparent. Some kind of rich, articulated drawl that she thinks she’s heard before.

Her skin heats. “Yes.”

“My, you live in this moment and love it no matter what hardship it brings.” Her crinkled eyes run up and down over the expansive shelves of paper before she looks back up at her and smiles. “Love is rare, you know. At least the good kind.”

She chews her lip. “The good kind?”

The woman chuckles. “I can tell you have the good kind. You’re buying them a romance novel. It can’t be anything else but the kind of love that makes everything else seem dull.”

She wants to believe this desperately. The words resonate in her chest and pound true through the pulse of her arteries. Once again, she misses John violently. Misses the feelings he gives her. She rubs her fingers over the spine of his present and thinks of his wish to be a librarian.

The old woman pats her shoulder. “You have a great day, dear.”

Her attention is drawn back to the movement of her acquaintance. She never noticed the the two men from earlier standing behind, still staring daggers at her head. They tuck the tiny, waving lady between them, and disappear behind shelves.

She meets Michael at a pizza place near the exit and tells him about the weird encounter while they eat.

“You’re living in a romance mystery novel and you refuse to buy lingerie?” Michael rolls his eyes. “That checks out.”

She shrugs. “It’s more pathetic than that.”

“I got you eyeliner,” Michael tells her, taking a bite of baked ziti.

“Michael!” She admonishes. She grabs a bag from their feet and opens it to show him the eyeliner, lip gloss, and small eyeshadow palette that she purchased after leaving the bookstore. “Do you really have that little faith in me?”

Michael cringes and smiles all at once. “Yes, but I’m surprised and proud.”

She grins. “Thank you, I guess.”

They take Michael’s car to a little coffee shop on Wall Street Court that he promises she’ll love despite the hustle and bustle at the heart of the city. He gets a big iced vanilla latte and she orders a smoothie. They sit next to floor-to-ceiling glass windows that give an amazing view of the lavish cityscape.

Important men in business suits and beautiful girls in bodycon dresses flit in and out of crystal business doors. Expensive limos line the streets. It’s strange, to have this scene at her back door when she’s always felt so separate from it. She watches like it’s a movie.

“Do you want to go to the theatre?” Michael asks, tapping at his phone. “Emily and Syreeta are going and want us to join.”

“They want you to join,” she corrects.

Michael glares at her. “Were we not just talking about this self pity thing? They don’t hate you.”

It stings because he’s right, but climbing out of a pit of despair is harder than it looks. Every time she tries to get a hand on the ladder rung above her, the hating darkness bats her away and keeps her stagnant.

“They just didn’t talk to me in the club,” she explains.

“Funny, they said the same thing about you. Just be yourself, like you were with me. When you actually talk, you’re the easiest person to get along with I’ve ever met.”

She sips her drink and thinks about it. “Thank you, Michael, but you’re pretty easy to get along with, too.”

He sighs, puts his phone down, folds his hands, and leans over. “You coming or not? It’s the Nutcracker. Uh, hello, earth to -“

Her attention is totally and suddenly taken by something on the other side of the window, eyes glassed with that unfocused, enraptured look again, and Michael waves his hand in front of her face. “Babe?”

John Wick stands on a street corner, waiting to cross, hands in his pockets. He’s dressed in a black suit and red tie, hair fluffed back, looking as good as ever. Michael glances over at her center of attention.

“Oh my god, it’s him, isn’t it?” Michael is suddenly whispering, although she does not know why. “Which one?”

“Shhh,” she says, embarrassed, looking away, playing into the top secret thing despite no one in here caring about them or what they’re talking about. Welcome to good old New York.

“Listen,” Michael tells her, pushing his coffee out of the way so he can lean over the table. “If you want to go after him and ask him what the hell is up, I don’t blame you. In fact, I support this cause and am here to help.”

“He might be working, Michael,” she says, looking away from John reluctantly.

“Only one way to find out,” Michael grins. “Go after him. Show him that you’re serious.”

Michael’s suggestion is all too tempting. Mostly because she misses him dearly even though it’s only been around 24 hours since they last interacted. It’s obsessive behavior, borderline creepy of her. He’ll probably hate her if she walks up and talks to him, now, but on the other hand, he’s the one barging into her apartment without an invite and cornering her at clubs and waiting outside for her to get home. Isn’t it fair if she returns the favor, shows him she wants this just as much? She glances once more at his broad back—he’s getting away again—and makes a split second, dumb decision.

She gets up, grabs her jacket, tells Michael she’ll be back, and slides her chair in.

Michael yells after her as she walks out the door. “Don’t get kidnapped!! If you’re not home by midnight I’m calling the cops! You better text me! I’m drinking the rest of this smoothie!”

She’s too clumsy to be any sort of sneaky, but she doesn’t really care if he sees her walking behind him - trying to keep up - because he’s going to get a full view of her anyway when they’re face to face.

The sidewalk and streets are blessedly clear of ice and slush and snow, and if she didn’t know better she’d say that divine intervention was on her side, because if she had to walk this fast on slippery ground, she’d already be K.O.’d by the earth.

John turns a corner and she is practically running to catch up with his long legged stride. She murmurs sorry as she whizzes by nicely dressed street patrons a little too closely and receives glares and annoyed murmurs for her trouble. By the time he stops, she’s struggling to catch her breath. He stands on the steps of a large building constructed to take up two corners of the street. It’s center piece among the business district, bleached white by the sun.

A bellman dressed in silver and red stands at the door and waits patiently for the only visitor, John Wick.

Shes grateful that he’s stalled on the steps, staring at a phone that she didn’t know he had, too distracted to see her as she clears the busy street. Drivers lay on their horns, someone screams at her out of a passenger window, and, finally, when her feet hit the curb and she almost wipes out trying to get away from moving traffic, John turns.

“Are you following me?” He wears the exact opposite expression that she wants to see; hatred and anger slash his angular features into something to be afraid of.

She feels like a fox in a henhouse with the farmers gun pointed at her muzzle, head between her legs and automatically backing away from him. She misinterprets his own fear for disgust at and now just wants to turn tail and leave, but the doorman sees her, and he undoubtedly notices her connection to John, and it’s far too fucking late for that.

There is a point that needs to be made to protect the precious pumping blood inside her body and he can’t decide what to do to get that point across when adrenaline is binding fury and fear inside of him tighter and tighter. He feels the tick of his watch against his wrist and relates it to her dwindling innocence and safety. He stalks toward her, one step from him matching four of her own.

John grabs her up by the bicep and drags her along like a stuffed doll to his car.

His grip is hard enough to sink bone deep and make her ache, but she shuts up and lets him take her where he wants, too ashamed to argue with him now.

She’s not sure what’s happening when he hustles her into his backseat and makes her lay flat down on it with her legs curled up on the freezing bench, but she doesn’t resist.

He doesn’t bother telling her to duck into the safety of the vehicle, just handles her into a fetal position himself. “Stay,” he says, and the door shuts behind him, leaving her alone and shivering in the cold leather.

Charon is waiting at the front desk to greet him with a placid smile. John flips him a gold coin in greeting. “Charon.” He tips his head as the man catches his bribe.

Charon’s smile turns ardent. “Hello sir, nice to see you, what can I help you with today?”

“I have a guest in my car. Could you take them somewhere comfortable, safe, secluded while I do business?” John’s voice is poised but his eyes are pleading.

Charon slips the coin into his pocket. “Of course, sir.”

His tensed body relaxes while one of the few people that he trusts to protect an innocent woman takes his keys and leaves the building. She still won’t be safe enough for him to feel entirely calm, and he only has a second to regret not putting her under his arm - the only place she will be completely protected - before he’s walking into the dining hall to meet Viggo and Winston.

“John,” Viggo cries, standing and pulling him into his side for a brief embrace. “Three minutes late?”

Cool sweat forms under his collar at the comment while he tries to remain composed in the face.

Viggo looks suspicious. But John can’t decide if it’s because of a tell on his features or the fact that he’s never been late twice in his entire life.

Viggo motions for him to sit, still cheery. Winston stays tight lipped, formal, poised. John envies him for the mastered skills.

He’s so wound tight that he almost jumps when he feels the oncoming, light pressure of a hand on his shoulder. He’s never been like this in line of Viggo’s sight, and he knows that the man can tell he’s not himself, but he can’t seem to get the vision of her bloody, pulseless body out of his mind. And what he will do to everyone in this hotel as a consequence of it.

“Hello John, can I get you something to drink?”

He turns to the waitress and tries a smile. “Hello Rachel, nice to see you. I’ll have a Blanton’s. Ice, please.”

“On the rocks,” Rachel winks at him. “Got it.” As she walks away, Viggo talks business.

————————————————————

Charon is very nice. He introduces himself, assures her that she will be an “honored guest”, and lets her sit up front while he drives the car into the attached, Continental branded parking garage.

The section they settle John’s car into is filled with other expensive-looking vehicles. She recognizes BMWs and Jaguars from TV commercials. Charon insists upon opening her door, much like someone else she knows, and then guides her to a big silver elevator with neon, red and green buttons blinking in sequence on an expansive wall panel tucked to the side. She thinks he’s going to press one, but instead, he pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the plain metal door beside the elevator that she assumes, at first, is unimportant.

The staircase is lined with soft blue paisley carpet and the walls are decorated with pictures of strange art pieces. She stares at distorted naked bodies and eyeless characters and blurred grey crowds and angels battling bloody demons on top of cotton candy skies as Charon leads her into the dim underbelly of the hotel.

“They are all painted by former and current members,” he tells her.

“They’re really amazing,” she says, not wanting to push questions in fear of offending the overly kind man guiding her to safety that she didn’t realize she needed until she was being manhandled into John’s back seat.

