#so the fact that there’s a couple hundred of you now is wild

[vantabats]

There’s 300 of you now who have followed me for my stupid dragons

[vampiredaisiesss]

❝ all a ghost can do

is haunt ❞

— part two

★ dofp! logan howlett x younger! reader

tags & warnings - age gap (reader is in her 20's), the brutal sting of jealousy, light angst, a sweaty logan in his slutty white vest, reader being called a kid, descriptive physical fighting, mentions of being touch starved, kissing :)

word count - 2.3k

part one

You wake up to an empty bed.

The indent in the mattress still holds Logan’s shape, sheets carrying the lingering musk of his skin. Real. It was real. A smile tugs at your lips as you press your face into his pillow, inhaling deeply. Your heart feels too big for your chest, giddy and terrified all at once.

Logan—the Logan whose rare smiles have been making your stomach flip for longer than you'd care to admit—fell asleep in your arms last night.

Your fingers drift over the empty space where his body should be, a tendril of anxiety curling in your gut.

You’re not offended by his absence. Of course, he left. He's Logan. He probably has a hundred reasons why this was a mistake— the age difference, your positions at the school, all the complications it would bring.

Above all, he is still your training instructor.

Training. Classes. School.

Fuck!

The clock catches your eye and panic shoots through you. "Shit!" You're late. Very late.

Your telekinesis responds to your distress before conscious thought kicks in. Clothes float from drawers as you brush your teeth, straight to your waiting hand. You catch your reflection as you rush around – cheeks flushed, hair wild, eyes twinkling both with giddiness and anxiety.

Class is mostly uneventful; You find your mind constantly drifting to the training session ahead. The usual thrill of teaching young minds political theories is dulled by the alternating waves of anticipation rolling through your stomach. Each time you imagine seeing Logan, your heart leaps a little in your chest.

The gym is buzzing with activity when you arrive. Rogue catches your eye from her position on the treadmill, her knowing smile making your cheeks warm.

"Hey," she calls out, wiping her brow. "Logan's in the locker room." The wink she adds makes your heart stutter.

Marie has been teasing you about your little crush on "Professor" Logan for a while now. Despite the fact that you’re only a couple years older than her, she seems too determined that Logan’s got it for you. In solitude, you find yourself wondering if he does, even a little bit.

Your feet carry you toward the locker room, greeting students along the way with what you hope passes as a normal smile. Then you hear it—his voice, low and rough, uttering a name that stops you cold: "Jean..."

The world narrows down to the gap in the double doors. Through it, you spot Logan's broad back, his muscles rippling beneath his tank top. Those arms, the same ones that infiltrate your mind so often, are now wrapped around Jean Grey's frame. Her fingers thread through his hair—oh for fuck's sake, his hair—and white-hot jealousy floods your system.

The pain is immediate, like someone's reached into your chest and squeezed. Hot tears prick at your eyes as your mind cruelly reframes every moment from last night. Of course he'd go to Jean. Brilliant, beautiful, mature Jean. Not some young teacher who he probably sees as nothing more than a student who graduated to a friend, someone who needs protecting rather than someone to lean on as a real partner.

What are you to him? A student? A friend? Some kid he needs to protect? 

No.

You refuse to cry here. Swallowing past the knot in your throat, you force yourself to speak, proud when your voice comes out steady. "Logan, are you inside?"

"Uh, yes." His disorientation is right there. "Be outside in a min."

In the adjacent room, you trade your original outfit for a blank tank and track pants. When you arrive back inside the gym, you notice he's wearing a white tank and loose running pants, as opposed to his usual jeans.

It is a good look for him. Really good. Stop looking, you immediately chide yourself.

Logan demonstrates several maneuvers, pointing out where to move and how to strike Usually, he makes you spar with someone else. Someone safe who won't knock your teeth out. But today, you have a different proposition for him.

“Why don't you be the opponent today, professor?"  your words make several students' heads turn. "That way, I'll be learning from the best."

Logan frowns. "That's not happening." He states firmly.

“Why not? Afraid I’ll disappoint?”

“What? No.” He jaw works as he tries to figure out the look on your face. What has gotten into you today? When he speaks again, his voice is lower, meant just for you. "You don't have anything to prove here. You can get hurt."

"I'll heal." The words – his words – hit their mark, and the crease between his brows deepens.

You watch the muscle in his jaw tick as he weighs his options. Behind him, you notice that your little argument has drawn a crowd. Jean stands at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, watching with that penetrating gaze that makes you feel impossibly young.

"Fine," Logan rolls his shoulders, and you see the moment he shifts into instructor mode. "But we do this by my rules. First sign of—"

"Real fight, Logan." You drop into a ready stance. "Stop treating me like I'll break."

Half heartedly, Logan mirrors your stance. "Let me know if it gets too much, kid."

The word 'kid' lands exactly as intended, stoking the fire in your chest. You bare your teeth in what might be a smile. "We'll see about that."

The mat creaks under your feet as you square off against Logan. His stance is relaxed, still dismissive—feet shoulder-width apart, hands loose at his sides. You recognize the careful way he's holding himself back.

Something inside you snaps.

You launch forward, aiming high with a strike that leaves you exposed. It is rookie mistake he's warned you about countless times. His response is immediate. One hand catches your wrist while the other sweeps your legs out from under you. The mat slams against your back, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh exhale.

"Sloppy," he growls, already backing away to give you space. "You're better than that."

You roll to your feet, ignoring the protest of your muscles. Your eyes track his movement—the subtle shift of weight from one foot to another, the almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders. He's taught you to read these signs, to anticipate your opponent's next move. Now you'll show him how well you've learned.

You feint with your elbow, a move telegraphed enough to make him think you're still fighting angry, still not thinking your moves through. He takes the bait, backing up slightly to avoid the strike. The space opens up exactly as you planned, and you pivot on your back foot, channeling your momentum into a roundhouse kick that catches him across the jaw.

The impact reverberates up your leg, making you groan. Logan's head snaps to the side, and for a moment, the gym falls silent. When he looks back at you, there's something new in his expression. Surprise, yes, but also pride, and something darker.

"Too much?" You can't help the cockiness in your voice, even as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Logan doesn't answer.

Instead, he lunges forward with frightening speed, hands reaching for your waist. You twist away, driving your elbow into his back as he passes. The grunt he releases is deeply satisfying, even though you know he's still holding back. One wrong move with his adamantium-laced bones could shatter yours.

"What's gotten into you today?" he demands, circling you now with predatory focus.

You ignore the question, analyzing his gait for openings. Your next attack is ambitious – trying to use his momentum against him, to flip him over your hip. It's a move that might work on someone your size, but Logan is pure muscle, immovable as a mountain.

Instead of him going down, you find yourself stumbling, barely catching yourself before face-planting on the mat.

His laugh ignites something primal in your chest. You spring up, pushing past your body's complaints, and strike him across the face. It's not a combat move. It's a slap, sharp and personal, the sound cracking through the air like a gunshot. His head turns toward Jean, and the sight of his profile facing her direction reignites your fury.

You don't think. You just move, launching yourself at his exposed back. But Logan's instincts are honed by decades of combat. He spins with impossible speed, catching you mid-air. The world tilts and blurs, and then you're on your back again, but this time he follows you down. His body pins you to the mat, hands gripping your wrists beside your head, knee pressed between your thighs to immobilize you.

The position brings every point of contact between your bodies into sharp focus. The press of his chest against yours, both your breaths intermingling. The callused warmth of his palms around your wrists. The solid weight of his thigh between your legs. 

Anger and desire war in your veins, making it impossible to think clearly.

"Enough! What's this about?" His voice rasps low, meant only for you. This close, you can see the flecks of amber in his hazel eyes, the same eyes that often soften when they fall upon you.

"You wanted me to be able to defend myself," Your voice comes out breathier than intended, betraying the effect his proximity has on you. "I was just being a good student."

You attempt to rise, to escape the intensity of his gaze, but his grip tightens fractionally. The knee between your legs shifts, pressing higher, and suddenly the pretense of combat feels paper-thin. The gym's watching crowd, led by Jean, seems to disperse, offering you some space to work out your… well, whatever it is you two needed to work out.

"This isn’t about proving yourself in combat. You think I’m an idiot?" His eyes search yours, seeing too much. "Is it about this morning?"

The reminder of yesterday stings fresh. "Don't think too highly of yourself." The words come out sharp. "Why should I expect you to stay? You're not my boyfriend."

"Hey, lose the tone!" The command in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and when you try to squirm away again, his knee presses more firmly between your thighs, holding you open beneath him.

Something breaks inside you then. Maybe it's the warmth of his body egging you on, crystallizing all your feelings into a single moment of reckless courage. Your lips seek his, catching him mid-word. For one glorious second, he responds, his mouth moving against yours with the same hunger that consumes you both in your daydreams.

Then he pulls back, though not far. "Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart," His breath fans across your lips. "Don’t do that."

You feel the tears building, blurring your vision, and hate how easily he can unmake you.

His expression softens at the sight. “Kid..."

"I'm not a kid!" The words burst out with a sniffle.

"No, you're not," he agrees, his voice gentling. "I don't mean it literally, you know."

"I know," your voice catches. "I just wish you'd stop treating me like one."

"I'm over 200 years old, bub."

"You're quite well preserved for a mummy."

His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest into yours. One hand releases your wrist to brush away a tear. "What is it about, really?"

"I saw you with Jean." You admit finally. A sigh leaves him, but you press on. "And I understand, she's older, wiser, more beautiful—"

"You're wise and beautiful,” Logan’s thumb traces your bottom lip, silencing you. "You want to know what happened in that locker room? Jean was telling me to stop being an idiot. To stop running from this, from us. I couldn't kiss her if I wanted to. Been that way for a while now. There's only one person I want, and she just tried to kick my ass in front of the whole damn school."

 "Logan..."  His name fills your lungs like the first real breath after drowning.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me," you whisper, arching up slightly. His hold on your wrists loosens, prompting you to break free and slip your hands into his locks. Desperately, you plead. "I want you to kiss me."

The moment his lips meet yours, your whole world goes quiet. It's soft—so much softer than you'd imagined the Wolverine could be. Your heart feels too big for your chest, like it might burst from finally having something you've wanted for so long. 

Logan cradles your face like you're something precious. His calloused fingers find yours against the mat, threading them together, and that simple touch sends warmth flooding through your whole body.

Your mind flashes to all those times you've watched him from afar, wondering if he'd ever look at you the way he's looking at you right now. Not as a student, not as someone who needs protecting, but as someone who understands his darkness and wants him anyway. 

It is a feeling capable of curing the ache of starvation that one feels when they've begged for morsels their entire life. And God knows you both have.

"For God's sake, get a room already!" Bobby's exasperated voice cuts through the moment, followed by Rogue's laugh.

Logan's grin against your mouth is pure sin. "What do you say, bub'? Wanna continue this somewhere more private?"

"Thought you'd never ask, Professor."

★

author's note - i might or might not be thinking of releasing a part three by next weekend if this one gains traction. i just love these two soooo muchhh AHHHHH.

[witherby]

HI HI. SAME ANON :33anon here!!!

omg???? jfc christ? that was so good im shaking my cup for more 😭 i think the fact my ask is being used as a power shower is silly... i love it keep up the good work!

(side note ive done metamorphosis may i be 🎆anon.... i will be yapping at you on a later date o7)

Welcome to the club 🎆 I am smooching ur cheek

Hahaha...wouldn't it be so silly....if I used your ask again.....to post the second part hahahaha.....isn't that the silliest idea hahahaha.........

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 2 of 2)

Masterlist is Here!

"Let me make sure I've got this straight."

Everyone stiffens in their seats. When Batman says things like that, it means he is very, very close to yelling. Batman never yells unless his patience has reached its limit, his emotional threshold has bubbled over, or he hasn't slept in over six consecutive days. Given his usual activities, it could very well be a combination of the three, and the current situation is not helping.

"You —" he points a gauntleted finger at Manhunter, "— realized my child was showing signs of developing their powers six weeks ago, and told no one."

He turns to Superman and Diana next, talking through clenched teeth.

"And then you two, today, realized the same thing, indirectly told them they would no longer have a place in my home, and then they vanished under your cape."

He places his hands on the meeting table. Inhales. Exhales.

"No one attempted to reach out and express their concerns to me, the father, in either incident."

He slams his fists on the table. The wood splinters under the impact. Everyone flinches with it.

"AND NOW MY CHILD IS MISSING! DID I FORGET ANYTHING? DID I LEAVE ANYTHING OUT!?"

The silence afterwards is deafening. Bruce yanks his cowl off and slams it to the floor, running his hands through his hair.

"The Watchtower is under lockdown until further notice. We do not leave until either I find my kid, or I figure out how to track them down."

"Batman," the Flash chimes in, "I feel for you. This is a bad situation, but we can't all stay here; I have to —"

Bruce rounds the table and crowds Barry into his seat with near-inhuman speed. His eyes are wide and wild and his teeth are bared.

"We do not leave until I find them."

The lights briefly turn red and an automated voice comes over the intercom, alerting them that lockdown protocols have initiated. The heroes watch as blast shields cover the windows and the Zeta tubes deactivate, effectively blocking their only ways out.

Green Lantern re-enters the room from the observation deck with a determined expression.

"Checked the monitors and surrounding galaxy. Skies are clear, and earth-side we should be fine for at least a couple hours, so I went ahead and triggered the protocol."

"Hal!" Barry protests. "C'mon, I'm gonna be late to work again! It's not as easy for some of us to maintain our civilian covers, you know!"

"Well, then it sounds like we gotta find our missing Mouse fast."

Bruce presses a button on his gauntlet and pulls a small ball out of it, rolling it to the center of the table. A hologram screen pops up and shows a picture of you sitting in Tim's lap and enthusiastically looking at something on his computer with him. To the right of the image, a wall of text begins to appear, detailing observations made about your growth, health, and development of your powers.

"You already knew," Diana mutters, like the words have been punched out of her. Clark holds his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell us then, huh?" Oliver frowns. "Didn't think we could benefit from that information?"

"My child, my discretion," Bruce hisses. That shuts Ollie right back up. "This is everything I've been able to passively observe about their ability. They can latch onto any shadows in their immediate vicinity, up to a range of approximately one hundred feet, and until now has only used them for pathfinding, like solving puzzles or looking for small objects. What just happened today with Superman's cape is the first discovered instance of them being able to traverse into darkness itself."

"That's why the Watchtower is locked down," J'onn realizes. "If they can only travel so far with the shadows, chances are high that they're still in here."

"Yes."

"How do we pull them out if we find them?" Arthur speaks up, arms crossed. "Last I checked, no one else has shadow powers."

"Do what you can without risking injury to them or yourselves. If you can talk them out, that will be the ideal tactic. Any more questions?" Bruce waits a few seconds for anyone to speak up, then dismisses the holo-screen and rises to his full height. "Then everyone fan out, cast some shadows, and get to work."

--

Arthur is having no luck. He checks the furniture that was already casting shadows, like tables and beds and appliances, to no avail. Calling to you and feeling around those dark spaces isn't gonna get him anywhere.

Clark and Diana had picked up his cape and hunkered down under the fabric, gingerly asking you to please come out, Uncle Clark and Auntie Di are very sorry they implied what they did, they never meant to scare you, please please please come back.

Barry is zipping around the whole tower, checking high spaces and low, calling for you with a mixture of urgency and concern.

Ollie uses his body to cast a shadow under the fluorescent lighting and Dinah crouches in the space of it, patting the ground gently and urging you to appear. She insists everyone is worried and looking for you because they want you to be safe.