If she lives through this, she’ll have to get permission to take pictures and show Michael. It’s strange, to not know if she’s going to be alive tomorrow or not. Fatality that seemed so fanatical and far away two weeks ago now stands at her doorstep waiting like an expectant courier and she’s starting to get strangely used to its harrowing presence.

Charon lands light on his dress shoes off the last step, and waits for her to catch up. She stumbles a bit on the rough rugs, and he reaches out a hand to steady her shoulder while she smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Do not be sorry,” Charon tells her, patting dust off her jacket. “These floors need a remodel. This is our old entrance: The only people that use it are the ones who can navigate it blindfolded.”

He motions her into a doorway that leads to a drastic change of scenery. In here, everything is modern and brightly illuminated. There are grey leather couches seated around a large table in the center of the room. A bed with black, shiny sheets sits perfectly in the open floor plan, with bamboo plants flourishing on each side of the wide mattress. There is a room that she assumes to be the bath, because it’s the only part of this place with a door attached. Two glass coolers glow with rainbow assortment bottles of alcohol and seltzer waters.

She blinks up at the high ceiling, too distracted by the view to hear Charon ask her if she would like something to eat.

“Miss?”

She stops and looks at him. “What? Sorry?”

He repeats the question. Her stomach growls, but she tames it and tells him that she’s fine, not wanting to be a bother.

“Help yourself to the beverages,” Charon motions, referring to the large coolers. “And feel free to use the room as you please until Mr. Wick retrieves you. This is a private, isolated suite we reserve only for select guests. No one will bother you, but if you should need something, please just pick up the phone and I will be waiting on the other line to assist you.”

She nods at him, using the gesture of gratitude that John favors - already adopting his mannerisms - and gives warm thanks.

“It is my pleasure,” Charon says, “any friend of Mr. Wick is a friend of mine.”

With that, he leaves her.

She has a million questions, but none of them seem more important than keeping hold of John Wick, so she quells them and waits like an obedient dog for his return.

————————————————————

Viggo is leaned back, drinking sweet vodka, negotiating the terms of John’s re-employment.

“It has been different, without you, John.” Viggo rubs the just-greying scruff on his chin, eyeing his former body guard. “Winston, can we still smoke in here?”

“‘Fraid not,” Winston replies, taking his own sip of sour scotch and pursing his lips as if in distaste. “Only downstairs.”

Viggo grumbles. “Gav-no. Why didn’t we go down there?”

“I figured it would be easier for you to run and get to your men if John decides to kill you,” Winston shrugs.

His dry sarcasm and witty grin has Viggo belly laughing, clutching his chest.

John says nothing and takes a drink, trying futilely to calm himself with liquor.

“I think it was stupid that they put you in prison and didn’t expect this to happen, John.” Viggo bites into his ravioli, chews, swallows. “And if they want a war, I will give them one.”

“We did it to prevent a war,” Winston interjects.

“Bah!” Viggo spits. “The war is already happening - it has been for a long time - what’s a little more blood shed going to do?”

“A lot more,” Winston corrects. “Blood shed.”

Viggo comes forward, eyes determined, tosses the silk bib from around his neck onto the table. “So be it. I want you with me, John. And I will make sure no one makes one hair out of place on your head.” He leans back, done eating. “And your head too, Winston.” He nods at the older man, an afterthought.

Winston raises his eyebrows and looks at John expectantly. “Your ball.”

————————————————————

The bathroom is more of a sauna. Different height benches, numerous sprayers on the ceiling, vents that leak hot steam into the room at the push of a button. A toilet with a bidet behind another secret door. The sink is concave marble, adorned with freshly wrapped toiletries and beautiful smelling lavender soap that she honestly thinks about sticking into her pocket and taking home.

Just as she’s about to exit, she hears the loud slam of a door and laughing male voices clanking against one another.

She freezes, turns the lock back, steps away, looks around for an escape which there is none of.

Then, a female voice, pitiful and pleading. She presses her ear to the smooth wood, listening as the woman - language different from her own - becomes more distressed.

Her heart rises from her stomach to her ribs and burns in anger and disgust as she tunes in to the exchange.

“Look at her, all tied up and nowhere to go.”

“Fucking slut.” A hard slapping sound and then a scream of agony from the high pitched female voice. Crying, more despicable taunting from the numerous male visitors.

She’s not thinking of anything but that gut-wrenching yelp of pain when she pushes through the door and steps out into the room.

Five young men have a small woman, completely naked and bound in rope, prone on the cold floor. Their hands bruise her skin as she sobs.

As all their eyes turn to her, reality smacks her in the face like a burst of fire burning her eyebrows off. The woman’s eyes are red and sore, tears streaking down her face. One boot has her cheek pressed down while a hand grabs her hair and pulls taut.

“Hey,” she says, voice filled with venom, adrenaline in her body fire that smokes her vision. “What are you doing to her?!”

The only problem here is that she’s a lone woman in a hotel room with no weapons and these guys look angry for the interruption. Very angry. The one with the boot on the girl’s head gets to her maybe as fast as John can, and grabs her by the collar. “Блять,” he spits, “тебя никто никогда не учил не лезть в свои дела?”

Her heart plummets again as her angry glasses cloud with fear. She’s up on her tiptoes, choking at his grasp, and choking on reality.

He pushes his face down to her own and she smells the potent liquor on his breath. “давай преподам поросенку урок.”

One of his companions answers in English. “Tie her up and make her help.”

The group laughs—this is a joke to them. Isn’t it always a joke? For scumbags who hurt those smaller and weaker than themselves?

She’s so tired of this shit. Men. Thinking they can do whatever they want with no consequences. Hatred tastes bitter in her mouth, so potent it hurts her teeth.

And this guy is nothing like Benny. Benny who she couldn’t even fathom fighting because he was so massive. This man, she could fight. This man, she could hit hard enough to knock down, if it wasn’t for his companions ready to ambush her.

This guy is small, thin, barely taller than her. She knows she can hurt him, so she does, slams upward with her knee and makes squelching contact with his dying erection.

He drops her and she falls back onto her ass.

As his companions laugh, he grabs his dick and moans through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut.

The victory isn’t for long, because now all the rest are coming at her with wicked, delighted intent.

The redhead gets in front of her and crushes her back against the legs of the more muscled member. She’s stuck sitting between them, but she still has her hands and feet, kicks and hits furiously at any soft body part she can find. Redhead yelps in pain as she makes blunt force contact with his balls and screams for someone else to get on her.

Two grab both her arms and twist them at angles that make her screech in pain. It gets the point across, and she stills. Redhead and Russian have stepped away to lick their wounds, but two of the others still hold both her arms in a neatly breaking fashion and the other one has her neck in his hands.

He pats her cheek and squeezes her trachea to play with how much air she’s allowed to have.

“Ah, a wild bull.” His thick accent is hard to understand. “Maybe we should have some fun with you?”

“Disgusting,” the muscled one hisses.

“No, she can clearly eat well,” redhead growls. “Make her eat pussy.”

“Would you like that?” It’s clear now from the potent smell that they’re all very drunk. “You hungry, little pig? Want to get all sloppy at the trough?”

Her wild eyes catch the ones of her bound counterpart, and this woman almost looks bored, in sharp contrast to herself. The agony is gone from her face and she’s watching this scene and practically yawning she’s so uninterested.

She doesn’t have time to be confused before one man twists her arm back again, and she’s sure it’s going to break, so she screams.

The Russian claps a hand over her mouth and tells her what she thinks is the equivalent of shut up.

Charon opens the door, John catches her scared eyes, takes in the picture, and the last shred of his building anxiety snaps in half.

First, he charges the one holding her throat, and a defensive hand doesn’t have time to raise before John returns the favor, grabs him by the neck, and tosses him into a wall.

He’s ready for the others before they have time to realize he’s an enemy.

She watches the unfair fight play out, not because she wants to, but because watching John move is like watching a captivating, bloody ballet, and it’s hard to look away. A big, dumb part of her feels bad for these stupid punks while he wrecks their shit.

He’s just so much bigger than them that it’s insane they think they can counter him. He looks like a giant being pounced on by miniature people. Maybe it’s just the way he doesn’t even try to hit them that makes him seem so massive in comparison. Flipping someone over his shoulder looks like playground antics.

Two by two they fall, until the last one pulls a gun from his holster and aims it at John’s chest. John moves an inch, the bullet hits him in the shoulder, and he simply grunts, inconvenienced, like a bear being shot with a paintball, knocks the gun out of his hand, and moves forward, backing him up and glaring down at the man who is now visibly shaking in fear, head down to submit, hands in the air to keep the apex predator at arms length.

He grabs him by the neck and this guy is thick but John’s whole hand covers his throat. He lifts him completely off his feet with his right hand, and punches him in the face so fast and graceful that it doesn’t even look like it would hurt until she sees the blood fly out of his skull and his nose cave inward.

He’s done with them, so he goes right to her, pulls her up and holds her at arms length to make sure she’s not hurt.

She pushes against him. “John.” Her urgent tone directs him to the bound woman.

John releases her and they both go to help.

She starts working at the knot around her wrists and stomach while John cuts her ankles free

He moves her fumbling hands aside to slice through the rest of the half-assed binding job.

“bạn có nghĩ họ đang làm tổn thương tôi không?” The free woman addresses her rescuers.

John stops. “Đúng.”

John and the woman have a full conversation that she can’t understand.  Catching any word is truly pointless.

The woman sits up and pats her on the shoulder. Then, she rubs her bare breasts and yawns. She tilts her head at John, questioning.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” She asks him. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” John says. “They paid her to have sex with them.”

“She was screaming.”

John shrugs. “That’s what they wanted from her.”

She feels so stupid it hurts. “I’m an idiot,” she whispers.

“She doesn’t think you are,” John says. “She admires you.”

She resists the urge to ask him what she really cares about, which is what he thinks.

They are sitting on the floor criss cross applesauce like in 5th grade reading class when Winston and Charon enter scene. Embarrassment, regret, and pure humiliation consume her as they assess.

“Jesus,” Winston says, looking over the mess. “Is anyone dead?”

“No,” John assures.

Charon starts profusely apologizing to John, but John shakes his head at the repentance and looks, instead, at the naked woman, asking her to tell the newcomers what happened.

Naked woman sighs, annoyed but agreeing.

Winston lays adoring eyes, flooded with realization, on the clothed woman sitting at John’s side, and smiles warmly. He comes and holds out his hand for a shake.

She gives him her own hand and he flips it over and kisses the back. He looks at John while she warms with embarrassment.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em..” Winston muses.

The muscled man tries to stand, but Charon pushes him back down with a shiny black heel. “Sir,” he alerts, motioning at the pile of men. “What should we do with them?”

“Probably something involving a doctor,” Winston says.

“Right away, sir,” Charon nods, pulling a phone from his pocket.

“Are you hurt?” Winston asks her, examining her closely.

She shakes her head no, but points at John. “He got shot.”

Winston looks over and John pulls his suit open to reveal a clean white dress shirt free of bullet holes.

She has to look twice and second guess her own eyes.

Winston sighs. “He wears Kevlar. Most bullets don’t pierce it. He’ll be alright. He’s taken worse than this, I assure you, my love.” He must see the worry on her face because his voice soothes and tames.

She looks at John with a million questions in her eyes, but asks none of them, which he’s thankful for.

Winston addresses the person in the room with the least clothing and they talk for a moment.

John puts his hand on her shoulder and slides over to talk low in her ear. “Did they hurt you?” He asks.

“Not as much as you hurt them.” She tries to comfort him.

“I’ll kill them if you want me to.”

“No you will not.” Winston switches from Chinese to English, turning on his heel to point a warning look and finger at John. “I’m already going to have enough trouble trying to make it seem like this wasn’t business, Johnathan. Plus, I don’t think Viggo will keep you employed if you kill his son.”

John sucks on his teeth and glares at the annoyance that is Winston’s rude interruption before focusing back on her. “My offer stands.”

“No,” she tells him, looking from him to Winston. “I don’t want you to kill anyone.” She grabs his hand and squeezes, pulling it into her lap.

She sounds like she means that, so he stays put, but he hasn’t decided for himself whether they’re going to live or die yet. Especially when they leave Continental ground and hunting season opens.

A loud knock brings the conversation to a small Asian man in a white suit and slacks entering the room. He wears a stethoscope and carries a brief case.

“John.” His set frown turns into a natural smile. “Long time no see.”

“Hey Doc,” John nods.

He sets to work like this is all completely normal. The smell of ammonia and iodine and salt is an affront to the senses as he opens his briefcase and begins waking and treating.

John tugs on her as if to escort her away, but Winston stops them. “Let me get you out of here so that no one else sees her.”

John settles, but he’s not taking chances, so he drags her into his lap with her head tucked under his chin and his tight arms wrapped around her protectively. Want her, go through me - the point is apparent

“John,” she grumbles, squirming to adjust, embarrassed by his parenting behavior but clinging to him anyway. She’s just happy he doesn’t seem to be mad at her, now.

Naked woman comes over and snuggles into John’s side, gripping his bicep to bulging, starring smugly at the groaning group of bleeding, bruised men.

John side eyes her, but allows it, reasoning that she must be weary of them trying to get their money back, and not one to deny someone - who is seemingly vulnerable - protection.

Viggo’s son sits up, spits out blood, and looks their way. He opens his mouth to say something, but the look on John’s face makes his snarl falter. “John,” he nods in greeting.

“Iosef,” John nods back.

The braver Russian man starts with venom, but Winston interrupts him. “If you think I can actually keep him from killing you or worse, you’re very wrong.”

He closes his jaw.

She feels like they’re in kindergarten and they have all just gotten into a fight so the teacher is making them sit on the floor and have quiet time.

Violent stares, instead of words, are shot back and forth until the doctor breaks a nose back into place.

Then, the only voice that has occurred in a while is the scream of this man.

John wants to make them apologize, because he knows she’s hurt by the things they said about her, but he doesn’t know if it would actually help her self esteem or harm it, so he stays quiet and promises death with his eyes.

“Now,” Winston addresses the room. “Unless you wish to forfeit the protection this hotel provides, you will forget this happened.”

“He beat us up,” the man with the thick accent argues.

“And you broke into a private room and assaulted a woman,” Winston tells him. “Sounds like you started it. If he’s in trouble, you’re in it bigger. So, nothing happened, correct?”

“We payed her,” Iosef growls, staring at the naked woman who clutches John tighter.

“That’s not the woman I’m referring to,” Winston says.

She looks up at John and it seems like he’s daring the other man to say something. She pulls at his shirt to get his attention, and he looks down at her, misreading the worry on her face.

“We’ll leave soon,” he says.

She sighs and leans her head on his chest, giving up.

Winston begins to say something, but interruption comes in the form of her phone’s vibrating ring.

All eyes focus on her as she digs it from her pocket, puts it on silent, and texts the frantic Michael that she’s fine and she’ll explain later.

John makes a mental note to beat the roommate into submission so that he’s a little less possessive.

“Uh, sorry,” she tells Winston.

“Quite alright,” Winston assures, smiling big at her like she can do wrong when, judging by this debacle, she definitely can and will.

John refuses to let her go until they’re in the back seat of an unlicensed black suv and being driven away from the building.

Even now, he keeps her tucked under his arm.

She looks up at him. “Sorry,” she says.

He keeps his eyes on the window scenery to avoid making her feel awful with his uncontrolled, cold expression.

He sucks on his teeth. “We will talk, not here.”

He pulls her further against him and she stays quiet.

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel For Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 10]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: Jules and Noah finally face their difficulies, leading to them letting down their guards.

WARNINGS: ANGST, NSFW, MDNI, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v) [does it even count as unprotected, she is a fucking guardian angel idk], even more angst, swearing, mentions of mental health issues, mentions of death, ...

A/N: I cried. A lot. :) Also! I'd like to dedicate this chapter to @crimson-calligraphyx because I accidentally gave Jules' best friend her name in the exact same spelling as her own name! ALSO... this is not proofread... i'm sorry about that ._.

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence @wild-child-7747 @thebadchic @thescarlettvvitch @cookiesupplier

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

“What am I doing?” Jules asked herself while looking at Noah’s sleeping figure. It’s been three hours since he had finally fallen asleep and Jules felt numb. Her heartbeat took some time to slow down a bit, but her mind was still racing as fast as it gets. She couldn’t get the image of him trying to climb over the balcony railing out of her head. She knew he wasn’t doing well but she didn’t realize it had been that bad. He needed help she couldn’t give him.

Every time she considered a strategy to help him, she couldn't follow through with it. The idea of merely returning to exist in his shadows appeared more impossible than ever. All of her past actions seemed like a lot of bad decisions. The fact that she now also had promised him to talk about the situation and see him again, made her feel even more at unease.

Her gaze remained fixed on Noah, and she felt a wave of nausea. It seemed impossible to get herself out of the situation. She didn’t want to leave him; he needed support, and she was determined to find a way to help him overcome his misery.

TWO WEEKS LATER

When Noah opened the door to his room, a deep sigh escaped him. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual, and he found himself in a state of uncertainty. It had been a while since he last saw Jules. She didn't come to talk to him as she had promised, and although he yearned to resolve things, he understood it might be for the best.

He had phoned his therapist as soon as he woke up and made an appointment for after the tour. After that he went on and did his best. He performed as good as he could and even though the tour had been successful he was more than glad that it had ended.

His therapy session had just ended and now he didn't really know what to do. He was angry with himself that he let his intrusive thoughts get a hold of him back than but when he was being honest with himself he was even more disappointed that Jules didn't show up as she promised.

When he sat down at his desk, his phone suddenly vibrated.

ONE NEW NOTIFICATION FROM SADIE

He hadn't heard from her since that night he almost had a car accident while driving to her.

Sadie: What's up? You wanna meet up?

Noah stared at the message and began to bite the inside of his cheek. It wasn't like he didn't like her or something but since he met Jules, he hadn't thought of Sadie even once.

He sighed before laying down his phone again. This was dumb. He was acting dumb. He had this really nice girl waiting for him and he would have the advantage of getting rid of some stress, but he preferred to sit there and mourn his damn guardian angel. He wasn't even remotely sure what he was hoping to get out of it.

So, he stood up and grabbed his jacket and right as he was about to leave his room, he felt a hand on his shoulder and simultaneously his anger level seemed to explode.

"You can't be serious?" He blurted out and spun around to look at Jules. She looked terrible, if he could even say that. If she would still have been alive, he would have said she hadn't slept in a while.

"Noah-..." - "No! No fucking 'Noah'." - "I-..." - "Shut up, you didn't talk then and now I don't want to hear your excuses!"

He tried to turn around but Jules grabbed both of his shoulders to make him look at her. "You know damn well how difficult this whole thing is" Jules exclaimed and tried to suppress her tears.

"No, Jules. It isn't really difficult to just show up and talk." He answered her, ignoring his desire to touch her.

"You seem to forget who the fuck I am, Noah! I'm not even supposed to be here." She snarled at him.

"Then go." Noah answered coldly before getting out of her grip and storming of. He didn't even stop when he passed Nick who gave him a confused look.

He didn't allow him to think anything until he drove out of the drive way. Screams from the music echoed through his car as he gribbed the steering wheel harder. He couldn't believe this whole fucked up shit was happening as if he didn't already have enough to deal with.

When he left the neighborhood, he suddenly felt at unease and could just roll his eyes. "This isn't working, Jules. I'll still leave."

Nobody answered him. He was furious.