Bruce is frantic. He's visually very composed, but Hal can see the tremble in his hands as he slowly and methodically checks every single shadow he can find or create for signs of you.

"Bruce," Hal mutters, watching him check his cape for the fifteenth time in just as many minutes. "Bruce, sit down and breathe for a bit."

"Don't mention breathing," Bruce snaps. "This is unprecedented. I'm working with zero useful information and three of my teammates contributed to this situation in the first place. Can they just exist in darkness forever, or is there a limit before they get spit back out? Can they even get back out? Is there oxygen wherever they are? Are they safe or in any kind of distress? If you don't have answers to these questions or haven't found them yet, I don't want you talking to me."

He turns to check his cape again and almost runs right into J'onn.

"There was a shadow moving in the training room," he noted. "When I approached to investigate, it melted away. I found it important to tell you that Flittermouse seems to be active and uninjured judging by the ease in which that shadow moved."

The Manhunter leaves them again, phasing through the walls to continue searching for you. Bruce pulls his gloves off and rubs his face, sighing.

"Hal."

"I forgive you," comes the immediate reply. Hal places a hand on Bruce's back and offers him a thin smile. "You're a dad who's scared for your four-year-old kid. I think you're entitled to a little bit of bitchiness."

Bruce hums.

"Just a little bit, though. Like fifteen percent more bitch than your baseline. Which is to say, if you talk to me like that again I'm going to make a giant cartoon hammer and beat you to death with it."

Both men hear you giggle. Their heads whip around in the direction of the sound, and find a small, child-shaped shadow moulded into the corner. It's a strange thing, to look at a shadow with no source. It would be frightening if it wasn't you.

"Mouse?" Bruce immediately calls, stepping towards you. The giggling stops and the shadow shrinks. He crouches down, palms extended. "No no no! Don't go, don't go anywhere, please. Can I talk to you?"

You don't respond. Bruce isn't entirely sure if you can, in your current form. You haven't run away yet, however, so he inches just a bit closer.

"I'm...there's...." He stops and starts, searching for the best words to use. "Mouse, there was a misunderstanding. No one is making you leave. I'm not going to give you up or send you away, I promise."

"...m e t a h u m a n..." you mutter. Both Bruce and Hal shiver. It sounds like darkness itself whispering directly into their ears, faint and echoing and all-encompassing.

"Yes, that's what people with skills like yours are called," he confirms.

Your shadow doesn't move for a while. Bruce shuffles closer, palms extended, and is about to ask you to come out, but then your entire form wobbles and starts shrinking even more.

"...n o m e t a s i n G o t h a m..." you say, and the sadness in your voice is so potent Hal has to brace himself against the wall.

"No!" Bruce says, pressing his palm against the wall just a second too late. You dissolve and disappear. "That's not — ffffffuck."

He presses his forehead to the wall and closes his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to avoid screaming. It takes a while.

"They're not going to talk to me," he eventually says. "They're scared of me, of that damned rule I —"

He cuts himself off and rubs a hand down his face.

"You have to do it."

"Me? Specifically?" Hal asks.

"You're their favorite uncle." Bruce pushes himself off the floor and rests his hand on Hal's forearm. "They adore you. They ask when you're going to visit Gotham again all the time. If anybody's gonna get them to understand that they're not in any trouble or danger of losing their family because of something I did, it's gonna be you."

"Whoa. No pressure," Hal says. He knows it's true though — you absolutely adore Hal, and the feeling is mutual. You feel almost like his own kid. He's just as scared as Bruce is about your current situation. "Okay...alright, I got this. Listen, tell the others that Mouse probably isn't gonna come out for 'em. Go hang out in the meeting room and gimme an hour alone. I'll bring them back."

Bruce nods, but he seems hesitant to leave the part of the hall where they spotted your shadow. Hal gives him a small nudge and he eventually turns away, his boots clocking softly against the floor.

Hal inhales slowly, holds it, then exhales for a count of ten.

He's got this.

--

He does not have this. Hal walked into an empty corridor and flicked all the lights off, choosing to sit in the darkness and try calling out to you for almost thirty minutes. There's been no luck.

He sighs and uses his ring to construct a small bear, illuminating the immediate space around him in green, and makes it walk around.

"Y'know you used to love playing with my constructs," he murmurs. "We had this game I made up, where you would chase after whatever toy I made as fast as you could and try to catch it. I let you win a lot."

He makes a construct of you as a much smaller infant, not yet able to walk, crawling eagerly after the bear.

"You'd grab the little toy and hug it tight, and then come show me you got it. And I'd scoop you up and give you a cookie before we did it all again. We had to really tone down the cookie part because you got sick one time. Bruce made me sleep on the floor for a week. Not even one of the million couches in the manor. The floor. It was the worst."

He hears the surrounding darkness around him giggle. Hal leans against the wall and heaves a large, relieved sigh.

"Hey, kid," he says softly. "S'good to hear you."

You don't respond. He tries not to feel discouraged, instead seizing the opportunity presented.

"I'm not gonna ask you to come out, but if you don't mind...I'm kinda lonely. D'you think we could play that game again?"

Hal vanishes the constructs and makes a new one — a small, stuffed bat toy. He makes it flap its little wings and flop in circles.

"Think you can catch it? This one's a bit feisty."

Nothing happens for a few seconds. Hal feels himself growing nervous, and he's about to abandon the idea and suggest something else, but then the bat just vanishes. The construct is sucked up into the shadows, like darkness itself came up and hugged it into the void. A knot in his chest comes undone.

"That," he says, "was awesome. Okay, here's another one. Even feistier than the last."

This goes on for a while. Hal makes something for you to chase, you emerge from the dark just long enough to pull it in with you, and the process is rinse and repeat. Eventually, though, you come out of the shadows more and more, staying out of it longer and longer to chase around the conjured toys, until you're just tossing them into the shadows with gleeful little cheers.

"Got it!" You cry, jumping up to reach another one, this time shaped like an owl. You're panting from exertion and grinning widely at Hal, just standing and hugging it to your chest. "I win?"

"You win again," Hal agrees, expression painfully fond. He adores you wholeheartedly. "C'mere and get a victory hug, kid. Don't have any cookies on me, but we'll do a raincheck on that."

You go to him easily, practically collapsing in his lap, and rest your head against his chest while you idly pet the glowing owl toy. The area is bathed in dim green, enough to see each other without strain but still casting more than enough shadows for you to hide in again if you wanted.

"Fantastic job," Hal murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You nuzzle into his chest even more, hiding your face. "We definitely have to do that again some time. Don't you think?"

You start to nod, but the motion is jerky. You hesitate, then shrug, hugging the toy tighter.

"Oh, Mousey," he says, running his fingers through your hair. "You didn't think your powers would make Uncle Hal stop wanting to play with you, did ya?"

You slowly nod again, curling in on yourself.

"Well, that's just plain wrong. I love you, honey. Everybody loves you, y'know? You're smart, and adorable, and soooo much fun to be around," Hal insists, giving you a quick squeeze. Your mouth twitches like you're trying not to smile. "And it's gonna be way more fun now that you have cool shadow powers! Hide and seek might get a little challenging, but we'll make it work."

"...and Daddy?" You mutter. "Will he...want to play, too?"

"I know Daddy would love to play any game you wanted," Hal swore. "Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. And you know what else?"

"What?" You ask, lifting your head. You look at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows, hanging onto his every word.

"Sometimes Daddy makes mistakes. Like creating dumb rules he shoulda broke years ago."

You look away, snuggling further into Hal.

"What if...Daddy don't wanna break the rule?" You whisper.

Hal curls around you almost protectively, kissing your head again.

"Then he's a big, smelly dummy, and I'll take care of you instead," he promises. "You can live at my house, and I'll still bring you to the Watchtower to hang out with everyone and play games, and maybe, if you're extra good, I'll take you on vacation in outer space. I'll show you things you've never seen, like planets with four moons, and people as tall as skyscrapers, and space food that turns your hair all different colors. It'll explode your tiny head!"

"Nooo!" You giggle, grinning. "I don't want a exploded head!"

"Hmm...you drive a hard bargain kid," Hal says. "Okay, I won't give you explodey-head food. But only because you said so."

He lets you get your laughter out, then gently pats your back to regain your attention.

"I know you're very scared," he says, "but I promise this doesn't change the fact that you are so, so incredibly loved. I bet if you gave the others a chance, they'd be more than willing to prove it. Especially your dad."

You tighten your grip on the owl in your arms, bottom lip wobbling for a moment.

"Could you give him a chance, Mouse?" Hal asks. "If you don't want to, that's fine. We can work an arrangement out and always try again a different day. But I know he would be really, really excited to see you again."

You stare at Hal, face tight in contemplation. He waits patiently, continuing to rub small circles in your back.

His patience is rewarded when you bury your face in his chest again, nodding.

"Want daddy," you whisper. Hal settles you more securely in his arms and immediately rises to his feet, relishing the burst of satisfaction and relief in his chest.

He takes you back into the meeting room. Bruce immediately stands up from the table when he spots you curled up in Hal's embrace, hands twitching like he wants to hold you himself.

He moves with all the carefulness of someone approaching a wild animal. His face is uncharacteristically open, broadcasting his worry for you and relief that you're unharmed.

"Hi, sweet pea," Bruce mutters, silk-soft, and that's all it takes to make you start sobbing and reach for him. Your father doesn't hesitate, sweeping you up and giving assurance after assurance that you are just as treasured and loved as you've always been, that he is so happy to be your dad, that you belong in Gotham and that will never change no matter what.

The lockdown gets lifted from the Watchtower. Several heroes, after conveying their relief and gratitude over your safety, take their leave. Diana and Clark stay behind to apologize profusely, both to you and Bruce, for implying that you would ever be unwelcome in your own home just for being different. It's easy for you to forgive them, but Bruce is grinding his jaw a bit, so they excuse themselves for the night and take their leave.

"Well." Hal claps his hands together and yawns. "I'm ready for a drink and a bed. What do we say we hit the road, huh? C'mon, B, let's get Flittermouse back home. I've hit my daily quota for adventure."

Bruce nods, walking with you back to the Zeta tubes. You've already nodded off in his arms, drained from your stressful day.

"Thank you, Hal," he says, preparing to warp home. "Come by after the kids are in bed. Let me repay you properly."

"Y'know, normally I'd be all over that," Hal smirks, "but I'm seriously beat. Can I cash my reward in tomorrow?"

Bruce gives him a small smile. "Whenever you want. Come by anyway, if you like. We don't have to do anything."

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you later, then." Hal crosses his arms and relaxes against the corridor wall, smiling down at your dozing form. "You take care. Both of you."

Bruce thanks him again, disappearing in a flash of light. When Hal drops by later that evening, he finds his boyfriend asleep with you in his arms, clinging to his shirt and drooling on his chest as you coast peacefully in Dreamland.

Before joining the cuddle pile, he finds that sitting on the nightstand, written in a combination of pen and crayon, is a contract holding both yours and Bruce's signatures:

The rule against Metahumans in Gotham is hereby null and void forever and ever.

Signed by: Daddy & Mousey

[fruithoughts]

  In this world there are a couple of absolute truths; the sun will explode someday, the water is wet, capitalism is a demon and of course, Yoon Jeonghan is madly in love with his best friend.

     CW: agegap(he’s 29 and she’s 23, they met when she was 19 and he was 25), bigdick!Jeonghan, fem!reader, friends to lovers, he’s so condescending but in the sweetest way?? what an asshole omg, one reference to him being a smoker, idiots in love, a lil bit of dom!jeonghan.

It's a classic, from the very first time they met, the bastard already knew he was going to end up in bed with the pretty girl with the coffee colored eyes, she retorted his unfunny jokes even when her red cheeks gave away that she was embarrassed, played along all of his little games just to give him hope that this time she had fallen into the hands of the big bad wolf, she was made just for him.

The special treatment Jeonghan provided her didn't sneak under anyone's noses, it was obvious, the only person other than himself that he allows to win during table games, just one look at him with that curious puppy face is enough to make him melt whole, he’s that weak. The only person he listens to when she tells him to stop cheating in games, that guy would give all of  the stars in the universe to his girl, would fix the ozone layer in 3 business days max if she complained about global warming today.

  "I could live like this" oh, that persisting little thought, always wandering in the man's head while he is around his friend, just waiting for the right moment to invade his frontal lobe and consequently force his heart into beating fast like crazy by making him think about the calm and happy life he could have alongside his love.

    The dreamer thinks and thinks while waiting for his girl to finish brushing her teeth, a silly smile stamped on his rascal face as he stares at the ceiling of her room, ironically, they were watching Friends in her bed, as always; against the will of his girl who insisted that the series was silly and he only liked it because he was old.

  As strange as it can sound, they had already slept in the same bed hundreds of times, most of those times due to Hannie’s habit of refusing not to take her with him everywhere he went, which more than often left them with only one hotel room to share, these nights were the most special, nothing sexual happened, which made them even more intimate.

The pointless conversations before bed, faces a few inches away as they discuss each and every scenario that his favorite girl proposes, "What name would you give your child? What if it was a girl?", "If the world ended and only the two of us were left, where would we go? Would you protect me?" She was always more touchy with him when she was tired, he loved every second of it. They cuddled until the princess fell asleep, her warm breath on his neck drove him wild, he wanted to fill her face with kisses, but he never had the courage, always waiting for the right time.

Now that once again he found himself in his friend's bed, just a month or so before his military service called for him, he wondered if he let the right time pass right by him at some point in the last 4 years, it was his biggest fear. What if the fact that he had hookups here and there over the years made her think he had no interest in her? What if the fact that he kept posting stories and photos with her made her come to the conclusion that he doesn't have romantic feelings for her because he wouldn't risk showing his possible future girlfriend to fans, and only posts things with her exactly because they’re completely platonic? 

With the date of the inevitable farewell between the lovebirds approaching, something had changed, Jeonghan couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was, but things were different. His girl always loved him(just not in the way he desired so much), he always knew that, she, who was always closed off with others; had no problem holding his hand under the blanket while watching movies or laying her head on his shoulder during car trips while Seungcheol screamed at Dokyeom because he took the wrong turn again, these moments felt like little secrets, his pretty flower laughing softly at the car fights while the bastard uses their proximity to draw invisible shapes of hearts and dicks on her bare thigh until he gets his hand slapped away when she inevitably realizes what he was drawing, in they’re little world in the back seat, no one would ever know.

Well, never? Maybe it was the wrong word, especially now that everything has changed. For some reason, his friend suddenly started offering him 3 times the attention he was used to receiving from her, holding his arm while waiting in line at the grocery store, hugging his waist and hiding her face behind his back while waiting for the uber, deliberately holding his hand as they strolled through some parking lot, suddenly her behavior made it obvious to anyone with eyes to see that they were in a romantic relationship, Jeonghan was in heaven.

He wanted to fantasize, to dream, to believe that this change was due to the fact that now that he's going away, she finally realized that she loves him, that she's always loved him and that they should be together, but part of him just can’t get over the possibility that she might have just gotten extra comfortable now that she realized he's going soon, and decided to give him all the attention in the world because she’ll miss his friend.

Things were not going according to plan and it made him nervous, restless... What was the plan? To confess as soon as he was discharged from military service, his group would be on a semi-hiatus for at least two more years after his return due to the younger ones serving, it was the perfect time to develop their relationship, he was sure they would get married early too, after all, for how long do you date after being extremely close for 4 whole years? He knows his princess like the back of his hand and she has him around her little finger, she knows everything, his whole life, all of his habits, allergies, fears and almost all his greatest desires. 