His knuckles slowly began to turn white from his hard grip on the steering wheel as he suddenly let out a frustrated groan and turned around as soon as he saw the last gas station before he would reach Sadie's house.

“Fuck off.” Noah shouted into the darkness. He couldn’t believe how much Jules had him in his grip. The last couple of days he tried his utter best to clear his head, get things sorted out, work on the problems that already consumed his mind, but Jules was the one thing that never left him. He couldn’t escape her, and he hated her for that.

“You need to stop, Jules.” He screamed and still, there was no answer. So, when he re-entered the house and stormed to his room, he was about to trash his room when he saw Jules sitting on his bed, staring at the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screamed at her, causing her to flinch.

“What are you talking about?” She wanted to know, not even caring to look up at his angered face. She really didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Oh, come on, Jules.” He answered her and started pacing up and down the room. He needed to let go. He needed to get rid of his piled-up frustration.

She slowly stood up from his bed, her eyes following his wandering figure. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know what he wanted. But she knew her following spiteful comment didn’t ease the tension. “Enjoyed your trip?”

Noah stopped in his tracks. “You can’t be fucking serious, Jules.” – “Care to explain your psychotic outburst?”

When Noah looked at Jules like that, he didn't realize how exhausted she appeared.

Instead of answered her, he began to shake his head unamused. “You know exactly what you did.” – “You’re insane.” – “OF FUCKING COURSE… I’m talking to my fucking guardian angel who seems to have a great jealousy issue.”

Jules' brow furrowed as she processed what Noah had just yelled at her. His eyes sparkled with a slight hint of madness. A couple of seconds passed, before Jules finally realized what Noah was trying to tell her.

“You think I made you turn around from your booty call?” Jules wanted to know from him.

“I don’t think it, I know it and I need to know why.” Noah answered her and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Jules blinked a couple of seconds and felt a wave of relieve wash over her. “I hate to break it to you, Noah… But I wasn’t even following you.”

Jules looked into Noah’s eyes and saw how confusion washed over him. He wasn’t sure what he should believe anymore. He let out a frustrated sigh before he sat down at the edge of his bed, Jules eyes following him with concern.

"Why didn't you talk to me like you promised?" He asked her after a couple of minutes of silence, his eyes finally meeting hers.

Jules' heart sank at his broken frame. She didn't know what to say. She knew she had been a coward but she just wanted him to forget about her.

"This is all so confusing, Noah. I feel like we always run in circles." She breathed out and sat down next to him. "I think it would be best for me to just go back into your shadows, Noah. I'm making your live even harder than it already is."

Noah, deciding to ignore her statement, turned his upper body to her, "You need to tell me something, Jules."

She looked into his dark brown eyes which sparked with curiosity. Every time she dared to glance at him like that, she felt like she was going to crumble under his gaze. "What is it, Noah?" Her voice was not more than a whisper, both of them scared to ruin the moment like they did so often in the past.

"Did you feel it, too?" He calmly wanted to know and Jules heart rate increased rapidly. He didn’t even have to explain what he exactly meant.

If she felt it too? Of course, she did. Of course, she felt how their hearts aligned the first time their eyes met. Of course, she felt how she wanted nothing but to be close to him. Of course, she felt it too.

But Jules also knew she couldn’t just say that.

Noah's eyes never left hers. He wouldn’t let this go again. He needed to know if he really was going crazy. He noticed how Jules began to pick the skin around her finger nails and decided to step in. He carefully grabbed her hands. Again, there was this wave washing over him, every time he got to touch her.

And of course, she felt it too. But she didn’t know what to do. She knew, if she would talk, there was no way out of this anymore. Even less than before.

Noah, in the mean time, realized what her answer would be, giving her shift in demeanor. But he needed to hear it from her.

"Don’t make this harder than it already is, Noah." Jules whispered, both of them still getting lost in each other’s eyes.

"So, you felt it too." Noah exclaimed, not letting go of the subject.

Jules swallowed hard. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to let Noah go, but when he looked at her like that, their hands still intertwined, she felt like she was about to explode.

"Say it, Jules." Noah demanded, "Say it and I’ll let you go."

Jules' ears were ringing. Her cheeks were burning and the slight tint of Noah’s cheeks gave away, he was feeling the exact same thing.

"You promise?"

Noah nodded.

"I thought, I lost you." Jules than let out, causing Noah to raise his brows while Jules felt her tears coming up. "I-… I thought, you would do it, Noah. I had this gut-wrecking feeling that you would die…"

Noah swallowed hard.

"If that was the feeling Keaton felt when I was hit by that car… I-… I don’t wanna feel that every again… It felt like I was dying again." She explained while tears fell down her cheeks. Noah wanted to wipe them away but he decided against it, fearing he would lose her again.

Jules squeezed his hands harder.

"When I saw you making an appointment with your therapist and doing rather well after I left that night… I just didn’t want to disturb you again." Jules explained, only interrupted by her own cries.

Noah's heart sank. He knew he wasn’t doing well and he did everything he could to change that again but seeing her so broken because of his action made it even worse for him. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her and yet it seemed it was the only thing that brought them together. Hurting each other…

"I'm supposed to help you when you are in trouble. Prevent you from bad things but I feel like I’m the trigger to get you to do bad things and that’s just because I was so dumb to show myself." She rambled on, feeling a sense of relief from finally letting go of her thoughts. Noah's eyes became watery.

"But the biggest mistake was to let you touch me, Noah, because-…" Jules stopped mid-sentence, in hopes she could calm herself down, but nothing helped. The tears were flowing like there was no tomorrow.

"Tell me, Jules." Noah asked with a raspy voice from trying to hold his tears back.

"Because we both know this was the moment there was no going back." Jules whispered and sniffled quietly. Her gaze fell down to their hands, both of them holding each other with such force, as if one of them would explode into the nothingness.

Noah slowly let go of one of her hands and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Than he placed his hand under her chin to make her look at him. This was enough for Jules.

Everything she desperately wanted to keep from him broke out of her.

"I don’t even know if these feelings are real…" Jules let out and stopped in her tracks again. Noah gave her an encouraging look to go on.

"I feel so alive with you… You make me feel alive, Noah." She whispered and stared into his brown eyes.

For a couple of seconds, they just looked at each other, both processing what Jules had just said. And than… Noah broke.

"You're someone worth staying alive for, Jules."

Jules blinked for a second, trying to fight the urge of getting closer to Noah, but Noah took the decision from her when he mumbled "Fuck it..." and not even a second later grabbed Jules face and let their lips connect.

As their lips met, the scent of his cologne enveloped Jules, making her head spin with desire. Noah felt exactly the same. The warmth of her kiss spread through him like a comforting blanket on a chilly night.

For a second, both of them forgot how fucked up their situation was. They just pretended they were two adults, connect by fate. It was a bittersweet exchange, a mixture of longing and fulfillment that lingered in the air.

Their bodies gravitated toward each other, closing the distance as if pulled by an invisible force. Soon, Jules was being pulled onto Noah's lap and let her arms fall around his neck, while he grabbing onto her waist as if she would vanish any second.

Nothing even compared to the sensation Jules felt in that moment. Noah was the only thing on her mind and nothing was going to stop that. It felt like she only existed for this exact moment. To be close to him, to be held by him. All of his was new for her but she felt this deep need to get even closer to him.

For Noah, it felt like he had eaten the forbidden fruit. He had been in situations like this before but nothing in the world was able to compete with the feelings that washed over him, while his lips collided with Jules'.

When they finally pulled away, the air between them crackled with a newfound energy, the unspoken promise of what was to come. Their eyes met, a silent conversation passing between them, unlocking emotions that had long been hidden.

Jules' lips were red and puffy, while Noah's hair was even wilder then it had been just a couple of minutes ago.

Moments of silence passed between them, both getting lost in each others eyes.

Right as Noah was about to break this silence, Jules became bold. She closed their distance again, not being able to stand even a slight loss of contact with Noah. She felt her heart beating so fast that she was convinced for a second that she was in fact still alive.

She tried to push her thoughts of the future away as Noah's hands slipped under the plain shirt she wore. Jules shivered under his touch.

Even though Jules had no idea what she was doing, she let her feelings get a hold of her and began kissing down Noah's tattooed neck. She felt like she was going to explode when she heard his heavy breaths. Her hand grabbed the base of his hair without a second thought when Noah suddenly thrusted his hips up.

Jules moaned out in a mix of confusion and arousal. She couldn't believe this was really happening. She never made anyone feel the way Noah felt right now.

Noah pushed her slightly against him when she lifted her head again to look into his love drunk eyes.

"Are you okay?" Noah mumbled out, waiting for Jules' consent to the situation.

Jules looked at him for a short second before nodding frantically. She needed more. She needed Noah.

When she tried to kiss him again, he slightly backed away, a smirk on his face. "Use your words, Jules."

"I'm-..." Jules struggled to get out, "I'm more than okay, Noah."

Their lips connected again in a heated kiss and seemingly everything went fast, just like their whole relationship.

They helped each other out of their shirts, before Noah turned them around, hovering over the angel in front of him. He tried not to think about the fact that he was in fact making out with a somewhat ghost.

Jules was real to him. Jules was everything he needed right now.

He planted some soft kisses on her skin and felt how his lips began to prickle. This felt so unreal to him.

"You look so fucking beautiful." He breathed out while letting his hands run over her upper body. Jules felt goose bumps forming all over her skin. She couldn't quite comprehend how she was the angel in their position when every single touch of his felt so godlike.

“I-… I feel like I need more.” Jules said quietly even though it came out more like a desperate plea.

Noah’s hand traveled up to her breast slowly, pinching her hardened nipple for a short second. He didn’t miss how Jules thrusted herself against his thigh for a short second.

“Does it feel good?” Noah breathed out with a faint smile on his face before kissing Jules’ cheek.

Even though Jules had little to no experience, she noticed how he tried to tease her, but she wasn’t able to mock him back. She needed him so bad.

Jules whined out Noah’s name. “It feels so good.”

Noah kissed her deeply, quickly involving his tongue to get a taste of her. Jules couldn’t help but moan into his kiss loudly. Noah loved it, getting addicted to every precious noise he brought out of Jules. Just when Noah brought his knee between her legs, Jules swore she was about to die again. She couldn’t believe this whole thing was even better than she read in her little novels back when she was living in her small flat. Although their kisses slowed down a bit, their actions didn’t.

Jules shyly let her hand travel down Noah’s body, finding its way on his hardness. Noah felt like he was going to explode.

“God. Where did you learn that?” He moaned out in surprise, still not quite processing what was happening while Jules’ moves let him sink deeper into his delusion.

“You know? Reading books can help.” Jules smiled into the kiss, noticing how she got even wetter at his exclaim.

Her hand gripped him harder.

Noah let out a deep moan as he kissed down her neck and moved the hand that was previously placed on her breast down her stomach. Shortly they found their place on her clothed core. It didn’t take him long to push through the waistband of her shorts and she started to lightly massage her clit.

“Holy.” She moaned into his mouth while arching her back.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Noah whined out, causing Jules to giggle.

“And here I thought I was a reason to stay alive for.” She whispered out with a smile, causing Noah to tease her wet entrance with his fingers before going back to her clit again. Noah smiled at her aroused expression.

“You’re going to be the death of my piece and mind.” He corrected himself, before Jules let go of his hardness to help him get her out of her last pieces of clothing.

Looking at his angel in all her glory was mind blowing to Noah. He was sure he felt his cock twitch in excitement when he looked at her beauty. It felt like she was glowing, and Noah just craved her taste even more.

But he wanted to take it slow. He didn’t know if this was the last time. He didn’t know if they were going back to their weird state of knowing about each other but ignoring their connection at the same time. He would do everything in his power to burn these images in both of their heads.

He circled her clit faster and faster as he leaned forward to kiss Jules deeply. He swallowed every moan of her as he felt himself get more and more aroused.

Then, for a moment, he stopped and looked the girl under him in the eyes, asking for silent consent. Jules slightly nodded; her mind clouded with the man in front of her.

“Please.” Jules groaned as she felt his fingers sink into her deeper and deeper.

“You’re so tight, I can barely fit my fingers in.” Noah teased the girl as he, again, kissed her neck.

Jules gripped Noah’s hair tightly as she pushed herself down on his hand. It was a brand-new sensation for her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t touched herself during her lifetime, but feeling Noah’s fingers inside of her felt like she was meant to be his.

Noah quickened his pace, while his other hand found it’s way to her cheek, caressing it with softness. Her moans echoed through the room, and he wanted nothing more but to record them and play them over and over as if it was his favorite song.

Jules leaned forward to catch Noah’s lips again. Jules didn’t know what had come over her but everything just felt so good and right.

“Fuck, you are perfect.” Noah muttered into the kiss. “Please… Please come for me. You can do it.”

And Jules did. The words and moans that come out of her mouth nearly made Noah come on the spot. She barely had the strength anymore to tell him how good he made her feel while she began shaking in pleasure. All she could do was running her fingernails over his bare back.

For a couple of seconds, Jules just whimpered in ecstasy.

“Your voice is my favorite sound.” Noah whispered and peppered kisses on her cheek as she came down from her high.

All Jules could do was capture Noah’s lips in another kiss, showing her gratefulness to share this moment with him. The kiss became deeper as she wrapped her arms around him, catching him in a firm embrace. She couldn’t let go of him.

Noah let it happen. He also slung his arms around her as if life depended on it. But hugging each other seemingly didn’t do enough anymore.

“Again…” Jules mumbled into his shoulder, causing Noah to widen his eyes. “I need you.”

“Shit… You really want to?” Noah asked, making sure he wasn’t dreaming right now. He lifted his body up slightly, to look her in the eyes.

“I need to feel you, Noah.” Jules whined and left the man over her speechless.

Fuck.

Noah needed to calm himself down. He was already so close to letting go of himself, when he simple looked at his angel. Even now, with the remains of their shared moment hanging in the air, he wondered how it would feel to be inside of her. That’s when he allowed himself to think about the fact that Jules was in fact not a person wandering this earth. He was kind of sleeping with a ghost… Or going insane… Probably both.

“We don’t need t-…” – “I want to, Noah.”

Noah let out a deep breath, nearly unable to ignore his own lust. Jules noticed the conflict going on in his head and quickly came to his rescue. She captured him in a sweet and soft kiss.

“I promise. I want this.” She muttered against his lips. “I want to be close to you. Do you want to?”

Noah nearly crumbled because of her words. Of course, he wanted her. So badly.

Noah swallowed hardly before deciding to let go. He quickly got out of his clothes, giving Jules almost no time to look at his beauty, before coming back to her, kissing her with such force, she nearly moaned again.

He placed himself between her open legs, thrusting his hardness against her pussy a few times, while analyzing her reaction with great interest. Jules took in every second she had with Noah. She was willing to do nothing else for the rest of her weird existence.

If Jules hadn’t already corrupted every little space of Noah’s thoughts, she would have done it now. Everything he could feel, taste, sense… It was Jules. Everything was Jules.

Jules shyly reached down to grab his erection and ran her hands up and down for a couple of times. Noah meanwhile began to shake under her touch. “It feels so good.”

His words hypnotized Jules as she circled her hand over his tip and stroked it a few more times. She would have never thought everything would lead to this moment. Jules felt her heat throb before moving her hips slightly upwards to guide his hardness into her.

Just the tip sinking into her, made both of them moan out. For a moment, Noah stayed still as he watched the woman move her hips even more to give him better entrance. Inch by inch, his cock sank into her, their breaths and whines echoing through the room as he stretched her out.

Noah begged this wasn’t just a dream. It felt more real than anything ever before.

“You’re taking me so well, angel.” He breathed out before placing a small kiss on her lips.

“You feel so good.” Jules answered him and looked into his eyes lovingly.

With that he finally thrusted into her. Everything aligned in that moment. All the moments they shared, all the fights, all the difficulties, all the feelings. Everything felt like it happened to bring them to this moment. It was as if they were the only to individuals existing in that moment. Sweet words were whispered into the heavy air of the room as the both of them gave each other exactly what they craved. Each other.

“Keep going. Noah. You feel so good.” Jules whisper shouted.

“God…” Noah moaned. “I love this so much.”

His pace became faster.

Without even thinking, Jules let out her next words. “I wanna feel your cum.”

Noah’s whole body prickled at her words. He couldn’t form words anymore, everything was hazed with the emotions he felt for her. He loved her. He loved being with her. He craved her.

Jules moved to meet his thrusts. Noah bit his lip. “You’re taking me so well.”

Jules kissed him again, feeling like she had never felt more emotions at the same time in her life.

“That’s it. Let go, Jules.” Noah grunted, making sure to give Jules her time. He was hitting all the perfect spots.

His thrusts became harder, while he captured her hands above her head, getting even better excess. They moaned in sync. It was their final straw.

They both came with a loud moan, his cum spilling inside of her with each thrust. For a few moments, their heavy breaths were the only thing that filled the room. Both coming down from their highs with a few kisses, all filled with the silent confessions of love.

When Noah caught his breath again, he kissed Jules again. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

“So are you.” Jules answered him with a sweet smile while she gazed over his face. He was in fact so beautiful. From his dark brown eyes that held so many secrets, to the small freckles plastered over his face.

Slowly, Noah let himself fall into his bed, cuddling into her side immediately.

Jules, meanwhile, stared at the ceiling of Noah’s room, while her thoughts began to flow her brain. This actually happened. She, an individual dangling between life and death, had sex with the person she was supposed to guard. But he wasn’t just any person. He was Noah. Her Noah.

It took the two a couple of minutes, maybe an hour to finally speak up again.

“You don’t even know how much you mean to me.” Noah whispered out and brushed a strand of her out of her face. His anxiety had also caught up to him, but he tried to ignore it for a second longer while laying there.

Jules bit her lip. Her heart skipped a beat at his words, even though she tried to function normally again. “I can’t even describe what you mean to me.”

She turned to look into his eyes. She quickly noticed they both knew what was eventually going to happen now.

“One night.” Noah whispered in a pleading tone. “One night, where we don’t think about it.”

Jules swallowed hard. She knew it was going to end rather soon than late. She didn’t want it to but she knew it had to go this way. So, she nodded.

“One night.”

With that she leaned forward and kissed him again. She kissed him with such force, he wouldn’t have any chance to miss what she was trying to say.

After that, they got even closer to each other, letting each other embrace the love they shared for a moment…

One night…

PART ELEVEN

[sl33py-g4m3r]

ramble about FreeBSD and Unix~~

how out of my depth would I be trying to install FreeBSD?

would it even boot on my machine?

am I smart enough to go through the install for the system itself as well as get the GUI that I want?

I think you have to go through the command line for quite a bit of time before you get a GUI up and running....

I started off being really interested in BSD/Unix in high school, and tried to fiddle around with a BSD live disc thing in a book (that I don't remember the name of) and then only fiddled around with Linux.

I've been watching videos on youtube of people expressing how stable FreeBSD's modern release is~~

I want to use it on my own hardware; but that's a problem with it I believe, is that it works on sort of limited amount of hardware, as opposed to Linux, that you could even run on a toaster...

Is it really that much harder to deal with than Linux?

Of course I've only dealt with a few distros~~ the rundown of distros I've messed around with are;

Ubuntu (not anymore tho)

Debian (current os being Linux Mint Debian 6)

OpenSUSE briefly (tried to get my sibling to use it on their laptop, with them knowing next to nothing about Linux, sorry...)

Fedora back in high school, I ran it on a laptop for a while. I miss GNOME....