 — Stop thinking about other things while I'm here —  His girl's voice as she enters the room takes Jeonghan out of his train of thoughts, staring at her until she reaches the bed and crawls over to him to go cuddle again. 

— Am I only allowed to think about you? —  he asks, arching one of his eyebrows as soon as he has her in his arms, lying on top of him.  — When you're at my house, yes. —  She replies grumpily and Jeonghan laughs when he feels his torso being squeezed closer to her, draping one arm over his baby’s back, also squeezing her closer before depositing a little kiss on the top of her head, there's nothing this man wouldn't give to have this right here every day.

The conversation comes and goes as usual, they talk about life dramas and gossips from their respective groups of friends, some complaints about annoying and inconvenient people, just as inconvenient as...

— And that little guy you were hooking up with? Did you get tired of him already? — Jeonghan asks as if he hasn't spent the last two weeks brooding with jealousy, just the possibility of that idiot having touched his girl makes him want to rip off his own face with his bare hands. He’s not possessive at all, clearly.

  She huffs before replying — And that makeup artist you were clinging to? How is she? — the tone of the question tone made Jeonghan roll his eyes, he only had a little affair with that woman, a few kisses for a week and they slept together once, no big deal, and obviously it didn't mean anything to him, just like all his hookups never did. The man's distant behavior towards the people he fucked with was always a reason for a fights between them and most of the time it was the reason for the "breakup" of said hookup status, but why would he try to feel anything for any of his fuck buddies when his true love was just around the corner? He was just paving the way.

  — You know it was nothing, it never is — the man feels her little eyes burning through his face as he avoids meeting her vision, he knows where his answer will take him, he hates this part — And when will it start to be something? You're getting old, you know… —  she says teasing the possibility of her friend dying alone, he knows she's joking, but that's no comfort to how much it hurts not to have the courage to just hold her face and take what he spent the last 4 years wishing for so much, Jeonghan is patient, but people can hold on for only so long before snapping.

— And when are you going to start dating? Deceiving those little boys is not very nice on your part —  he received an indignant look from his friend, getting exactly where he wanted, the part where he takes control of the conversation back. It was no new's article that Jeonghan didn't really like anyone's face, the problems were always repeated in one way or another, "He's too young, he won't know how to treat you right.", "Look at the way he talks, I could bet five hundred dollars that this guy gets grossed out by the idea of eating pussy, he's just a little boy.", "Beautiful, look at the things this guy posts, he doesn't even know how to talk like a normal person and do you think he'll know how to fuck you?".

It wasn't exactly hard to figure out that Jeonghan doesn't approve of the possibility of his dear and beloved friend being a guy the same age as her, they are immature and gangly, they don't know how to do it the same way he does, they don't have the time and money to be able to take care of her like he can.

The silence coming from his petal makes him worried immediately, if that son of a bitch hurt his love’s heart, he doesn't even know what he's capable of doing — What happened, bunny? — he knew she hated the nickname, he called her by it anyway to get her out of her own head, his princess always thought too much, and he, as her perfect match, knew exactly how to bring her back to the real world.

She sighed before shyly admitting — You were right… —  he felt a wave of satisfaction run through his entire body, he loved it when his theories about the girl's hookups ended up being accurate — What was Hannie right about, hm? Tell me. —  he received a slap on his arm and could tell just from her breathing that his pretty little thing was sulking like never before.

  — He didn't even know how to hold a conversation! He didn't talk about anything worthwhile, he didn't have anything to do with life, he was a bore! — she vented, obviously it was something that had been bothering her for a long time, and who wouldn't be bothered when it's impossible to find a nice guy? Nobody had an interesting back and forth, a way of talking that made her all soft, a way of being that was all unique and special, there was no one like that. There was no one like him.

Jeonghan saw life pass before his eyes, the hand that was on the girl's back unconsciously squeezed her waist a little harder, with his eyes still fixed on the ceiling, for a moment he really considered that he was finally going insane, would she ever notice? Was that what they were going to be for the rest of their lives?

Friends who run into each other's arms to receive the affection and love many couples out there can't dream of having for each other while complaining that they can't find the "right person"? Would she ever really find someone who matched her? Someone who isn't him? Someone who doesn't deserve his girl at all, someone who hasn't spent literal years learning all the little details and parts of her life and worked so hard to be the best friend she could ever have, someone who doesn't love her the same way he does, someone who won't know how to make her cum as good as she deserves, someone who… — Jeonghan? — like the devil, that sweet, sweet voice calls to him, and by this point, he's been starving for quite a while.

— I'd make you the happiest woman in the world if you’d let me —  the words lingered in the air for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, he felt his doll's heart start to act as if she had just run a marathon, the strong beats against his chest seemed to mimic the beating of his own heart, which she surely felt too. He didn't even realize when exactly he closed his eyes out of pure fear of having ruined everything, he also didn't dare to open them when he felt her moving around on top of him, when he thought he couldn't stand to stay there any longer without running. 

He felt the sweetest kiss this universe has ever dared create, immediately his hands went to his... friend’s? Face,  kissing her back fervently, Jeonghan could cry if he didn't have so much adrenaline in his body after confession, the position was already perfect, they were grabbing and pulling and rubbing on each other for so long, maybe twenty minutes? Maybe two hours? Four days? It was hard to discern silly things like the time when he finally had his girl exactly where he had always wanted her.

— I don't want you to go, Jeongie... —  she confessed breathlessly, holding onto collar of the baggy shirt the man wore as if he was going to disappear as soon as she let go, those shiny little eyes were capable of making him fight 9 wars, weed 5 batches, discover the cure for 13 diseases, achieve anything that could possibly make her stay with him forever.

— I know, I know, my love —  he laid her on the bed with all of the care in the world, only to then, like an addict, go back to enjoying his girl's delicious mouth while he tested the territory by caressing the soft skin of her waist and belly under her pajama top — Do you love Hannie? Do you not want him to leave? — Yoon Jeonghan was worse than any whore, he wants to hear that he wasn't the only one who’s obsessed, that he's not the only one who spent the last 4 years losing nights of sleep and wasting who knows how much bath water while thinking about his best friend.

He feels his princess's warm little hands begin to explore his torso, scratching his chest and waist, sinking her sharp nails into the skin of his shoulders and the sides of his abdomen so, so deliciously, if he was a little less patient he would have already given up doing things slowly — Wait for it, you'll how learn to be patient, bunny.  — Jeonghan commanded firmly when he felt his pants being pulled down little by little. His girl would be lying if she said she wasn't dying to give in, the bulge in his pants was more than enough to scare her off, but she knew her Hannie would never hurt her — You'll wait for me to fuck you when you’re ready to take it, without complaining, gonna be good to me. 

The prep was long, this man didn't rest until he made his little doll cum in his mouth, then with his long and precise fingers, then with the both, he paused between the three of them so he wouldn’t overwhelm his sweet girl, he did everything to make her as open up as much possible but it would still take time to be able to fuck hard when he entered her little heaven, he was at peace with it, in fact, he was already in paradise just by eating her out. 

The one who wasn't at peace was her, this asshole was too hot for his own good, if she had the strength she would have already ripped off this motherfucker's underwear with her own teeth, unfortunately no one tells you how hard it is to find the strength to be angry with someone after they just gave you the three best orgasms of your life.

  — You look so much happier, baby, just needed someone to treat you the way you like —  his lips and chin glittered with her honey, if they weren't so close, she would probably be ashamed to have gotten so wet, but he deserved it — It impresses me that you didn't suffocate down there, with those black lungs. They must look like two raisins —  she jokes while pulling him by the shirt to get on top of her again, wiping the sweet juice from his chin with her thumb, only to put it directly in her friend's mouth, who happily received the dirty act and sucked her thumb clean.

— I won't even tell you what I'm going to leave looking like a raisin if you don't drop the attitude — he joked right back before kissing her, drunk in love. That was it, everything he ever wanted, just him and his woman locked in the bedroom, smiling like two idiots while making each other feel good, this could last forever, but now he was the one who couldn't wait any longer, all it took was her looking up to him though her eyelashes, giving him the puppy eyes he fell in love with all those years ago, it was all it took for him decided he couldn't take it anymore — Take it off, I'm tired — he says while letting his hands fall to the sides as he knelt on the bed, in front of her, looking down to his pants basically saying "if you want it, then come and get it", this scoundrel is very lucky to have such a beautiful face, otherwise he would have been punched already. 

When the little game and fights were finally over and the time finally came, he entered very slowly, truly enjoying every second of his precious time and honestly, as much as it killed him to see his little princess in pain... Jesus Christ, that expression with her eyebrows tensed up and half-lidded eyes while her red mouth moans his name just so sweetly is a sight dangerous enough to kill anyone. The scene left him all vulnerable, his knees risked failing, his fingers lost strength, and in the end, Jeonghan was a weakling for his girl.

  Her little sounds were all he needed to start moving, extremely slowly, he needed to train her tight little hole to be fucked by a real man — Those little boys really did you wrong, hm? Doesn't feel like you’ve ever been fucked at all — he made a point of speaking as he watched the long drag of his cock into and out of his little angel, hypnotized.

— Shut up, Jeonghan — she said angrily, it was embarrassing to remember that she had been with other people when she could have spent all of this time getting eaten out this good instead. He replied  — “Jeonghan"? Where's Jeongie, Hannie? Do you want me to stop fucking you so you can tell me about this "Jeonghan" guy? — his suggestion was answered with a loud sound of dissatisfaction, and with the little strength she had below her torso, she hugged his waist with her legs to keep him inside. 

  Watching her desperation filled him with all kinds of feelings, just thinking about how good he could fuck her when his princess was used to his size, he could start drooling right there. He sneaks his face into her neck to start another attack, leaving purple and red marks all over his flower’s shoulder, the easing of his thick cock inside her was too good to be true, he couldn't keep his mouth shut — Mine, mine, mine. — he whispered and grunted at her ear lobe. 

Maybe that was just part of having sex with someone you know so well, but he even knew what the attempts of words she moaned meant, he knew she was fighting with him for deciding all on his own that she belonged to him, he knew his stubborn girl too well to not notice — Try disagreeing, go on — he tells her all whiny, imitating the tone of the moans of his now; girlfriend, according to his head — Tell me that you're not mine, that we belong to other people, that this pretty little pussy wasn't made just for me, go on, tell me — clearly the words affected her a lot, if her watery eyes tightening until they closed and her little hole threatening to expel him from being so tight were anything to be go by. He held her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him. — If you're going to lie to me, lie to my fucking face.

She was going insane, he was doing it so, so well, but he was so slow… Even though a little bit pain was still present, fuck it! She was barely holding on from not trembling with desire, she wanted more, she wanted him — Stop treating me like I'm made out of glass, Jeongie! — she tried to sound bossy but the neediness refused to leave the girl’s voice, Jeonghan could have melted right there.

— And you’re not? What’s my doll made out of, then? — he grabbed one of his girl’s delicious thighs firmly,  leaving a hard slap that would definitely leave a mark, it burned like hell and the bastard didn't help at all, he just held the abused meat again  — What’s this, princess? Did it hurt? Are you gonna to cry?  — the condescension seemed to overflow from his mouth just like his girl's juices overflowed from her puffy hole and stained the fluffy bed sheet with each deep thrust, which now, very slowly as to not hurt her, were taking on a faster rhythm that made her head spin. 

Having thoughts that made sense was too much to ask of the poor thing who was getting the biggest cock beating of her life, she barely heard a word that came out of her beloved's mouth, she just stared at his lips, which used to be thin but were now full and red from the intensity of their love, she just wanted to kiss him again, she needed to be a good girl to kiss him again, did he say something? He said it, didn’t he? A... A question... What was it? "What’s this?" — It’s yours, Jeongie — she replied after using all her mental strength available at that moment, which wasn't much.

Jeonghan couldn't help but smile about how stupid he made his bunny — Mhm, it’s just mine, baby — he held her sweaty little face with gentleness that was completely alien if compared to the harshness of which his hips kissed hers. It was so deep, she felt so full, she never wanted it to end, it was too good, she wanted to cry with the fact that she couldn't hold it for much longer. 

— Do you not want me to stop after you finish, princess? —  he asked just so softly, finding it the most precious scene in the world when his flower frantically shook her head, going "No, no, no!", his cutest little thing — Don’t worry, doll, I’ll only stop when you’re dripping with cum.   

[lovebugism]

Heat wave with Eddie and he's watching you on the other side of the couch and he wants you so bad but it's so hotttt

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where you and eddie try to make the most of the heatwave (established relationship, implications of smut, 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Metal heads hate summer. It’s an unspoken fact. Wild hair, leather jackets, and denim jeans don’t fare well in the heat.

And while there were many bonuses to the warmer season — the music, the ice cream, and you in a bikini to name a few — it didn’t quell Eddie’s personal vendetta with summer. Or rather, summer’s personal vendetta with him.

The month of August was hardly more than an incessant heatwave. One hundred-degree heat, statewide. Without a cool breeze to fill the seasonal silence, there was nothing but a low sizzling sound — like burgers cooking on a grill. The two of you got into his van for a Slurpee run one simmering afternoon and suffered second-degree burns from the pleather cushions and metal seatbelts in the process.

It was miserable. Eddie was far too pale and he liked the color black far too much to find any enjoyment in the summer months. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the power goes out. 

And the only thing worse than a power outage during a heatwave is being horny during a power outage during a heatwave.

“The neighbor said there’s outages all over town—” Your voice comes muffled from where you pad around in the kitchen. “—So, we’ll probably be out for a while.”

You return to the living room wearing an old, white-ribbed tank top and a pair of Eddie’s plaid boxers, rolled at the hem to fit you better. You carry two glasses of lemonade in your hands, fogged with the cubes of ice you’d dropped into them before they could melt in the freezer. 

You’re too pretty for your own good. Eddie’s suffocated by the sweltering heat as much as he is by the overwhelming urge to touch you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans in response, sprawled out on the couch across the room. He’s barely moved from that spot all day. He only got up once to tie his hair back and then anxiously pace back and forth for several minutes. A few ornery curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat. “Should we just, like, get a hotel or something?”

“With what money?” you scoff in place of a laugh.

His scrunched brows go lax. “Oh, yeah…”

“We’ll be okay. It’ll only be out for a couple more hours— at least.”

“Hours?” Eddie whines, all pinched-browed, as you hand him his lemonade.

You scrunch your nose down at the boy with a sympathetic gaze. “Think we can survive that long?”

“I’m withering away as we speak,” he deadpans.

“You’re so dramatic…” you giggle. The unkind words come out coated in a layer of sweet honey. You love him too much for anything else.

You pluck your book from the coffee table and plop down on the other side of the couch. You curl your knees to your chest, not having much room left over from Eddie’s longer legs. 

He’d tried to do the same an hour or more ago. He’d been too bored to read then. All the words melted together because his brain was swimming with heat. He doesn’t know how you’re doing it, honestly. All he knows is he can’t stop looking at you.

You’re a pretty little thing sitting across from him. So much of your skin is on display — arms, collarbones, ankles, and thighs. He wants to kiss every inch of you. He could if it wasn’t so damn hot. Now, all he can do is admire you from a distance and pray the power comes back soon so he can love you all over.

Eddie shifts on the couch for a few moments. He jostles the cushions beneath you as he twists on them, maneuvering so his legs are propped up on the coffee table and he’s slouching against the back of the sofa. 

His underwear rides up his pale thigh. The white undershirt he refuses to take off is damp at the collar with sweat.

You pay little attention to his fidgeting. He’s often restless, but especially when he’s got nothing to do. You feel his sticky fingers curl around your stickier calf a second later. His touch is soft and slow, sweet like syrup, as he smooths his hand up and down the back of your leg. 

You shoot the boy a look from over the top of your book. “You okay, Eds?”

“Other than melting?” he retorts with his head tilted to his shoulder. He shoots you a wide, fatigued grin through his reddened cheeks. “I’m peachy, sweetheart.”

“It’s a little too hot to be touching each other right now, babe,” you advise with your gaze turned back to the book in your lap. He keeps on caressing you, though, and you keep on letting him.

“I know…” he murmurs with a faint pout scrunching his features. His palm squeezes the top of your ankle before rising again. “I just miss you…”

“I’m right here,” you counter with a soft giggle.

“You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you concede with a sigh. “I know what you mean.”

If you had it your way, Eddie Munson would be touching you all the time. He usually is, anyway — but every second he’s not, it feels like you’re grieving. You’re made restless because of how underwhelmed you are, all grumpy because you’re so sticky with heat. You want so desperately to curl up in Eddie’s arms and hide there forever, but it’s already getting hard to breathe without the AC on. And the sweat’s making your clothes cling to your skin. The thought of physical affection right now makes you feel a bit sick.

He squeezes your calf again, this time to get your attention. 

Your eyes peek at him from over your book. You find his flushed face curled into a tired, yet still mischievous smirk. 

“And, you know, just for the record or whatever,” he lilts quietly with a twinkle in his chocolate syrup eyes. “If it wasn’t a billion degrees in here, I’d totally plow the shit outta you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go wide at his words.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so immediately turned on.

You squeeze your knees together, clenching your thighs in hopes of soothing the ache that begins to pulsate between them. “Wow. That is… very forward of you, Eds.”

“I think the heat’s making me delirious,” he admits with his head tilted back against the couch. His pale, sticky neck is on display for you. You feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into the milky white tendon there.

“Well, good thing about power outages in the summer — the cold water in the shower feels like heaven,” you tell him, feigning absentmindedness as you flip a page of your novel.

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his damp, curly bangs. He grins with a newfound light in his eyes. “Ooh,” he singsongs. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“I have… three more pages left in this chapter,” you tell the boy after flicking through the book. You shoot him a glance beneath your lashes — less obvious in your mischievous disposition but still sparkling with it anyway. You knock his thigh with your foot. “Go get undressed, loverboy.”

Your words bring him back to life. 

He surges with an energy he lost sometime between the late spring and early summer as he leaps off the couch. He nearly trips over the coffee table on his journey to the bathroom. His hurried footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the hallway.

You hear the shower faucet hiss on from a distance. It’s music to your ears. You know you’ll be in there all day — or, at least, until the power comes back on. You’re left suddenly hoping it won’t come on for another good while yet.

Not until Eddie makes you forget your name against the shower wall.

[thesoftuglywrites]

Like A Million Yen

Originally, I wanted to get this posted on the 31st of October… that clearly didn’t happen. Oh well.

Post-Shibuya!Nanami

Enjoy!

WC: 4.3 K

Panic overwhelmed you as you hurriedly scoured through the makeshift infirmary. The only sound registering in your ears was the thrumming of your erratic heartbeat and the rushing of blood.

You had known that Kento was called in to deal with an emergent mission that had suddenly sprung up on the both of you, but never in a million years could you have imagined something as grand-scale as this. The only thing that compared would probably have been the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons almost a year ago, but Kento managed to survive that situation relatively unscathed.

This time was different.

You had received the call from Yuuji, that Kento was severely injured and that you had to come quickly. The news, at first, startled you, but what scared you the most was how defeated and exhausted Yuuji’s voice sounded.

You acted fast, darting in and out of the curtained and sectioned off rooms, and past the lined up cots that held all of the other injured sorcerers and civilians. Though you couldn’t see yourself, you could only imagine how disheveled and wild you looked as you frantically searched for your husband.

“Mrs. Nanami!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, and turned to see Yuuji, all battered and cut up from the battle that had ensued. That he had survived.

You let out a breath of relief that you didn't even know that you were holding in, and rushed towards him, pulling him into your arms, and crushing him to your chest. You were grateful to see him on his feet, taking his appearance into consideration, of course, but you were thankful that he was alive and breathing, nonetheless.

"Thank God you're okay," you whispered, your hands tightly gripping at the back of his tattered uniform. You pulled away, and gently cupped the sides of his face. "Are you hurt?"

Yuuji, seemingly slipped into a dissociative state as he bore a thousand yard stare into your eyes as he looked back at you, blinked a couple of times as he was able register that you were speaking to him.

"I, uh... I'm fine Mrs. Nanami, I swear, " he stammered out, rather unconvincingly.

You were going to circle back to Yuuji whenever the circumstance would allow you to, but right now, you just wanted to be reunited with your husband more than anything.

"Yuuji, can you take me to Kento? I don't know where they're keeping him..." You've never sounded so small before. You hated it.

Yuuji grasped your wrist and led you to the farthest corner of the infirmary, guiding you to the end of a long line of curtained beds. You could feel your heart hammer against your chest the closer and closer you got to Kento, the beating sound beginning to overpower your sense of hearing. That's all you could really hear in that moment in time.

At the very end of the line, Yuuji stopped and pulled back the divider of the very last section, letting you go ahead of him into the tiny impromptu room. You hesitantly stepped in, your eyes landing on a figure that was laid on a cot.

As you approached, you could see that it was in fact Kento and that half of his body was wrapped up in white bandages, the other half was seemingly left unharmed. For the most part, at least. His hair was a birds nest upon his head, the skin that was left uncovered was bruised with black and blue marks, and he looked utterly exhausted.

You pulled up a chair that was in the room and placed it beside the cot, and took his hand in yours. His skin was warm to the touch, and you watched as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, reinforcing the fact that your husband was alive. Injured and wounded to an extent that you didn't know of just quite yet, but alive, regardless. You brought his hand up to your lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, thanking whatever higher power would bother to even listen to you in that moment.

You held his hand up to your lips for a few seconds longer, before giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Nghh.... darling? Is that you?"

His voice pulled you out of your silent reverie, and you almost cried tears of joy when you saw your husbands uncovered eye looking at you blearily.

You wanted to throw yourself on top of his body, but rationality stopped you from doing so. So, instead, you opted to placing his palm on your cheek, trying to gain some semblance of control over your emotions as they began to spiral out of control the more that you leaned into his touch and sought out his warmth.

You wanted to be strong for Kento.

You had to be strong for Kento. Especially, considering that there was likely going to be a long road of recovery ahead of him.

You wanted, no, needed to be a rock for him to build his foundation on, like he had done for you many times before in times of turmoil for you.

"How are you feeling?" you managed to get out, your voice shaky.

He gave you a half-hearted smile. "Like a million yen, my love."

You leaned over him to press a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering just a second too long. "Well, thank goodness for that." You tenderly pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you just tried to bask in his presence and his touch.

"You're not going to be happy with me."

You pulled away, confused. "What? Why would I be unhappy with you?"

A tiny, sheepish grin. "I've lost my wedding ring."

~

You got the full story from Yuuji when Kento had been taken to a healing session with Shoko the next morning. He had been badly burned by some unregistered special grade, and, instead of seeking out help like he should have initially done, had recklessly put himself back into the line of duty and had fought off a horde of transfigured humans in his horrendously mutilated state in hopes of searching for his fallen comrades. He was about to be transfigured by the special grade that was responsible for the horde, some childlike curse named Mahito, but Yuuji, arriving at the eleventh hour, managed to prevent that from happening, swiftly dealing with it before anymore damage could occur.

You had made a mental note to thank Yuuji in some grand, special way that you could go about. Whether it would be a home cooked meal with all the stops pulled out, or, hell, maybe even adoption papers (though, that would have to definitely be discussed with Kento before anything like that came to fruition), you had to do something for the young sorcerer to properly thank him for saving your significant other.

Kento had been promptly discharged from acute medical observation after having spent a week within the confines of the Jujutsu High Infirmary and having numerous healing sessions with Shoko in the process. His red, angry burned left half of his body slowly dimmed to a lightly, flushed pink, and the hair on that side of his body was going to take come time to grow back, of course. Unfortunately, his left eye was something that Shoko was able to regenerate, but he wasn't going to be able to see out of it, rendering him to the use of an eyepatch.

You had spent every waking moment with Kento, doing everything in your power to aide him and be of assistance to him in whatever way possible. You had helped him to the toilets whenever he needed to go, you helped bathe him all while trying to be conscientious of his healing skin, had been at his beck and call and had promptly forced him back into bed several times whenever he tried to go and do things independently.

He hated being catered to, being treated like he was incapable of doing things for himself, by himself. For you, however, he allowed the exception. Begrudgingly, if that.

The first few weeks back home were... uneasy, to say the least.

Every time that you caught Kento looking at himself in the mirror, you would see his mouth turn up in disgust, and he would briskly turn his head in the other direction. He didn't want to leave the apartment, fearing what the general public may think of him.

You've never known your husband to be extraordinarily vain, but you wanted to give him some grace. His appearance and some of his physical capabilities have been drastically changed, and the both of you needed to take some time to get used to it.

As time went on, his mood became more and more surly.

He had withdrawn within himself, and no matter how determined you were to try and coax out what he was truly feeling inside, he would shut down and go nonverbal.

What was most hurtful, however, was how reluctant he was to let you touch him, and vice versa. It seemed that any chance you would take to try and initiate some form of physical affection with him, Kento would immediately brush you off or straight up reject your advances.

"Not tonight, my love. I just want to go to bed."

"Not right now, darling. I'm not in the mood."

Oh, and you could forget about sex. There was no way in hell Kento allowed you to touch him in that sort of regard. Not that you wanted to get physically intimate with him, keeping in mind that he way still recovering from some pretty egregious injuries on the entire half of his left body.

It was just something that lingered in your mind for some time.

You knew that the road to recovery was going to going to be a long one, but you hadn't anticipated the man that your husband was becoming.

Or had already become.

Yuuji, Megumi, Ino, Ijichi, Shoko, and among others paid visits to your home, checking in the two of you to see how you were faring, Shoko mainly stopping in to see how Kento was healing in his post treatment. Shoko was really the only one that Kento allowed to see, hiding himself away in the safety and privacy of your bedroom if it was anyone else.

You knew at some point that Kento was going to have to talk to you, about anything and everything that was going on inside him. It was just a matter of when it was going to happen.

The straw that broke the camels back was when Kento, all while trying to enjoy a cup of coffee at the dining table, accidentally lost his grip on his mug, causing it to shatter on the ground, allowing the contents to spill out all over the floor.

"God dammit!" he quietly snarled to himself as he leaned down beside the chair to pick up the shards of the mug, his hands trembling.

You rushed forward with a dish towel, trying to beat him to the shards of the broken mug. "Here, let me-"

You threw the towel over the mess, as you tenderly picked up the bits of the broken mug and placed them in the palm of your hand, careful not to try and pierce yourself with them.

"I'm sorry."

You paused, looking up at him questionably. "Why are you sorry? It was an accident, Kento. This hardly deserves an apology."

A forlorn look crossed his facial features, the unmarred half of his face scrunching up like he was trying to fight off an onslaught of tears that welled up in his eyes. As he sat there, his emotions brewing within him, he felt like he was a child again. The despair and turmoil swirling in both his chest and his abdomen, overwhelming him as his current state of mind rendered him to feel as if these things were too … too complex for him to process, like he was experiencing it again for the very first time. It was as if the world was too big for him, and he was too small for it. "No. I'm sorry."

You realized that this was more than just the spilled coffee and the broken mug. You stood up, holding the mug in the safety net of the dish rag, watching as Kento began to speak his piece.

A few tears managed to spill over, and you watched as they rolled down his cheek. “When I was sucked into the domain expansion of that water-based Curse along with Maki, Megumi, and Naobito, I thought of you.” He wiped away at the tears on his cheek, keeping his head down so he wouldn’t meet your gaze. "When I was burned by that unregistered special grade, I thought of you. I had… I could’ve gone back to Shoko. I should have gone back…"

You remained silent as your husband broke open before you, the floodgates now barreling wide open. He hunched his shoulders forward, leaning somewhat of his weight onto the table as a sob ripped through his core.

"I nearly died, and left you behind."

In that moment, the reality of the ordeal that Kento survived seemed to finally sink in. The repressed shock and horror coming to the forefront of his mind, forcing him to relive those moments, from the moment when he first set foot within the veil to nearly dying at the hands of the Special-Grade Curse in the Shibuya subway station. He buried his face into his hands and cried, his entire trunk rattling with each shaky breath he took.

He cried for the fact that students, fellow sorcerers, and innocent civilians alike were murdered in cold blood. He cried for the fact that he wasn't able to protect Maki, Megumi, and Naobito from the unregistered special grade. He cried for the fact, that instead of seeking help when he was gravely injured, that he foolishly put himself back onto the frontline. He cried for the fact that he was content with dying at the hands of Mahito, with the prospect of you becoming a widow at such a young age, especially when the pair of you had only been married for a little over two years.

It became clear to you that Kento was suffering from survivor’s guilt. To him, why was he, out of everyone who responded to the incident in Shibuya, allowed to survive?

Why was he granted the ability to continue on living, when there were people who were far more deserving of it?

You set the dishrag on the table top, unable to idly stand by while Kento was in distress. With careful hesitation, you slowly extended your hand out to him, softly touching his shoulder as they shook with sobs. You held still for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction to your physical contact with him, unsure if he would allow you to continue any further.

When he didn't flinch away or move your hand off his shoulder, you cautiously inched closer to him and pulled him by his shoulders into you, letting him bury his face into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his head, threading your fingers into his hair.

"How can you stand to touch me?! Or even be near me?! I'm hideous," he sobbed, his voice muffled.

"I married you for you, remember?"

Kento lifted his face out of the valley of your breasts and met your gaze, his eyes swollen and teary. You tenderly placed a hand on the scarred side of his face, and stroked his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Is this okay?"

He nodded mutely, and closed his eyes, leaning his face into your hand. Kento denied himself the joy of your touch and comfort since he’s been back home with you, out of the shame and humiliation that he harbored for himself.

"I married a kind, gentle, and loving man. A courageous, and valiant man, someone who abnegates himself and his own safety for those he oversees, especially for his students, so that they can make it back home to their loved ones alive and breathing." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his hair. "I’m blessed to have such a wonderful person to call mine. Above all, I’m blessed that this person allows me to call them mine, and that they chose me, out of all the potential partners that they could have had… they chose me." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, your lips lingering on his left side for a second longer than the right side. "And I am forever grateful for that."

A beat of silence passed between the two of you after you finished speaking.

"I should be dead."

Dread washed through you at his statement, but you quickly pushed it to the side, trying to remain steadfast. "But you’re not, Kento. You’re here with me."

Kento gently pushed you back several inches, giving him some room to stand up from the chair to his full height. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his front, allowing you to place the side of your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"And for that, my love, I am forever grateful."

~

Both you and Kento weaved your way through the crowds as the two of you trekked to the underground labyrinth that was the Tokyo subway station. You were headed back Jujutsu Tech for a final checkup appointment with Shoko for Kento.

It wasn't easy to convince him to step out of your shared apartment for the first time, but with enough encouragement and persuading from your end, he finally gave in. One of the conditions, however, was that you accompany him on his appointment and that you find him an eyepatch to wear over his left eye.