Mageia (I dual booted it on a computer running windows 7, also in or right after high school, so a long time ago)

attempted GhostBSD but it wouldn't boot after install from the live CD (also many years ago at this point)

I like to hop around and (hopefully now I have, yeah right...) I can't make up my mind which I actually want to use permanently.

Linux Mint Debian edition is really good so far tho~~!!

Current PC is an ASUS ROG Stryx (spelling?) that I bought on impulse many years ago~~ Was running windows 10, fixed the issue and now use the OS stated above~~

or maybe I should maybe ditch Mint and run straight Debian... Thought of that too. and it might have an easier time installing and actually booting than FreeBSD on this machine...

but then BSD and by extension unix is meant to be used on older hardware and to be efficient both in execution of things, and space.

"do one thing and do it well" iirc was a bit of the unix philosophy...

yeah, no I HATE technology /heavy sarcasm/

[coredrill]

Saw your post and genuinley wondering: what is wrong with the bravern sub? Dont think i've seen anyone talk about it but i also got into bravern fairly recent so *shrugs*

hey anon!!! sorry if i caused any confusion, that post was kind of a joke lmao. there are a few issues with the bravern subs, but they are mostly minor, imo:

why did they translate "gattai" as "fusion". why is it not "combine". this honestly might not even be incorrect but it bugs me way more than it should FLSKDJHF, it just feels like such a strange choice when a "combining robot show" is like. a known phrase used in english-language discussion of mecha anime, and everywhere else i've seen it translated it is "combine" rather than "fusion"

there are a number of places in the script where the subs use strange spellings or just swap out words completely. like for example, the crunchyroll subs call the deathdrives "cupiridas", "knuth", and "popalchipum", whereas the official site calls them "cupiditas", "cunus", and "paupertipum". also, crunchyroll likes to translate バーン as "burn" when the official site indicates that it should probably be "bang", so there's some discrepancy with bravern's forms like "burn/bang bravern"……which like since it's spelled phonetically i kind of understand but also it's in the show's title. LMAO. also for whatever reason the final/golden form of isami-bravern is called "burn brave big bang" in the subs but "bang brave big bravern" on the site ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this one's really the only one that fucks up the understanding someone might have of the show, and it's that in episode 8, knuth(/cunus lmao) has the line "i had this feeling deep inside that i couldn't share with anyone." but it's actually supposed to be referring to SMITH'S feeling deep inside that HE couldn't share with anyone. which again, i get why it happened bc in the japanese language a lot of times the subject can be dropped and that is most likely what happened here………..but. like. smith's "deep feeling" of gay love for isami is the driving force of bravern's VERY EXISTENCE so it feels like kind of an important line to get right!!

so yeah, mostly i was just shitting on crunchyroll for not caring about mecha FLSKJDH, there aren't huge issues from what i am aware of!! and it all just seems like earnest mistakes rather than anything malicious or whatever, but it does sadden me to know that there likely won't be any incentive for CR to go back and fix them 😔

[cloud-somersault]

so just read your review of s5 and i definitely think that this season wasn’t lmk’s best and tbh the ending falls flat for me

i honestly think it’s the pacing and how everything is fixed with a bow too quickly and there’s not enough time to really process and delve into. which the specials help with, but we didn’t get one here and it just makes me go :/

there were a lot of good moments like you said (and i am latching onto them for my own safety bubble lmao) but omfg yeah when you mentioned the unexplained magic system i could not have nodded harder because HOW???? HOW DOES MK JUST KNOW THE SPELLS????? i can only suspend my belief for so much. i do trust them to explain eventually but how long do i gotta wait ;-;

sorry for the mini rant at the end. i just haven’t seen others also mention lmk’s issue with its magic system and yeah

first off, i love people using the smaller text to appear as if they're whispering. LOVE that. it's so cute.

second, that wasn't my full review. more of my initial thoughts. If I did a full review, it would be 10 pages long with sources and it would be peer reviewed and have footnotes and stuff. I still might do that. LMFAO

but s5 spoilers ahead, ofc.

but! yes. The pacing in LMK has always been quite fast! and that was less noticeable when the stakes were lower. but now that the world's always going to be in jeopardy, apparently, then. the pacing is really too fast for what they want to do.

We don't have time to delve into what the characters are feeling after each major event. Why are we JUST NOW learning about how Mei has the Samadhi Fire still and it's been inside her all along? During s4, there weren't any clues (that I saw) of her still having it, like no emerald swirls of fire, just electricity. So, the fandom, as a whole, thought she lost it, but noooo, it's been there all the time. Like, what??? That's a great way to make your audience feel stupid.

There's no -- like how did Red Son feel being locked in the scroll. What about everyone else. How are people feeling after Azure nearly destroyed the world. What about that aftermath? That part...that part that people largely think is filler is crucial to telling a story like this. We have to have moments where we sit with the characters and check in on them, see what they're thinking, how they're coping. We don't get that. We don't get enough of it. And it makes these characters feel flatter than they actually are.

They sneak in what they can in snippets and one-liners but that's not enough at this point. It's not enough when every season is going to be a world-ending catastrophe. We need to know these characters. And they've had 5 seasons to do it, and I still don't know critical things that I should know by now.

Also, worldbuilding? Can I get some, please? If the worldbuilding was good, we could go without a magic system! Think Lord of the Rings --- such WONDERFUL world building and history baked in, I don't have time to worry about the magic system. I've got so much information to go off of, I can suspend my disbelief because the world is so developed and magic can happen in a whimsical way.

But there isn't any...we travel around but WHERE ARE WE GOING?? How do-- can humans use magic? Can they see it? Have humans stumbled upon the celestial beasts ever? What bout the temples scattered about? NO one has? What if a human gets their hands on an artifact, what then? They fight in areas where humans are; is there no concern about being spotted? Sorry, but if anyone fucking saw a creature that looked ANYTHING LIKE Sun Wukong, he would be swarmed with pictures and selfies like.

And Nezha is just?? walking around??? WHAT??? I know in S3 they did this, too, but at least it was contained to those people on the train. this is a whole ass....city now.

I feel like people are just hearing me whine and complain about the magic system and they don't think it's a big deal. It's a HUGE DEAL. There is so much magic in this show!! There is so much magic that is just flung around by using seals and fancy circles. What do those circles mean??? Does everyone have their own special circle. Why does Macaque not have a circle, is it because he uses shadow magic?? Or chaos magic?? Why are they fucking with the magic now WHEN THEY HAVEN'T EVEN FULLY EXPLAINED WUKONG'S/MK'S MAGIC!!!!

Spoilers for the end of s5. But how. Does. MK. Know the spell. For Wukong's circlet. HOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW DOES HE KNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He saw Li Jing cast it maybe 3 times, but that's enough? How, MK? When did you study that magic? When did you learn how to use seals? When DID YOU LEARN HOW TO CLOUD SOMERSAULT??

How can I follow MK anymore when he's going places I can't pinpoint? I started off with him knowing nothing, now he picks up powers whenever he wants. If that's the case, just make him as strong as Wukong then!! Just do whatever. There's no power balance either. How strong is Macaque against MK? How strong is Mei against Macaque? I need a magic system or something so I can measure these values!!

They are never going to explain it to us. You can search through the series and look for clues, but that frustration is caused by the show not telling us crucial information. They want you to suspend your belief over and over and over again, but there comes a point of pure frustration where the audience is so disconnected from what's going on, because there's no rules. Characters can do whatever they want whenever they want.

Think about how that affects the plot. Think about how they came across these stones so easily. Think about how MK suddenly got the power to reach the top of that pagoda. Think about how they just so happen to stumble and find the White Lion and Azure Dragon like!! The plot is suffering! The characters have been suffering! And i'm suffering!!!

Sorry for my SUPER LONG RANT but i'm just so fed up.

[malsfefanfics]

doropetra

Apologies for the wait!

Dorothea let out a sigh as she sank into the water. The steam of the spring enveloped her completely, blanketing her in a gentle warmth. A much needed distraction after the disaster of that day's events.

It was just a simple luncheon. A simple meal to be shared between the Queen and some of the more high up political members of Brigid's court. But when she had been conversing with someone about fishing numbers, her companion had begun to laugh, nearly choking on his food and needing immediate rescue. Which then lead to a brief misunderstanding, as others saw what had happened and assumed an attempt on his life. Petra had her escorted out of the room while she tended to the issue.

And now, here she sat, trying to relax as she waited for Petra's return.

And so lost in her thoughts, that she didn't even notice Petra come to sit beside her.

"I am knowing that face," Petra said gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

"Oh, Petra! I didn't see you there." Dorothea moved over a bit, allowing her partner more space to stretch her legs in the water. "Nothing's wrong, really."

"Are you certain? Because you are being rather closing- er. Closed off? Is that the correct term?"

Dorothea grimaced. "Well...yes. I suppose so."

Petra reached out a hand. "Please, Tell me what troubles you. We cannot be fixing it unless you speak to me."

"It's nothing, really. I promise." Dorothea accepted her hand, allowing Petra to pull her close. "I just don't know what went wrong with today's meeting. Everyone got so angry, and they spoke so fast. I couldn't keep up with what was happening."

"Oh, I am seeing now. That is what is concerning you." Petra giggled softly, pressing a kiss to Dorothea's cheek. "You were simply mispronouncing some words, and it was read in a very different way."

Of course she did. "How exactly was it taken?" Well, she hoped, given Petra's expression.

Petra pulled her closer. "You were attempting to say something along the lines of 'I hope that the next catch is plentiful', yes?"

"Yes, that's right. He said the last few trips hadn't yielded very good quantities."

"Well, the way you are pronouncing the words made it sound like...something different."

"How?" Dorothea asked. "What exactly did he think I said?"

"Well, the words of which are needed to say that phrase are similar in spelling and pronouncing as, well..." Petra leaned in close and whispered into her ear.

Dorothea's face burned as she let out a squeal of embarrassment, sinking up to her neck into the water and turning away. "By the Goddess, what was I thinking?! No wonder he choked! Oh my goodness, I am so sorry."

Petra laughed as she sank into the water with her, wrapping her arms around Dorothea. "It is alright. Besides, it all went well in the end."

"Really?"

"Yes. Everyone, once calmed, found the misunderstanding to be quite thrilling. They are impressed with you being able to be bold that way with me."

Slowly, she began to relax, and leaned into Petra's embrace. "Well, you're just as bold, Petra. Still, I'm sorry for nearly causing him to choke to death over...that."

"It is fine, Dorothea," Petra assured. "The language of Brigid is hard for those not from here. But fret not. I will be continuing helping you with your skills in the language of Brigid. You need only keep helping me with my skills in the language of Fódlan."

"It might take a while for us to master them."

"Well, we are having all the time in the world, as they say."

Dorothea smiled. "That we do, Petra. That we do."

[rykno-gs]

So I'll kiss you on the Right (g/s)

A K/avetham sickfic

Small note: There won't be any snz spellings in this fic because those are HARD!!! (aHHHHHH) but there will still be descriptions of them, but still generally not that many

(insert word count here later)

--------

Thursday:

It started with a sore throat, nothing a little swallowing couldn't handle. It wasn't uncommon for Kaveh to wake up feeling a little dry. Poor sleeping posture that left his neck tilted sideways and mouth open, it was bound to happen some mornings.

He didn't think much of it, stealing a toast from Alhaitham's plate before scurrying out of the house. He had a meeting with a client just under an hour later, and would hate to be late. This guy in particular had been giving him quite a lot of issues, from wanting a fireplace that close to the front door such that it was quite literally opening into it, to winding stairs with no railings to speak of.

Now, Kaveh knew he was getting paid good money to blueprint this house, but boy were some people who were just pure rich with no brains to back their wealth up.

It didn't help that he could already feel a headache building up.

-

Kaveh was going to pop a vein.

"I told you! My blueprint, my rules!" His client crossed his leg, leaning against back against the chair before taking a long drag of their cigar. After a pause, smoke fills the space between them.

Across the table, Kaveh presses hands against his forehead, partly because he was in utter disbelief, and partly because the smoke was messing with him.

"Sir.. what you are proposing is a fire hazard.. we live in a rainforest."

His sore throat wasn't going away.

-

Alhaitham was already at home by the time Kaveh got back.

"This FUCKING client.."

"Welcome home Kaveh, want some dinner?"

The architect stopped in his tracks, looking over at the steaming food on the table.

"..I'm not hungry."

"Oh come on," Alhaitham snapped his book shut, placing it on the coffee table before standing up. A few steps to reach the other later, he wrapped his arms around Kaveh's waist. "I waited for you to come home."

Kaveh felt a warm breath upon the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Normally, he would've caved, would've turned back to devour Alhaitham in a deep kiss.

But tonight, just the mere thought of leaning that far back made Kaveh's head dizzy. Just the thought of having to swallow food through his aching throat made his appetite disappear.

"Not today Haitham, I'm going to bed."

-

Friday:

His throat felt like sandpaper, nothing a little water couldn't fix. Kaveh got out of bed, holding his head in his hands to make the world stop spinning.

Throwing a quick glance at his bedside alarm, Kaveh nearly got a heart attack. FUCK! He was supposed to meet the client in 10 minutes, and it took 15 just getting to the meeting point.

Wriggling out of his pajamas, Kaveh threw on yesterday's shirt and cape before grabbing Mehrak and bolting out of the door.

-

"I'm- ahem! -I'm sorry for the delay!" Kaveh frantically took a seat, his voice accidentally hitching an octave higher.

The client sighed, whispers of smoke surrounding him. "Please remember that I am paying you to be here."

"Yes, yes, of course of course!" Kaveh laughed nervously, opening his suitcase to remove the blueprints. "About yesterday's discussion.."

"Have you made the appropriate changes?"

"..Excuse me?"

"The fireplace."

"You can't seriously still want it that close to the door.. plus you're paying for a high-quality wooden doorframe."

"Enough." The client exhaled in Kaveh's direction, causing him to hide behind closed fingers yet again. "You're going to do up the blueprint for me by tomorrow, or I no longer require your services."

-

As usual, Alhaitham was already home by the time Kaveh got home.

"Dinner."

"Ahaha- sorry.. I'm not in the mood."

"Kaveh. You haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Ahaha.." HOW DID HE KNOW???

Defeated, Kaveh makes his way over to the dining table, collapsing onto the chair.

"Are you alright? You sound different."

"Ah.. is that so.." Kaveh mumbles. The client today cost him a lot, his voice was just one of those things.

"I'll feed you."

"H-Haitham!! There's really no need!

With that, Kaveh quickly took his spoon, eating the meal without a second glance at his roommate.

Alhaitham smirked, mission accomplished.

-

"Kaveh, come to my room tonight."

"I can't! I have to finish this blueprint for my client."

Alhaitham's eyebrows furrowed. "Come on, indulge me." He hugs Kaveh from behind, nuzzling into his neck.

"C-Can't!! Sorry!!"

So the Scribe stood alone in the hallway, dirty dishes on his left and no Kaveh on his right.

-

Saturday:

Kaveh had not slept. How could he, when he was up all night fixing every little detail of the blueprint to his client's demands?

He had taken a 40minute power nap though, so that was that.

Not that his clogged sinuses would let him rest in peace. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the annoyance of his sore throat had somehow made its way up his soft palette and into the confines of his nasal passages.

It was just his luck that all his tissues seemed to have ran out too.

-

"You're up early."

If not for his throat, Kaveh would've screamed.

"H-Haitham!!? I could say the same about you."

"I have to head to the office early. You?"

The duo stared at each other in silence, one seated and one standing.

There was no way in Hell Kaveh was telling Alhaitham what he came out for.

"W-Well we just happen to have very similar schedules!"

"Hoh-"

Eyeing Alhaitham's toast, Kaveh swiped one, wrapping it thickly with kitchen towels before leaving the house.

-

Kaveh sniffles against his wrist. He just- just needed to dash into an alley real quick to blow his nose.

He was thankful for the empty streets.

Leaning against a brick wall, Kaveh unwraps the toast slowly, pressing a tissue against his face. He blows productively, that was, until the congestion came back with full force. Inhaling, Kaveh used the wall as support as he tries again.

The effort leaves him gasping for air, head foggy. His left ear was blocked too. Just his luck.

-

"Finally." The client smiled at the new blueprint. "This is exactly what I want."

Kaveh didn't know if he should be relieved or terrified.

"Now, about those stairs I proposed-"

Terrified, he should be terrified.

-

The first sneeze came while he was walking home. It was late, Kaveh's voice was shot from arguing, and he was tired. There was no one around, but he still felt it necessary to stifle it between tightly pinched fingers.

Force of habit, he supposes.

Perhaps it was because of the relief that his next meeting with the client was pushed back to next week, or perhaps it really was this cold catching up to him, but Kaveh shivered harshly against the Sumeru wind.

Hold yourself together, home is just three steps away.

-

The moment the front door opens, Kaveh feels himself get enveloped with a pair of strong arms.

"H-Haitham??! You scared me!"

"You're shivering."

Kaveh felt him blush at the other pointing out the obvious.

"Have dinner with me." The warm breath breathed down his neck, making it hard for Kaveh to decline the offer. "I made your favourite."

"You did?" Kaveh whispered. He had been craving for something warm.

"Mm." Alhaitham hummed in reply, spinning Kaveh around gently to capture his lips in his. "I did."

Initial shock melted into bliss as Kaveh melted into the kiss. All his pent-up stress seemed to disappear for awhile before-

"Haitham wait- I'm sick, you can't-"

"Too late," Alhaitham mumbled, closing the distance between them once again. "Two days too late."

"You knew?!"

"You were trying to hide it?" He scoffed. "You suck."

"N-No you suck!"

"Mm, as you wish.." Alhaitham teased, dropping to his knees and fiddling with Kaveh's belt.

"H-HAItham!!" Kaveh blushed. Whether it was from this situation or his fever, he didn't know.

"Alright alright," the movements on his pants stopped. "Dinner first, then you're sleeping with me tonight."

Leaving little room for excuses, Kaveh was dragged to the table.

-

"Bless you."

"Ah, t-thanks.." Kaveh mumbled through the back of his fist. The steam from the shower they just had did wonders to clear his congestion, but at the price of-

He presses the back of his wrist harshly against his nose.

Before Kaveh could even begin hitching for air, he is startled out of it by the warm sensation of someone grabbing his arm.

Cracking open blurry eyes, he's met with Alhaitham's piercing stare. Alhaitham frowns, pulling Kaveh's arm away from his face before pressing their bodies together. He pushes Kaveh down onto the sheets below them, causing the other to fall onto the pillows with a soft "uff-!"

Alhaitham leans over him such that his hair was tickling Kaveh's collarbone. Tilting his head upwards, Alhaitham whispers in a low voice,

"Don't stifle. Let me here them, please."

Kaveh felt a chill run down his spine. "S-Sorry? I must have heard you wrongly," he stutters. "My ear is blocked on the left side.."

Alhaitham lets out a low laugh, collapsing on Kaveh's right side before pulling him in for a hug.

"Is that so?" He then lowers his voice to a volume barely above a whisper. "Can you hear me now?"

He was so close, Kaveh could feel Alhaitham's lips moving on his ear. Still, he remained silent, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

"I love you, Kaveh."

In response, Kaveh turns away, curling into himself, hands shooting up to cover his face in embarrassment.

"So you can hear me."

"O-Of course, you IDIOT!"