You also saw that as an opportunity to see Yuuji. You know that the poor boy has been worried sick over Kento.

You hadn't noticed that there was a slight lag in Kento's hold on your hand as you led him through the crowds until you suddenly were yanked backwards, making you groan out a soft 'oof'.

You turned around to see what was the matter, only to find Kento's gaze focused on a point in the distance, his stare unblinking. You craned your head the other way to see what he was so focused on.

B5.

You heard his respiration hitch and pick up in rate, teetering towards hyperventilating the more he stared at the sign on the wall.

"Hey, hey, hey," you gently cooed, quickly jumping into action to try and prevent a full on panic attack out in the open. You grabbed hold of Kento's face with both of your hands, pulling his gaze away from the sign to bring his eyes down to yours. "Look at me, nothing's going to happen. I promise."

"I...I can't-" his voice sounds strangled.

"Yes, you can. Mahito was exorcised, Yuuji saw it happen himself. You're not as injured as you were before. You're healed. I'm with you, and I'll be with you every step of the way."

Kento visibly relaxed to a certain extent the more you soothe him, your rationality of the situation overpowering his anxiety.

"Here's what's going to happen: we're going to get on the subway, like the many times that we've done before. We're going to ride the subway for six stops until we get to the stop that's ten minutes away from Jujutsu Tech. We'll leave the station, and walk the ten minutes to campus so Shoko can check you out one last time and then we're going to pay Yuuji a visit in his dorm. Don't you need to thank him still?"

He nodded, his shoulders sagging as his head dropped.

"Then let's go, yeah? We’re about to miss our train." You offered him a full hearted smile as you tugged him towards the station.

He let out an apprehensive sigh, letting you guide him forward.

Kento maintained an ironlike grip on your hand as the two of you rode the train, his eye flitting between you and the other passengers, constantly surveying his surroundings in fear that danger would arise at any moment. You silently reassured him by squeezing his hand every so often, your thumb softly stroking the backside of his hand wherever you could reach.

As you expected, the train ride went without a hitch as the car rolled to a stop at your desired destination. He maintained his hold on your hand as you climbed the stairs out of the subway station, slowly but surely releasing some of the tension in his grip.

"See? What'd I tell you?" You leaned up to peck his cheek, reaching the top of the stairs.

"We're having Ijichi drive us back," he grumbled, a scowl forming on his face.

"Ijichi's out attending to a mission with Panda. And besides, this is good exposure therapy for you."

"Ugh."

The appointment with Shoko also went without any issues, with her performing a full body examination on Kento, testing his movements and reflexes on his left side, while getting updates on how he was faring back home. Shoko also let out a low hum of approval at the mention of Kento getting back onto the subway. She signed off on his case file, granting him full permission to get back out into the field, though, all parties in the conversation knew that the possibility of that actually happening was few and far between.

Yuuji was ecstatic to see the two of you standing outside of his dorm, yelping out a lively "Nanamin!" as he launched himself onto Kento, engulfing him into a bear hug.

Kento, taking it all in stride, chuckled and patted the back of Yuuji's head with his free hand. "Hello, Itadori-kun."

The young boy wasted no time, pulling the two of you into his dorm room, filling you in on everything that had gone on campus, mainly sticking around Toge, Panda, and Megumi as everyone was still trying to recover from the grand scale attack that was Shibuya. You had learned of the fates of Nobara and Maki, Kento softly exhaling out a breath that he didn't even realize that he was holding in, now knowing that Maki was alive and well, just recovering from extreme burns like he had been, as well as Nobara also narrowly escaping death from Mahito, permanently blinding her from her left eye.

Both girls were still in recovery. Kento made mental notes to himself to check in on them whenever his schedule would allow him to. He also made a mental note to scold Nobara whenever he would get the chance to, now remembering that he had instructed both her and Nitta to stay behind and wait for help after he had saved them from the fool with the hand for sword.

"Come over for dinner on Sunday? I'll make your favorite dish, whatever it is," you asked Yuuji as you and Kento headed towards the door, planning on taking your leave.

"Yes, please, Mrs. Nanami! I would love to!"

"Good. You need a proper meal and I know that the convenience store ramen and snacks aren't doing a good enough job of keeping you healthy and strong. The door is open whenever you would like to come over."

As you turned to open the door, you were stopped by an "Oh, wait, Nanamin!"

Kento looked over his shoulder to see Yuuji rummaging through his bedside drawer, before picking up an object that was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

"I remember the last time I visited your apartment, you had mentioned that Nanamin had lost his wedding ring. So... I figured... y'know?"

Yuuji presented with an open palm, the wedding ring that Kento had been missing since the 31st of October.

"Itadori-kun..." Kento gasped, fully facing Yuuji now as he grabbed the piece of jewelry out of his hand. "How... how did you find this?" He turned the ring all over, inspecting it to find your initials and the date of your wedding inscribed on the inside of his band, thus cementing the fact that it was his wedding band.

"I went back to the Shibuya station and checked all of the lost and founds that were available there," Yuuji answered brightly, watching with joy as Kento slipped the ring into his suit jacket pocket. "When I couldn't find it there, I searched all of the floors and just... got lucky, I guess."

"You have no idea how happy this has made me, Itadori-kun," Kento beamed at Yuuji, reaching forward to pull him into a hug. "Thank you."

Yuuji wordlessly accepted the hug, resting his chin on his shoulder as he squeezed him back.

You watched the scene unfold, a sense of warmth spreading through your chest.

You reminisced on the moments that you and Yuuji shared when Kento was still in the infirmary, thinking on how much Yuuji came to care for him, not just as his mentor, but as a father figure, one that he never got to experience for himself. You knew how much he valued your husband's opinion, and desperately wanted to earn his respect.

He must have been over the moon.

Kento pulled away, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "See you Sunday, yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course, Nanamin. I'll see you and Mrs. Nanami there."

"Alright. Take care of yourself, Itadori-kun."

As you left the main building and ventured into the courtyard, heading to the main entrance of Jujutsu Tech, Kento stopped you, as he dug back into his suit jacket.

"Here." He presented you with his ring. "I want you to do it."

With careful fingers, you gingerly took the ring from him and slid it back onto his left fourth digit. You peered up at him. "How are you feeling, Ken?"

He swooped his left hand with yours and brought it up to his lips, placing a kiss to the back of it.

"Like a million yen, my love."

And this time, he truly meant it.

[infiniteglitterfall]

Please be aware that Within Our Lifetime explicitly supports what Hamas did on October 7. That's what it's referring to when it says "uplift the Palestinian people resisting by any means necessary."

That's why it's on October 7. The rally is specifically to celebrate and show support for this:

And that when it says "supporting Palestinians resisting genocide by any means necessary since 1948," it's genuinely claiming that Israel has been committing genocide continuously since 1948.

Even when every surrounding country invaded in 1948. Even during the 19 years that Egypt occupied Gaza and Jordan occupied the West Bank. Even when Palestine declared independence in 1988 and went through years of peace negotiations with Israel. Even when Israel destroyed all settlements in Gaza in 2005, pulled out all troops, and ended all Israeli administration of it.

Most of all, please understand that this is NOT "standing with the people of Gaza!"

The people of Gaza have had SO MANY protests against Hamas over the past year. They did not want any of this.

His tweet continues:

Just look at Hamas’ October 7th—after a year of hyping up that atrocity in the name of "resistance," what are their demands now? Not even a return to the day before, but something that’s a disaster far worse than October 6th, 50 years ago. And the best part? Not even the most extreme Zionist could’ve dreamed up a plan as disastrous as the one Hamas has unleashed on Gaza. But sure, go ahead and accuse the Zionists—while the “resistance” ends up doing more damage to its own people than their assumed enemy could ever imagine.

Gazan activist Hamza Howidy writes:

We Gazans attempted several times to remove Hamas from power. In 2019 and in 2023, the people of Gaza held peaceful marches against Hamas; for this crime, we were brutally assaulted by Hamas militants. Hamas imprisoned over 1,300 protestors at each protest. I was one of them. I was personally imprisoned by Hamas and tortured twice, because I participated in these protests. So I know firsthand that when ordinary Gazans like myself protested against Hamas, there was no media attention. No human rights organizations demanded the release of prisoners held for months in Hamas prisons, not to mention those who were tortured by Hamas, and even killed by Hamas—like Issam Al-Saaffein, who was killed under torture in Hamas's jails.

It's long past time for the pro-Palestinian movement to center and support the activists of Gaza.

🇵🇸 On Monday October 7th Flood New York City For Palestine, stand with Gaza and uplift the Palestinian people resisting genocide by any means necessary since 1948. Call out of work and school, take to the streets and join us throughout the day 🌊

Confront the forces of imperialism and zionism and let the world know that NYC stands with our people’s heroic struggle in the face of annihilation. Share widely, travel to NYC from wherever you are and join us in the streets on 10/7.

GATHERING POINTS: 1:00 PM Wall St (NYSE) 2:30 PM City Hall 3:30 PM Washington Sq. Park 4:00 PM Union Square 5:00 PM Grand Central 5:30 PM Times Square 6:00 PM Columbus Circle

[h5eavenly]

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

nine -the devil and angel are entangled. warnings: smut and a bit of angst.

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You’re having a bad day. It did not necessarily start that way. In fact, your morning started out as one of the best in quite a while, from waking up ten minutes earlier than your alarm to the pleasant quietness that had swirled around in your apartment settling that same pleasant emotion to swim through every nook and cranny of your being.

And so, you find yourself going on a coffee run before heading to the company, a charming smile adorns your face that gets you a free blueberry muffin. It all falls perfectly into the pleasurable warm buzz in your chest. like pieces of a puzzle flumping into place. Crumbs of joy that had managed to find its way into you, separating the collective graying clouds of heartbreak you’ve been lying on for a couple of days.

But oh, you were so wrong. You should have known these clouds are gonna be replaced with a burning fire instead. One that you became too familiar with. It sets your soul ablaze every time you come face to face with the devil’s facet, clad in designer brands and doused in a seemingly uncanny aptitude for getting on your nerves.

Jake Sim.

“What the fuck is this?” he almost spits, a grimace clinging to his handsome features and a glare saturated with the same fire that’s burning inside of you.

“Coffee?” you reply, drily. Your gaze flickers between his eyes and the cup of coffee you handed to him ten seconds ago.

“It tastes like absolute shit. What kind of milk is this?” your hand twitches against your chest, you fight against an otherworldly urge to just smack him across the head and maybe pull on his perfectly styled hair that somehow manages to add grams of beauty to his already perfectly sculpted face –

Okay. Taking a deep breath in, you manage to trap in your wild thoughts for a mere second as you clear your throat.

“Califia. Isn’t that what you like?”

“This is not Califia.” he declares. His head swivels towards you with a deepening glare that somehow has your insides tying into knots. His eyes shouldn’t affect you this much but the dusted colors of dark brown and a light black on his lids only add sharpness to them. It has you pathetically kneeling into desire.

From behind him Sunoo sighs, abandoning his work on jake’s face and his brushes to walk away from the growing heated argument he knows is bound to happen. He has been a witness to it close to a hundred times by now.

“Call me when you’re done.” He calls to the both of you with a yawn. It falls on deafening ears as you attempt, fragilely so to glare back at Jake.

“it’s what I asked them for I don’t know what to tell you Jake.” Even his name leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, melting into something darker that you ignore.

“Well clearly someone is lying here.”

“it’s not like I can make the coffee myself.”

“Then don’t bring me something I didn’t ask for.”

“I’m just trying to be nice.”

“that’s not working very well for you, isn’t it bunny?” his tight brows and tongue poking his cheek shouldn’t also affect you, but it does. Perhaps that’s why it annoyed you, the fact that he was just so attractive yet so annoying. Pulling you apart with confusion. It all bleeds into frustration that bubbles up in your blood, so you huff. Refusing to accept defeat.

“I’ll get you a different one.”

You try to reach for his cup that he has deemed worthless, placed it on top of the table across from him. His hand circles your wrist before you do. His fingers are cold against your pulse, sending shivers down your spine and a pitiful gasp bubble at the back of your throat. Coming up with immense force and almost spills your deviant cravings right at jake’s face. You bite on your lower lip just in time to kill your embarrassment.

“Just get me a protein bar instead. I’m not in the mood for coffee anymore.” The lack of emotions in his tone is antithetical to the masses dancing in his eyes. growing darker in color, splashed with undeniable desire. Making itself so evident when he glances down at your bitten lips.

You swallow around nothing. Your eyes prancing between his as if it’s ever possible for fire to be added upon more fire. Like it could consume you whole and turn you into ashes that simply lays at the feet of the nation’s sweetheart. Another countless victim to the glistening of him. You don’t know who you should start throwing the blanket of blame on first. Your ex-boyfriend who cheated on you and left you to deal with despair on your own? Or perhaps it was the perpetrator who started this little game of mouse and cat? Translating itself into endless staring contests between the two of you and you always end up losing somehow.

It only got somehow rapidly worse over the week. Jake will peek at you in the most random of times. Between the fluttering of his lashes as he’s getting his face done for whatever upcoming programme or in the between the crowds of nameless people and amid the loads of work, you’re being crushed under. His eyes would find you one way or another. A thin line on the verge of breaking stays between you two. It’s in the lingering of his stare when you’re stuck in the van in the middle of unmoving traffic. He rests his chin in the heart of his palm and a wandering curiosity laces his gaze with a dazzling intensity. They’re piercings and more than anything clear.

Capturing you in place with the overwhelming knowledge that he knows exactly what he wants. It almost has you melting against the leather of the car seats. Like a flower loitering amongst many, almost blending in with everything else and hoping to be lucky enough to get picked. It’s pathetic. You grow hateful at it so quickly it should be alarming. It meshes into you taking it as a challenge, daring yourself not to be the first to be weakened and look away.

A smirk disperses across Jake’s lips each time with no fail and you stumble on your cold façade, swaying and drenched in a feeble coated loneliness. Yet with a coarse heart you take and take until you snapped.

It happened two days ago.

After a long day of work you find yourself in the all-too familiar elevator of the company. An Aching body and a hazy mind. Jake has his head thrown back against the wall behind him, his Prada sunglasses covering his eyes while Jay is next to him scrolling through his phone mindlessly. You bask in this rare tranquility for a few seconds before it’s interrupted by a huge group of staff members. Invading the cramped space. With a sigh and deflating shoulders, you move to make space. Squishing yourself into a corner as you hug yourself in futile attempts to make yourself appear smaller than you already are.

You’re surprised when another smaller group joins in as well leaving little to no room to breathe. Jake is somehow pushed right next to you and into your space. His scent breaks its way through to you before you feel him against your back, his chest pressed against you, and he uses his palm to rest on the wall right next to your head that is refusing to face him. Instead thanking God and the heavens above at the lack of mirrors in this specific elevator.

The last thing you want right now is catch your own reflection or even worse – Jake’s reflection.

The sudden proximity has your heart picking speed as you haven’t been this close to Jake before, his expensive perfume almost chokes you when someone pushes him again. Causing him to press you further against the wall. You’re starting to feel suffocated. It only ever becomes worse when you grow hyperaware of his chest raising and falling against your back, his breath fans against your exposed neck and you shiver.

“You good, bunny?” Jake murmurs into the back of your head, his other arm coming up to splay his hand flat against the wall, successfully caging you in. his voice is low yet soft. Softer than any other time he had spoken to you before, tenderly causing tingles to linger at the top of your spine.