"Mm, that's good. So I'll kiss you on the Right." Kaveh felt Alhaitham yet again pulling him in, lips on his shoulder, tongue on his neck.

He shivers, but this time not from the cold.

-

Sunday:

Kaveh wakes up wrapped in blankets and Alhaitham. Last night was still foggy in his mind.

A second of peace passes, before Kaveh gasps desperately, snapping to the side as a fit of sneezes rush out of him. The morning sun streaming in from between the curtains luminated the fine droplets before they settled on white sheets.

"Good morning to you too.." Alhaitham nuzzled into his neck. "What a way to wake me up."

"I'm s-"

"Mm, don't apologise.." Alhaitham mumbled, leaning forward to kiss Kaveh on his cheek. "Turn around, want to look at you."

"But I'm a mess right now."

"Don't care." Alhaitham languidly climbs over Kaveh's body till they were once again facing each other. "Come on, don't be shy."

Alhaitham kisses him just above his lip.

"Mm, delicious."

-

The next time Kaveh wakes, Alhaitham had already left for work. He sits up, groggy from sleep.

There was a glass of fresh water on the bedside table along with a little box with words on it. Kaveh squints in the darkness, reaching for the box.

"4 in 1, 16 tablets. Suitable for colds, coughs, fevers, and blocked nose." Kaveh sighs. What is this?? A checklist for all his damn symptoms??

He flips the box around, pausing as his eyes dart over some words in ink.

"Get well soon Kaveh, I'll see you tonight."

Maybe this cold won't be that bad after all.

- end -

-------------

So, ig alhaitham has the kink here

tysm for reading, this fic was self indulgent af sorry :')

This was the inspiration for the stairs the client wanted btw, didn't know how to describe them :)

[ordonianhero]

Just writing this one shot.

Notes: i am going through some emotional and physical stuff due to grieving. It been a while since i last went through this and so i felt like writing something with Twilight and the whole chain. Sorry this is so sploppy, i may go through this later and fix it, or i may not. It is what it is for now.

Warning: some druging done to help with sleep or pain, mention of illness.

Genre: Comfort/grief

It started small. So small that even he didn’t register it and nobody seems to pick up that something was wrong. Well why would he, he had only wrote from nearly having his life ended by the every enemy they were chasing. So sure, healing spells only can do so much. Glad his farm was still good, but he was lacking strength that he use to have. No surprise. However, frustrating. His ancestor keeping close by, giving some suggestion. The Rancher sighed. They end up being joined by Captain, Wind, Hyrule and Legend, after helping the smith out. Time suggested The rancher go take is easy. Take it easy? We have things to do, we got to get this solved!

As they finally back on the road, Rancher had taken to riding on Epona, to avoid slowing the group down. Irritation and self hatred started festering now. His normally good nature, turned to being snippy and short. Negative. Then signing. Shutting up the rest of their walk as they traveled through new lands. Everyone was picking up on it. Captain did his best to get the young man to cackle the way the old man did. However he was met with eye that looked tired and empty. Wild even became subject to his lashes. The Old man had noticed, took note. However yet to step in. The would track for a good 7miles, before captain suggest they take a break. With that a quick lunch was made up. Usually some cheese, bread, dry meats and fruits. His appetite was nowhere to be found. Instead he just curled up beside his trusted mare and took a nap. Not long though, they needed to keep going and find shelter at some point.

A few days later they were met with a few monster camps, which they all took it down. It wasn’t pretty. Twilight paired with Champion and the two used their archery to back the team up. However he felt heart broken he couldn’t use his wolf form just yet, or fully wield his blade. That when they sat up camp, he just tossed his items on the ground and just stalked off. Sky offered to follow. Captain placed a hand on Sky’s shoulder and suggested to let the archer be to himself. At night, he suffered even worst, pains from the impact (or so he thought) of his injury acted up, causing him not to sleep well. How The old man felt helpless as to what to do. “ what i would give for a hot spring.” Groaned the Vet. Trying to be sympathetic in the morning. The rancher said nothing. Stares at his porridge. then dumped it back into the cooking pot, before going off to get Epona ready.

The body aches, the migraines, and now nausea kicking in. Food nor water could be down, it was like he became physically ill. This time the old man stepped in.He road on Epona with the Rancher. Holding him close and just telling the young man to rest his eyes. As they tricked on, being led by the Captain this time. They needed some form of village or at least safe place to stay. Which to their luck, wasn’t too far. Wild sensed they were in his era. Which thank hylia they were, cause all the hero’s were watching their friend slowly struggling. However, whenever someone tried to do anything, he reacted to them. Which wasn’t fair to them. This was his issue and here he was being useless and not himself.

So when they found a traveller’s cabin. Everyone cheered, or those who could. Time just whispered to the rancher, “we have shelter.” Everyone being so excited. The Eldest hero suggested rancher be first to get a hot soak in the tub, to at least ease some of what he was going through. Which resulted in rancher just feeling the pains wash away in the warm bath. Easing him into a peaceful sleep. Wild worked on making some pumpkin superb soup, hoping maybe Rancher would eat it. However that was dashed as he watched Time walk in carrying the sleeping hero to his bed roll. Hyrule came over with an elixir ment to help to have peaceful dreams. So everyone ate, while the rancher slept.

“So how long we going to let this go on?” Asked the concerned Vet.

“Should we search for a doctor?” Asked a worried sky.

There was a loud clap of thunder, followed by rain.

“I think this weather spoke for us. Let’s keep a fire going, heat up some hot water bottle to help. Damp rag. See this out.” Time spoke quietly, as he carded his hand through his descendent’s hair.

They all nodded.

Several days of the storm raged on. Keeping the chain to the cabin. Everyone kept quiet and each taking turns watching Rancher. Who mainly got up either to take a leak, nibble on small bits of food. It always was an improvement seeing him reading, till suddenly that became too much. Which four and Some times Time would take the book and reach it. Surprisingly it wasn’t about animal husbandry as most assume. No it was a book about a person, and ordinary person who suddenly goes on an adventure to find himself. Sounds a lot like them at one point.

But at night it was the whimpering, twitches. Tossing and turning. Wild wish he could help, but seeing his mentor so ill and so distressed to be much. That Hyrule had taken to comforting the pup’s filly. Time ended up often sleeping beside the Rancher to give him comfort. Gently humming a gentle tune, bubbling the rancher’s back till the rancher was out again. That repeated sever time in the night.

It wasn’t till the fourth night stuck in the cabin, did the dams break. Instead of the rancher’s usual grumbly self. He managed to taken down some egg on toast. The yoke being the right amount of runny. His belly savoring it. Wild smiled seeing the rancher just wolf it down. Time, chuckling. Rubbing his back and ushering him to slow down. Did the tear start rolling from his eyes. His shoulder begin the shake. The captain was quick to set his plate down and rush over and wrap him arms around the young man. Time had grabbed the rancher’s food before he dropped it and set it aside and Just gently rubbed his pup’s back.

“We got you rancher.”

Everyone else joined in and proceed to hug him.

“You’re grieving so much, trying so hard on yourself. We dont expect you to be up and taking on things like you use too. You will get there.” Sky spoke. His tone calming.

“Trust me, when i woke from the resurrection bath, i was like a new born foal. Stumbling everywhere.” Wild join in.

That got the rancher chuckling some because he was not far off.

“At least i didn’t wake up naked and afraid.” The rancher rasped.

The group let go as they all laughed.

That’s how that day went, with everyone engaging with him and encouraging him. When he got sad, they just be there with him, Comforting him. Till he was absolutely tucked out. Time got him to keep hydrated. Then looked after him as he slept. With the rain having stopped. Some of the hero’s went out scouting. However, from this day forth, a rule was made that emotions and pains like grieving is okay and it’s okay not being okay. That they are all in this together. Together they will end this.

Fin.

[changeling-droneco]

Having friends while having memory issues really is just,

I love you, I struggle to remember a time before you even though we’ve only known each other for a few years, I can’t remember your favorite color but I know what color you feel like, I have to check your pronouns half the time but I’m so so proud of you and how far you’ve come, I don’t remember your ocs names but I know this one had red hair and I liked them, i love you, I don’t know when your birthday is, I have notes on your interests and facts about you and I’m worried I seek creepy, I keep forgetting where you live and for some reason I keep thinking it’s Sweden even though you’re definitely not from sweden, I love you, i keep forgetting how to spell your name, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you, i have to constantly read chat logs to remember small facts about you, I can’t imagine a time where I don’t love you, we haven’t talked in years and all I remember about you is that I love you even if I couldn’t pick you out from a picture, I love you, I’m telling you the same story for the fifth time but you don’t mind and I love you, I’m scared I’ll forget you, I love you, I know even if I do I’ll always remember that I love you, I don’t remember your favorite book but I know you like to rant about it so I’ll listen to you even if I don’t remember anything from last time, I’m sorry I keep forgetting things we have planned, I love you, you gave me the best moments of my life and even if I’ve forgotten them I know they happened and that’s close enough to remembering them for me, I forget what you’re allergic to but I’d never give you something without asking, I forgot I made notes about you and rereading them I feel like I can see you clearly again for a few seconds, I love you, I’m sorry we started something you loved and I forgot about it until months since we last did it, all I can remember at this moment is how much I love you even when I can’t remember a single fact else, I’m sorry I failed to keep in contact how I want to because I only remember what I wanted to say at 2 am, I’m sorry for the conversations that stalled out because I couldn’t claw past the fog in my head, thank you for being there, I love you, sometimes you’re hazy and out of focus but I love you I love you and if I could bring the picture of you into focus I could but I can’t and I love you, I don’t want to forget but I will but I love you and I’ll reread the things over and over so even I forget them I’ll remember your love too. I wish I knew how to fix myself, but I love you, and I’ll always be able to remember at the very least that just as I love you, you love me too