Jake had never spoken to you gently before if he’s not blunt and cold. He is teasing you with harmless insults and perhaps that’s why his tone has specifically broke you that day. It blazed a trail down your being, nestling in the middle of your stomach and travelling down right to your core.

When was the last time someone had spoken to you this softly?

You can’t come up with a good enough answer. Not to the question swimming around in your fizzy mind or the one Jake threw at you. you’re flickering, wobbling on this thin line between you and your eyes are following the trail of veins on his hands. They look so strong that your brain melts and turns into mush, the only thought arising on top of everything is that he could fuck you right now and you would definitely let him.

Maybe that’s why when your lips separate a phantom of a whimper escapes you, ringing in Jake’s ears when you start squirming, pushing your lower half back against him in the process. You aren’t sure if you’re trying to get away or closer to him.

“What are you doing?” He groans, pushing further into you to stop your constant movement. The sound sends another unwanted shudder through your body.

“I can’t breathe.” You hang your head, disgrace marring your cheeks in red at the way you catch yourself in a lie. The way your eyes have glazed over, and there’s a haze turning your mind into a jumbled mess. forcing you into the lust you have been denying the existence of for days now.

You can’t breathe.

And it’s not because of this cage you found yourself trapped in, it’s because of him.

“we’re almost there.” His voice is almost like a distance dangled comfort, offered by some pitying god that you refuse to take despite your sinful thoughts and so you grow quiet, equally terrified at acknowledging the fact you want him.

You feel like a stumbling mess all the way home, with wobbly legs and a quivering heart that somehow always manages to make itself your worst enemy. You don’t allow yourself the pleasure to scour the thoughts swirling in your mind for answers. Instead, you mellow out into the tingling electricity that had lingered on your back. As if his scent seared itself onto you, you end up touching yourself in the middle of your bed. myriad of visions invades your mind. They’re mostly of Jake’s hands and intensive stare. A glorious fire that takes you so high up and only when you’re down do you realize;

Oh, you’re so fucked.

“yn,” jake’s annoyed voice pulls you right back into the current situation you’re in. he arches a brow at you and you blink, breaking yourself out of a daze.

Daydreaming about your boss who happens to be in front of you right now is a different kind of fucked. One that you didn’t have in your bingo card for this year.

“Right. Protein bar I’m on it.” You free your wrist from his grip easily, he falls back into his seat with suspicion mixed with irritation that has him biting on his lower lip. A habit that you grew to hate so quickly. It has you straightening your back and moving away in a stiff manner. As if you’re an alien that just learned how to walk on human ground.

“You okay?” Jay asks you when you manage to faceplant right into his chest as soon as you’re out of the room, a breath of a chuckle escapes him at your expression.

You only give him an equally stiff thumbs up, a blush so deeply red spreads across your cheeks like an exposure to all the corrupted fantasies that found your brain and made it their home. It’s so ridiculous you don’t even welcome them so why are they taking over you as if you are a dried up branch flourishing back to life with none other than your desire for Jake Sim out of all people.

You will not allow it.

You catch yourself in another lie when afternoon rolls around. Passing by you with a blur drenched in misfortunate mishaps. It all begins with an inexplainable discussion you end up in with one of the staff members, you don’t recognize her so you think she must be new. She saw you next to Jake earlier that morning and apparently thought it was funny to joke about you and him fucking and perhaps it hit way too close to him. Perhaps because it is something you’ve been thinking about for nights upon nights but it had angered you so much. To the point where you decide to give her a piece of your mind when you run into her in the bathroom.

Despite the smell of actual shit surrounding you, your anger doesn’t subside. In fact, it only grows bigger when the girl rolls her eyes at you and walks away in the middle of you talking. You screamed, hitting your hand against the wall.

And that’s how you ended up with a broken nail. A bandage that has a fucking bunny on it of all animals wrapped around your pinky and a scowl not nearly as cute plastered on your face. You are startled when the door of the dressing room opens, your stare flits across Jake’s figure that dawdles past you followed by Sunghoon. You sink further into the couch you’re sitting on. Annoyance pulling at you when your silence is interrupted.

“Oh, hey yn.” Sunghoon greets, notices your figure that is being drowned by a graying disappointment. Almost as deep as the lines forming between your brows.

“Hey,” you return drily.

Your eyes linger on Jake, and he catches them from across the room. They cut into you deeply, it has you splitting open, breaking like shattered glass and your only wish as you go down is to cut him back.

The longer your staring stretches the more you feel your blood started to bubble with something akin to anger. Running through your veins and becoming one with every other negative emotion that has nestled in you throughout the day. It makes up all of you, turning you into a hungry void that wants to swallow everything in sight. It only grows when you feel like you’re the only one who’s getting burned by this fire growing vastly fast between you two.

Jake’s façade never breaks, doused with indifference and feigned coldness. It’s in the way his pruriency for you is ferocious. Taking up every sense of his being, he finds it in the notes of your scent, vanilla, and cinnamon like you’ve stumbled out of a bakery. Sugary sweet and he’s never been a fan of dessert, yet he grows a sweet tooth just for the taste of you.

It’s in the way you’re infuriatingly confident. Carrying yourself with a loudness he’s sure he despises yet you manage to walk away with pockets full of his attention. The shape of your body capturing growing ounces of his interest day by day. Perhaps he’s just sexually frustrated, he hasn’t fucked anyone since Chaewon. And so, when he glances one too many times at your legs and when he’s staring at your breasts too long to be deemed discreet. He lets himself because he’s just taken by his sweeping frustration.

Because truth is he finds you insufferable, overly stubborn with a spark of determination in your gaze, yet his want is uninhibited, crawling to you with licks of temptation and he pretends to be stronger than any of it. That the way you laugh so loudly is enough exasperation for his lust to abate. He pretends that you being so pretty doesn’t matter as much, that the innocence clinging to the edges of your smile like you haven’t been tainted by the evil of the world is only a rarity he finds in you.

It pulls him right into you and yet away from all his logical thinking. He finds himself being thrown back and forth in the overwhelmingly profound walls of his brain.

He’s never met someone who irritates him as much as you do so how is it that he craves you this bad?

Jake’s hiding is deep-rooted and so you remain unaware of it all.

“yn can you hand me Jake’s shirt? It’s on the rack behind you.” Sunghoon speaks, words cutting into the pregnant silence that had spread around the room. It hangs heavy that you don’t ever hear him.

Your mind stolen with the wandering of your eyes, dipping to Jake’s hand clad in rings. They’re nothing sort of enticing and yet you find yourself transfixed, unable to process anything that’s going around you and unable to look away from him.

It’s tremendously inequitable how he looks like he ambled out of a painting carefully coming to life by a starstruck lover. It’s aggravating how he’s a sculptor’s approximation of a person. You’re sure he’s been sipping on angels’ tears in his past life because there’s no way for him to be real otherwise and even when the angel is walking towards you with so much force in his steps, his wings dripping with glittering gold covers the floor and a couple of broken hearts cling to his lashes, you hold your breath. It’s in the faint scars adoring the palm of his hands.

It’s so absurd how could it be possible for something so tarnished to hold onto so much beauty? How is he so captivatingly attractive?

When Jake leans over you, his body mere centimeters and your face is almost buried in his chest. Your heart pulses against your ribs, eyes widening in surprise.

“Focus bunny,” he says with a stern look in his eyes, pulling back and the shirt Sunghoon had asked for in his arms.

You’re unable to come up with something to say. Your mind a blank when Jake takes his shirt off. His skin comes to view like whiplash to your face and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle.

It has your cheeks heating up, you fumble with the end of your rope.

One slip, all it took was one slip and you’ve fallen.

“Can you leave us alone?” Jake’s voice breaks into your clouds of thoughts and you swallow. Standing up and with too much of shakiness in your legs, you head for the door.

“Not you bunny. Sunghoon leave.” The latter looks between you two, taking note of the tension that seems to follow you two. It’s fatuous yet Sunghoon complies.

“What’s with you?” He stands before you, arching a brow at you and you linger by the door. Toying with the hem of your skirt and avoiding his gaze. The same one that is dancing across your figure appetitively.

“What?” You don’t mean to snap at him, but you do and his face hardens enough to chip enamel.

“Don’t start giving me attitude now.”

You sigh, a breath of exhaustion as you try to regain some pieces of sanity that the lines on his abdomen stole. Your eyes lolling everywhere but him.

“Sorry I’m just having a bad day.”

“you’ve been having a bad day for the last two weeks?” he asks sarcastically, followed by a scoff that tugs at your anger so easily. Yet you keep quiet.

“Get your shit together yn. you’re only making this harder for everyone else.” He adds bitterly, scrutinizing your futile attempts at avoiding his eyes. maybe because you know he’s right that anger finally sinks its teeth in you, and you don’t resist it. Locking eyes with him with a newfound raising flame.

“It’s not like you’re making it any fucking easier for me.”

“Don’t cuss at me.”

“I’m not cussing at you.”

He pauses, his gaze flickers for a mere moment that it’s enough to have you slipping yet again. As if you have been standing on slippery glass all along, barely hanging on by his avoidance and a simple darkening of a shade is enough to weaken you. eluding the depths of your desire to the surface. The wall of tension builds alarmingly fast, it’s in the way Jake’s eyes follow your lips.

“My job isn’t to make anything easier for you. so, if you feel like it’s too much you can leave.”

“I’m not leaving.” Your voice wavers slightly, mimicking the buckling of your knees.

“Then take it.” You wither away in silent indignation, so intense it feels seared on you and it only grows, peeking over the now mountain of tension. So leaden, it only intensifies when Jake’s takes slow steps towards you. A playful glint has taken its claim in his eyes, like he had won a contest you didn’t agree to be a part of. When he’s close enough he brings attention to your lips with his index finger.

“And take care of this mouth too yeah?” like splashes of wine your cheeks grow red in color and Jake’s lips tilt upwards in a troublesome smirk “behave bunny.” His words are meaningless, a passing empty thought he throws right at your face and when you sputter for a response. Swaying with shaking hands to gather your discomposure that he abandons as he walks past you.

It’s a blunder, one that will have you mourning your dignity right after and yet like a fool who stumbled upon a dazzling cup filled with sparkling poison you drink up. The devil and angel are entangled with sin when the words tumble out your lips;

“You take care of it then,” you turn to look at him and he looks back with the same vigor spilling from his eyes, like a river running down the route of lust.

“If you hate it this much then take care of it.”

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides, it stretches agonizingly slow that you almost feel an overly determined urge to melt onto the floor you’re standing on.

Your mind careens over your own words yet when Jake takes a tentative step towards you, his eyes search yours for crumbles – you hope are heavenly enough to have him breaking and you didn’t just offer yourself to refusal. You don’t evade it, instead you allow yourself a few seconds to savor the intoxicating tension.

No one has ever looked at you with this much want before and so you forget the ability to breath like tiny million sparkling stars are falling from the darkness of his eyes and right into in the lodge of your throat, so sharp and rigid and they’re bright, so bright it lights up your insides. Like lightness have found an abandoned cave –

And because Jake burns first, so frighteningly fast like melted candle wax. Your inside twist when his lips meet yours in desperation that emerges a gasp from you

- They fucking explode.

Your lips move against each other with famish, a thirst nestled so deep in both of you it can only be quenched by your kiss. His hand is on the curve of your jaw and yours form fists in the lines of his shirt. The pressure of his mouth upon yours renders your mind a foggy mess. So much so that when he moves you against the door, your back hitting it harshly you follow with no reluctance. Another pretty gasp escapes you at the impact and it gives his tongue access to your mouth.

A light moan falls from you, as the kiss deepens the bridges of your noses slide together and with a mind of their own his hands are like phantoms travelling over your body, palming your breasts over your shirt. your every sense becomes overwhelmed with his lips, his touch.

“Are you clean?” he pulls away briefly and you whine, eyes heavy lidded as they chase after his lips again. As if your cells need him to live as opposed to oxygen.

“What?”

“I’m going to fuck you so are you clean?”  you blink at him, the fog clearing up for a moment and you almost frown close enough to take offense if your underwear sticking to you with wetness isn’t growing annoying,

“I’m clean,” you murmur, almost doused in shame that you don’t get to linger in before he’s diving back into you. his lips finding yours with fervor and the air bleeds red with desire.

With his hands down your underwear, he lightly brushes to tease at the wetness. Lips quirking in something akin to egoistical pride. And your expression turns sour despite the incontrollable bucking of your hips against his unmoving fingers.

“How come you’re this wet already?” he’s imprinting the words upon your cheeks, leaning down to drop the same bruising kisses to the skin of your neck and collarbone, drawing a map of possible regrets.

“I’m horny and I haven’t been fucked in weeks what did you expect?” you sneer, and his chuckles vibrates against your neck.

When he goes back in to kiss you, you feel your cognitive facilities shut down. Your hands with a mind of their own travel across his body, in his hair like you’re running on a time ticking bomb, and you need to feel every inch of him before it explodes.

“Get on the couch.” He whispers against your lips.

“You don’t have enough stamina to do it standing up?” you tease, a playful quirk of your lips that has his eyes darkening. You’re not sure if it’s anger or lust.

“Unless you want me to leave you like this you better zip it.”

Once you’re on the couch, he clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, his hands work fast on freeing his cock from his slacks and your mouth is falling apart with an open silent whimper when he runs the head of his cock down your covered slit. You pant into his mouth, spit dripping down your chin and you arch into him with a new sense of need coloring your moans.

“Hurry,” you mumble against his lips, your embarrassment shows plainly on your face and Jake only smirks at you.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your skirt and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of fabric around you. he slides your panties down your legs just enough to have your pussy on display for him. Jake’s eyes are feral and heavy as it trails over your figure, so intensely deep it has you squirming in your place. An uncontrollable need crawls over you mixing in with your frustration.

“Are you gonna fuck me like you said you would or are you gonna keep staring at me?” you huff, feeling your patience thinning.

His lips quirk upwards in flickers close to mockery as he smooths his hands over your legs, tad too gentle for your liking but when he’s looking up at you it’s not close to tender but rather like you had fallen right into the devil’s lap.

Just like he had planned all along.

He slowly sinks into your wetness, chuckling at how quickly your mouth falls open with a silent moan. He grinds into you, his own eyes falling shut at how your walls lock his cock inside of you and you’re more than grateful for that. Not wanting to be witnessed with a stupefied look on your face.

You want to – try to keep quiet as if a challenge had presented itself to you and you remain nothing but a too stubborn of a flower, refusing to be picked especially not by Jake Sim of all people and so you bite down on your lower lip. You almost taste the sweetness of victory on your lips and then it’s pulled so brutally away from you when the head of his cock hits that gummy spot and you convulse. Head falling back with a strangled moan.

“F-fuck-“ you clench around him and your hand scrambles for purchase in his locks, the other digging into the couch, the throbbing pain of your pinky long forgotten.

He falls forwards with a soft laugh, so melodic and unexpected it has your stomach twisting into knots you aren’t sure are nerves or pleasure. He buries his face in your neck as he sloppily drives his hips deeper into you and his lips draw a lazy map of salvia rather than actual kisses on the skin of your neck. It leads him right to your lips; the eye contact you hate so much transpires again. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony, it’s absolutely sinful.

“You were so talkative earlier, what happened bunny?” he whispers on top of your mouth, close enough to behold the want in your eyes. you attempt to glare at him and yet it melts right with your dignity with the touch of his fingers on your jaw, stopping you from looking away as he fucks into you harder “are you gonna thank me for taking care of it?” open mouthed kisses dot across your jawbone before lining his lips over yours, your chin in his hold as he thrusts into you.

When he leans back, you’re growing delirious, barely gripping into your remaining sanity when he smirks at you “come on say it.” He mumbles half-heartedly and you shake your head with a whimper, it echoes throughout his mind and ignites a bigger fire within. Curling into an ungodly soundtrack of sweaty bodies and the hankering to break you.

“Say thank you Jake for giving me your cock,” he mocks, his voice like devilish thorns against your skin and you push at his shoulder with a grunt.

“F-fuck you.” He doesn’t falter at the wavering of your voice, so debilitated compared to the way you glare at him and yet it turns him on even more.

He starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. It has your eyes rolling back into your head, mouth falling open with moans and whines- anything that could be good enough to indicate how he feels inside of you, how your cunt grips onto him in desperation for more, more, more.

You’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re struggling to breathe, struggling to control your sounds anymore. They spill over endlessly, and Jake knows they’ll be tattooed into his brain just like the first time he had heard music in his life. They will haunt him just like the clicks of a piano, so sweet, sugary sweet and addicting. He feels so good, inside of you, around you that tears start stinging in your eyes.

“Fuck- fuck Jake I’m coming oh- “you blabber.

“Shut the fuck up.” He presses his hand flat to your mouth, hushing you and pressing you further onto the couch and your eyes soften as you swallow, entranced by him. Your walls tighten around him and his tight grip falters but remains. His face is drenched in perspiration and so much want for you.

With the oxygen stolen from your lungs. Your breaths are quick and heaving and your body shakes in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm approaches quickly, building so intensely with the way his movements become jerky. Shooting your hand to your clit you work yourself up and further into the gates of iniquity. your whole body becomes taut, and you rock into your hands and chase after his cock. watching you melt under him is something Jake will be viciously proud of for a couple of days to come.

So much so that it’s almost an impossible challenge for him to pull out of you when his own high approaches dangerously overwhelming. With labored breaths, his eyes glued to your heaving figure. He spits on his hand and starts pumping his pulsating cock. His other hand scrambling for the tissues on the table and he sends himself over the edge. Your eyes are the only thing that he needs to fall.

As soon as the fog of lust clears up you feel a shift in the air. The gold and sparkles disappearing and washed away along with all the bent-up anger. Leaving behind nothing but a sliver of dullness and awkwardness that clings to your limbs. Jake moves from on top of you with a grimace. You watch him move to tidy himself up in almost blissful yet holding on by an ambiguous edge that tug at your heart painfully. When he looks at you, you don’t know why you almost feel like you want to disappear.

“Jay has been asking for you. Fix your hair before leaving I don’t want him knowing about this.”

Oh. Oh. It shouldn’t be a surprise to you that he doesn’t want anyone to know about this and you do realize how inappropriate all of this is and yet you still stumble into a bitter feeling. An old picture starts burning in your mind, the same one of you falling into desperate repetition of a prayer to someday be good enough to keep and not a sparkling piece of art that holds no actual value.

“I’m gonna leave first.” Jake speaks into your growing silence and the click of the door is the only indication of him leaving.

You don’t know how long you stay there on the couch. A couple of hundred emotions take over you, guilt, anger, regret, and shame. So much shame and all it took was one slip to throw you into the maze of agony so familiar yet so frigid and cold.

When you walk out of the room you run into Jay right away like a mockery of the devil you’re growing sick of playing with. There’s a knowing smirk spreading across his face as he studies you, one that you don’t get to see because you’re so busy looking anywhere else.

“You and Jake had a good talk? Sorted out the tension?”

“Yeah, all good.” You mumble almost inaudible as you push past him with a burning face.

Jake watches the interaction between you two with intense attention. His eyes betray him as they follow your figure almost religiously. and when Jay strolls to him with a shit-eating smile plastered across his face., Jake groans sinking down into his chair and hoping to somehow vanish.

“Don’t even fucking start,”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Jay retorts with a laugh.

“I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

Jake’s hiding is deep-rooted and so you remain unaware of it all.

Once you’re one step in your apartment the sounds of all the too familiar trio have your shoulders deflating even further if possible. Despite your immense love for them the need for a quiet night after the hectic day you had is bigger. You can kiss it goodbye now.

“Hey,” Niki greets you as soon as your figure is in the living room, the other two sitting next to him on the couch turn from the tv to you as well and you force a smile upon your face despites the aching in your body,

“Hey guys,”

“Heeseung is helping me get to plat.” Jungwon tells you, eyes brimming with joy. It has your chest enveloping with warmth. a breath of fresh air like you’ve been choking all day. On your thoughts and on lingering stares

“Slay.” You ruffle his hair as you pass by him and into the kitchen, gravitating towards a glass of wine that you’re sure your soul needs.

“Are you okay?” Niki asks, eyes dancing across your features. Your mind clutters full of the earlier events and you down your glass of wine in a moment.

“I’m perfect.” You reply, pouring yourself another glass and running away from the concern lacing Niki’s eyes “I’m gonna take a bath and call it a day. Don’t trash my apartment.” You call out to them as you start heading towards your room.

“Without me?” Heeseung says from behind you, you ignore him and the only thing you hear before closing your door is the impact of Niki’s hand hitting his head and a loud ‘Ouch’ following.

The darkness of your room welcomes you, in a rather unexpected coldness that has you wondering what home really is. It’s all so stupid, and yet you wonder why you feel like a hole had opened right under you. staring at your glass of wine you feel like the air, not free but hallow.

One slip was all it took.

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[rebelliousstories]

What Did You Say?

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,406

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Norm was speechless. That alone was highly unusual for him as he did not get speechless, simply he did not voice every thought that pops into his head. But here he sat, without a thought to voice, and a mouth with which to do it. He did not process the fact that his wife was slowly loosing her smile, and instead of excitedly bouncing, she was shifting nervously.

“What’s going on in your head, sweetheart?” She asked, concerned for her husband’s wellbeing. In the entire time that they had been married, or even had known each other, she had never known him to be this paralyzed.

“Are you sure?” Sure, it was not the best thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to him.

“Of course I’m sure. The doctor checked me a couple days ago,” she moved to hold his hands. “Norm, we’re having a baby.” While she held out hope that at some point he would get excited with her, that hope was draining by the second.

“And it’s mine?” Again, it was not the best thing to come out of his mouth because her look turned sour really quick.

“Are you accusing me of something, Norman?” Her voice was no longer sweet; this was a dangerous growl.

“No, no. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m just- we’re having a baby?” He was still not on the same plane of existence as her.

“Yes, Norm. We’re having a baby. I thought you’d be excited, or joyful, or even able to crack a darn smile. What is going on with you?” She was starting to tip over into yelling and their vault doors could only do so much sound proofing.

“No I’m- I mean, yes I… just,” he stammered, “I’m just not sure this is the best time.” He murmured, and began to fiddle with his hands.

“Well, it’s apparently a perfect time according to our bodies. Ever heard the expression, ‘it takes two to tango’? I didn’t make a baby by myself.” It felt like such an obvious observation, and yet, she felt like she was trying to talk to a child.

“I know that, I’m just. I’m not sure I’m fit to be a dad. I’m just gonna-” and he took off. Opening their door, Norm left their little humble home to go off to who knows where. Slouching to the floor, she held her stomach and cried. Sure people got scared to be parents but they did not run out on their pregnant wives while doing so? Thoughts ran wild in her head with Norm gone. Would she end up being a single mother? She knew that divorce was a thing but no one in the last two hundred years had one in the vaults. If someone was a single parent, it was because one parent had died.

Her sobs continued well into the night. Even when dinner time came, she ate alone; staring at the empty seat but a full plate where Norm would sit. She went on with her nightly routine as if nothing was wrong, as if half of her world was not missing. The bed felt too big now without her husband. As she lay in bed, she could not help but to let the tears come once again. She cried herself to sleep without even realizing it, and was only awoken by the morning bell. Her husband’s side was still together, even if she had taken his pillow to provide some comfort for herself.

She went about her breakfast routine, but was quickly sent to vomit when she smelled the eggs and bacon she had prepared. Coming out, nothing looked amiss, and she set about making toast. Toast would be safe to eat.

An executive decision was made for her, by her, to stay in for the day. She could afford a day off with the evening she had. A lot of her time was spent reading, or staring at the door. As much as she did not like him right now, she still loved her husband and wanted him by her side. The notification came through her pip-boy from the doctor about her ultrasound appointment today. It almost felt bittersweet. On one hand, she did not feel like inviting Norm to the appointment with how he was acting. But on the other hand,he was still her husband and the father of her child. He deserved the choice at least.

The forwarded message came across the gear that was on Norm’s arm, and he was shocked. After he ran away last night like a coward, he did not expect this from his wife. Norm saved the appointment onto his pip-boy for later use and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You alright, son?” Hank asked of his boy, bringing over two mugs. The one with tea was set in front of the younger MacLean, while his dad drank his allotted amount of coffee.

“Just grappling my thoughts. She sent me a notification of a doctor’s appointment this evening, but I don’t even know if she really wants me there.” Norm admitted, fiddling with his hands underneath the table.

“If I remember one thing about your mother, is that during both of her pregnancies, her hormones made her a ball of emotions. You could say the grass was green and she would burst out crying.” Hank chuckled, and took another sip while his son just sat there.

“There was a time where she was so angry with me that I didn’t like the name that she picked for her top name for you, that I was kicked to the couch for two days.” This made Norm perk up.

“So what did you do? How did you fix things with her?” He asked, eager to hear the rest of the story.

“I went with her to your final ultrasound. Didn’t hold her hand or anything, but once we say you fully formed, she reached for my hand and said, ‘Norman, that’s what we’ll call him.’” His dad chuckled as he finished the story, and gained a sad look in his eyes.

“So what should I do?” Norm asked, finally taking a sip of his tea.

“If it were me, I’d go to the appointment. No matter how mad she is now, she’ll be worse if you miss that.” A timer dinged and as they looked for the source of the sound, they realized it was Norm’s pip-boy. Hs reminder for the appointment came up and he dashed out of the door without another word. Norm walked briskly to the doctor’s office, and tried not to run; no matter how much he wanted to.

By the time he got there, he saw her head dip into a room, that he somehow managed to catch. Norm saw her unzipping her vault suit, and rolling up her white shirt when he opened the door. He let out a breath that he did not realize he was holding and came over to help her.

“You came.” She stated, resting her hands on his face.

“I came.” He repeated, holding her body close to his in a crushing hug.

“I’m ready to be a dad.” Norm whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. It made her heart swell to hear those six little words come from his lips. The couple pulled away right as the doctor came in.

“Oh, hello Norm. Here to see the missus and the kiddo?” She spoke jovially, setting down her equipment to get started. Rubbing the cold gel on the mom-to-be’s belly, she held the wand against it to start looking inside. norm remained silent as he stared at the screen with a little black and white mage starting to emerge.

“There they are. That’s their leg, and arm. The beginnings of their head and organs and, oh wait. There’s their head. No, wait.” The doctor spent a minute looking intensely at the screen which freak the MacLean’s out just a little bit.

“Oh, okay. Not to worry.” She spoke finally.

“Why? What’s going on?” Mrs. Maclean was confused and concerned as she tried to sit up, only to be held down gently by her doctor.

“No, everything is okay. There are two heads. You’re having twins. Congratulations.” Once more, she held a happy tone as she went back to the screen. Yet again, Norm spoke without thinking it through.

“What did you say?”

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF (5)

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# CHAPTER 5 : Someone He Loved Once

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# notes : a beefier chapter than last time to apologize for the long wait!!!! happy 20k words to lotlt ♡ ( 6025 words )

-: ✧ :-゜・． MASTERLIST <- click me!

It's impossible to pick yourself back up when everything good about your life revolved around him.

was it unhealthy? yes

but you can't help it.

TO SAY THAT THE JOURNEY WAS BORING WAS AN UNDERSTATEMENT— it was uneventful, dare you even say completely and utterly mundane. The never-ending corridors of plain, jagged, gray stone walls surround you as the scenery remains unchanging despite the hundreds of miles you have trudged on.

It has come to the point that your mind has coiled in on itself, where the even the smallest sights of slightly damp walls— or quite even the appearance of moss on the walls was enough to keep you entertained. Any slight change in the rigid texture and cracks in the walls were enough to bring you slight joy. You have begun to stray a good distance away from the rest of the party, taking your time running your fingers on the walls.

Mostly because you didn’t want to be hit in the face with the fact that you are now considered an outsider in regards to their party— as well as be faced to face with a clear view of Kabru from behind, chatting away with Rin.

So instead, you sought after lonesome comfort in the grooves of the wall.

Those miniscule changes in the terrain were the only landmarks to signal that, hey! You’re not running around in circles chasing after your own tail.

You are immensely grateful that someone had taken the time to hack and slash through the overgrown, poisonous tentacles that littered the spiral staircase between the floors. Without their efforts, you wouldn't have ever dared to venture below your usual rounds.

And then there were the frogs.

The enormous, very big, and I mean, very big frogs that inhabited this area.

You couldn't help but shudder at the sheer image of their bulging eyes and the almost neon color of their skin.  Why would you ever look at a frog that is basically neon orange and say— oh yeah! That’s perfectly fine to pass down here, with the orange frogs!

Shouldn’t it be basic knowledge at this point that the wilder, and more colorful something is, it’s most probably deadly?

Well, nothing about a dungeon is safe…

You find yourself torn between two intense emotions. On one hand, you want to shower the unknown adventurer who cleared the path with gratitude, for being the sole reason why you ever dared to venture down here. While on the other hand, there's a burning urge to skewer them with your staff and roast them over an open fire, cursing them for initiating this chaotic butterfly effect that led to your current situation.

 It was driving you insane.

You start to wonder why you ever bothered to become an eager adventurer of the dungeon, taking on extreme life or death risks for the sake of a couple of gems and coins— and even possibly nothing but the sweet satisfaction of taking down a formidable foe.

However, that sweet, delicious taste of victory was not enough to bring food to the table.

Could it be worth the satisfaction that came from telling your tales to other adventurers, to earn their respect? Forget about it.

Because despite how gruesome, treacherous and relentless your stories of your adventures are; they will always just be, and forever will be, tales to them. It could possibly score you a couple hears from the wandering children, with their awe-struck gazes and wild imagination— accompanied by promises and wishes of ‘I want to be just like you one day!’ before getting ushered away by their parents.

 The adults do try their best not to dampen their aspiring dreams, and childlike wonder but you could always tell their non-believing expressions.

However, the masses in hearing range of your tales tell a different story. They only bother to stifle a laugh using the palms of their hands, eagerly whispering to each other. Because, without proof of your vigilant victory; you are nothing but a made-up fool, full of nothing but tales pulled straight from your ass.

In short, you’re full of shit until you can prove it.

You would rather not drag an entire dragon corpse up to the surface, let alone its own skull. It’s too much labor, for a measly pat on the back.

A ‘Good Job!’ is not worth the possibility of you developing either a strain, scoliosis or carpal tunnel— or possibly even all three at once.

It was either, go big or go home.

Or die trying.

You sigh, softly shaking your head around like a tree wishing to drop the fruits of your worrying mind. Gaze drifting across to the rest of the party, who’s mundane conversations fall silent in your ears. You drag your feet reluctantly behind them, watching as your sluggish actions lead to a greater distance. Your usual skip, and pep to your step has long vanished— alongside the great desire for a fresh new adventure.

Your nails scratch at the rocky, rough walls. It left white, powdery streaks along the way. However, the sensation of the constant vibrations being sent through your fingertips quickly began to infuriate you.

You cringe at the feeling, quickly retracting your arm back to your sides— trying to shake off the icky feeling that floods though your skin.

Eerily slow footsteps trailed behind, accompanied by a low, guttural groan that seemed to vibrate through the air. You anxiously patted around your stomach, wondering if your gut was busy (and noisy) complaining. You haven’t necessarily stopped to eat for a good while, so it wasn’t that outrageous for it to suddenly grumble.

However, the sound was unsettling, and you clenched your teeth out of sheer embarrassment, eyes darting towards the rest of the party. They were still a decent distance away, so you crossed your fingers and swore on your heart, hoping they didn’t hear a thing.

Why was it so loud? It echoed, not feeling the typical shake and waver in your stomach as it continued. How long as it really been since you last ate? Minutes? Hours? Days?

Luckily, they all seemed completely unaffected by the sudden sound. It would’ve been shocking— and extremely embarrassing— if they heard your stomach from that far away.

Also, were your footsteps always that dense sounding? You halt for a second, looking below at your footwear— taking a few experimental taps on the floor, and possibly trying a couple of tap-dancing moves that you saw in front of a saloon once.

…

If you were the one up on that stage, you would’ve ended up walking away in shame while covered head to toe in tomatoes.

You stop before anyone ends up becoming the unfortunate fool who turns around and becomes the witness of your… undesirable dance moves. God, what would Kabru think if he saw you?

Disregard that. He’s already, and very unfortunately, been the unlucky witness to your dancing. Back when the music and gleeful chatter of the local festivals was just about enough to get you moving and knocking on his door—wearing your best, flowy attire for the occasion.

 You dragged him out to the central area of the village, your hand clasped around his wrist, looking back occasionally to smile at him out of sheer excitement. The village square was alive with vibrant colors, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the aroma of freshly baked goods. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow on the cobblestone streets.

The music alone suddenly made you want to jump around with glee, stomping around with the little grace you had.

 You couldn't ever forget his face when you first turned your head over your shoulder. You were too busy in your own little world when you tugged him away, but Kabru...

 Oh, Kabru.

He was the most beautiful sight you have ever seen in your entire life.

 Not even the greenest, vastest, and prettiest of valleys full of flowers for miles could rival his face in that moment. Everything stopped; it was as if time and space itself had unanimously agreed to pause for him and him only.

He looked at you, and only you. From his gaze alone, it spoke millions of words. It was a whole confession in itself.

 His eyes were wide, mouth agape, his hair perfectly tussled by the wind, the sun shining bright into his eyes. His cheeks were flushed with a delicate blush, a stark contrast to the golden glow of the setting sun.

 Kabru was like a painting brought to life; a piece of art that is timeless through decades, one that requires to preserved and passed down through generations— due to his beauty alone.

He was being tugged around by his heartstrings, twiddled with by your gentle fingers. His breath hitched with every step, his awe-stricken gaze never leaving your figure despite every stone or pebble he trips up on.  

…

It served as a painful reminder that once in your life, Kabru loved you for you. For the sake of breathing the same air as you— for the sake of merely existing with you. No matter how rough around the edges you are, no matter who you were.

He still loved you once.

Even when you barely knew how to waltz, despite the sheer confidence you had at the beginning as you tugged him toward the heart of the village, joining the bustling crowd full of dancing townspeople.

Even when he had the whole dance engraved in his brain for all his life, he still offered a genuine smile to you as you tumbled and staggered around. His eyes would crinkle at the corners, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, as he watched you fumble with the steps.

Even when your disorganized feet ended up crushing his own under your shoes, or when you fell forward and crashed into his chest after another couple pushed you from behind—he still smiled. His hands, deliberate and gentle, would take yours and guide you through the dance. The warmth of his touch sent chills down your spine, steadying you, grounding you.

He chuckles as he twirls you around by your waist, watching as you struggle to keep up with the pace— but still catching you with his hand pressed into the dip of your back.

Kabru’s patience was infinite, his laughter a consistent cushion to your embarrassment. His presence alone was a comforting.

His eyes downturned, with a gentle and gleeful air to him. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh, cool evening air, which almost drove you insane. One that made you want to kiss him, over and over until his lips turn blue— dragging him by his cheeks towards you until you end up tumbling all over the floor.

Even when the world felt chaotic and your steps were unsure, Kabru’s love was a constant.

He accepted you, not just as his partner, not just as a friend— but accepted you as a person.

He found beauty in your flaws.

But only once.

For now, he has seen the ugly in your flaws.

And you have, too.

Due to you dwelling on your miserable daydreaming, you ended up taking slower and fewer steps than usual. The groans, the dense footsteps that stagger with each step— they don’t stop.

Instead they grow closer,

louder.

Until a pair of hands dig into your shoulders, or more so, whatever is left of its rotten, foul-smelling fingers. The stench surpassed any smell you had ever had the displeasure of smelling. The nails are unruly and unkempt, some already lost to the relentless rot, leaving behind raw, exposed patches of skin on the fingers. It made you gag, feeling it’s intense grip onto your shoulders.

You yelp, lunging forward as you frantically shrug off its deathly grip. Your feet stagger as you began falling forward— your hands catching the floor in front of you in a swift motion. Using your staff for support, you desperately push yourself back onto your feet, twisting your body to face the ghoul. You stagger, feeling yourself struggling to breathe.

 The body it had inhabited was rotten beyond recognition, so decayed that it seemed on the verge of becoming a skeleton. The skin had peeled and melted away, revealing patches of bone beneath. You doubt that the corpse contained any vital organs anymore; it was just a miserable skeleton wrapped in whatever is left of its skin.

With enough fear and adrenaline to kill a man, you raise your staff just high enough to aim straight at its chest. Your grip is firm, though your mind is frazzled beyond measure. Your hands thrust the wooden staff forward, with enough force for it to push against its chest and scoot it backwards. It lets out a loud groan as  you twist it deeper, the sound of fragile bones and skin being crushed beneath it.

 With a quick blast from your staff, it separates the ghost from the unfortunate victim.

The force of the sudden attack was enough to send you flying, you may have overreacted a little. Using an attack meant for larger crowds of more, formidable foes.

Actually, you overreacted a lot.

It only set in fully once you saw yourself inches from the ground, feet set free in the air.

You hit the rough floor with a skidding thud, groaning as you watch the ghost dissipate into the air. The body it had previously possessed falls forward, with an echoing thud. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart still racing from the encounter.

Your face contorts into disgust as you stare at the dead body only inches away from your feet. You use your staff to gently push its face away from letting its empty eye sockets stare back at you, however you soon regret the decision.

The push resulted in a loud cracking noise, which made you wince and scoot away from your current position.

‘Did I end up breaking its neck…?!’ You panic internally.

“Are you okay?” A frantic shriek rips through the air, alongside the quick thud of footsteps that suddenly crowd around you. It was almost cartoonish, to say the least— like mice to a piece of cheese.

Except you’re the cheese that didn’t bother checking your surroundings, despite the obvious sound cues that there was something trailing behind you. You began skimming through the contents of your brain to look out for a good excuse as to why you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

When… That was basically your whole job and responsibility after you chose to stay a great distance behind the party.

“Yeah, just fine. I just got caught off guard, is all.” You try to cushion the throbbing pain in your spine and bottom with gentle laughter, waving your hand around in the air to swat away their worries. It didn’t help to ease their concerned expressions, instead worrying them even more as their frowns and confused faces worsen.

You didn’t bother dwelling on their general reaction, however…

You couldn’t get yourself to ignore the fact that Kabru was the first one to come running to you.

You couldn’t shake off the chill in your spine either, when he suddenly slowed down to trail behind the rest of the party before he could get too close.

‘Curse you, Kabru and your stupid mixed signals …!’

“That was definitely far from ‘just caught off guard,’ with that powerful of a blast, you could’ve ended up wiping out an entire army of ghouls...!” Rin gawks at your nonchalant behavior, overriding her usual scowl etched onto her face. Her eyebrows soften, turning upwards as she leaves her jaw wide open. She was genuinely concerned. Which honestly shocked you more than the ghoul did.

Maybe she should keep the scowl.

She is way too beautiful when she isn’t scowling.

“I do admit that I overreacted to the situation.” You flutter your eyes shut, chuckling. “But to be honest, I just got really shocked when it suddenly grabbed me.” Your gaze averts away from their prying eyes, your nails digging and scratching the soft skin in the nape of your neck.

You really, really wished that you hadn’t defended yourself in that moment. Instead, you wished that you had instead been killed by that same ghoul.

Just so you wouldn’t have to sit there pathetically as they all stared at your embarrassed misery. You understood their concern, but it honestly tore you into shreds as your whirring mind fed more and more degrading comments into your self-conscious.

And you hated it.

You hated every second of it.

It was no secret to you that you had always secretly wished to find yourself in this exact situation. The strange, deep warmth in your heart grew stronger when they gather around you. Their concerned gazes, the way their lips curved downwards in worry, and their comforting grasps that made your heart race. Alongside that one stare that pierced through you, reaching down to your very bones.

You once secretly yearned to be vulnerable in front of them, to finally command their undivided attention. It was a bittersweet wish that you, unfortunately, craved deeply during those lonely nights.

But once it finally happened to you, the feeling of déjà vu was sickening. It was bitter and distasteful, a moment that only filled you with raged as they all caught you red handed with your tail between your legs (and your unfortunately sore butt cheeks). It made you angry, and it makes you so much more frustrated not knowing why.

Could it have been the possibility of them doubting you?

Could it have been you interpreting their concern as them looking down on you?

Or could it all just have been the look on Kabru’s face?

This distant gaze, unreasonably unreadable and filled with stoic indifference— stayed monotone throughout the entire time. His lips pressed into a firm, unyielding line. His eyes half-lidded, unfocused as it represented his evident detachment as he stared down below to look at your form sprawled out on the cold floor. Though buried in the crowd of others, his presence lingering in the back, he still stood out the most.

With what little time you allotted for yourself to stare, you still found yourself digging around his cold expression— desperate to get a taste of, even a sliver of concern on his face.

…

And to your, fortunate?

…Unfortunate?

Let’s stick to unfortunate.

…

To your unfortunate dismay, you did.

The typical person would have never read through his stoic expression right in the moment, nor even put too much thought into his— currently irrelevant— presence.

But you?

Oh, you could see right through him. Beyond all his superficial 'people-pleaser, number one manipulation tactic' masks that he uses to puppet himself through and into people’s hearts, there was always a sliver of a crack that you could stare into.

That one figurativecrack you always seemed to be drawn to, one that dug in so deep that it leads straight into his heart and soul.

You can’t seem to stop yourself from diving back into old habits.

You found yourself lost in the maze of conflicting emotions swirling within the deep hue of his eyes. His intense, half-lidded eyes locked onto yours with an almost desperate focus— lost in time and in the deep sea of your own gaze.

His lips quivered but only slightly. One that made you think that he had the urge to speak out, to ask if you’re okay. But his voice falls silent by his tongue, full of words that never seem to dare go past his lips.

Kabru’s face, oh his face.

His eyes downturned and heavy with unspoken words, softened the moment you met his stare, creating an unspoken connection that lingered in the air between you.

It made you so irrationally angry.

It made you want to curse at the gods above for ever granting you the ability to connect with him more than anyone else would. The ability to read and break through his charades as the fool, and instead see him as himself.

It felt like a curse right in this moment.

But why?

Isn’t this what you had always wanted?

It was. It really was.

You hated that he still cared. You hated it so much. You hated it so much to the point that you wanted to kill him, to skin him— to gut him from the inside out. You wanted him to just explode right in that moment. The fact that he cared, and the fact that you’ll always and forever will know that he does.

...You hated how it made you feel.

You hated the sudden racing pace of your heartbeat, the way it rung in your ears like a distant drum. You hated the sudden numbness that possesses each nerve in your body, limb to limb. You hated the way your head spun, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes away from him.

You clench your teeth, lips sealed together to prevent yourself from baring them. Squeezing your eyes shut in desperation, opening them to keep your gaze locked onto anyone— anything but him.

Luckily, your eyes met with an outstretched palm— tearing your gaze away from the rigid floor, you found yourself looking into the concerned eyes of Holm.

His eyes were soft, reflecting a genuine worry that contrasted with the cold, unforgiving surroundings. You sighed, offering him a small, grateful smile before hesitantly placing your hand in his. With a firm tug, he helped you back onto your feet, his strength steadying you as you staggered back up.

As you dust yourself off free from any dirt, Holm provides you with a couple of pats in the dip of your back.

“But seriously though, how come you didn’t notice? If it was that close to you for it to be able to grab you, you should have heard it coming. I doubt it was that close in the first place …” Holm teases, shrugging his shoulders as he stares at you from the side. The rest of the party unanimously agree with his sentiment, suddenly growing more and more suspicious over your situation.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fumbling with the fabric of your shirt. “I was… lost in thought for a bit. I wasn’t paying too much attention to my surroundings, must be the fatigue getting to me.”

You look back down, flinching as your feet instinctively shuffle away from the lifeless body sprawled on the floor. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, an insatiable itch settling down your throat full of prickly unease. Goosebumps rise on your skin, the unsettling reality finally seeping into you. The body lies still and inanimate, haunting you.

“Is there any chance to… revive that guy?” Mickbell winces, taking a couple careful steps backwards. He accidentally backs up and into Kabru’s chest, who places his hands on his shoulders and gently redirects him.

"It's possible... but at this point, I doubt there's any hope for him. His bind to his soul is so weak, and his physical body is rotten beyond recognition. It would take a lot of calories and meat to basically rebuild all his missing parts, not to mention that he already feels hollow inside." You sigh, running your hand through the stray hairs that obscure your vision.

You use the butt of your staff to roll the corpse over to lay on its back, wincing at the thick ‘thump!’ sound that comes from the body. You deliberately pull back at the bottom of his shirt, rolling it upwards as the inner skeleton and ribs show itself to you. The organs are disgustingly missing.

"Putting him out of his misery is pointless since his soul will always stay trapped inside this dungeon. Taking him to the surface for a proper burial won't honor anything because we don't have anything to properly identify the body..." you mumble. You recall the pads of his fingertips, either completely lacking skin or scarred to the point of interfering with the fingerprints.

Mickbell shifts uneasily, rolling a pebble from beneath his boot. "So... we just leave him here then?" He grimaces, his expression worsening the longer he stares at the decaying body.

"Sounds like the best option. Though we should at least cast a ward on him, so he doesn't get possessed again by a ghost, and let's cast some on ourselves for protection," Kabru suddenly speaks up. His voice is calm but firm, acting as a beacon of hope to lift the spirits of his party members. It took every cell and atom in your body not to roll your eyes, hating how mature he has become in time.

Kabru suddenly turns his head to face Holm, eyes wide and expectant, the urgency evident in his gaze. His eyes dart back and forth between Holm and the body, as if silently pleading with the gnome to understand his wordless request. Kabru tilts his head subtly, giving a nudge in the direction of the corpse. It was obvious he didn’t want to ask you to place the charms, despite his endless knowledge of your capabilities.

However, Holm throws his hands in the air as he shrugs off the sudden implications. He plays it off, acting completely oblivious at his desperate pleas.

“What are you looking at me for?”

Kabru’s confident stance wavers, the corner of his eye twitches as he tries to redirect the situation into one he deems is correct. As he always did.  

“Holm. Don’t you know how to…?” His voice is hesitant, almost mirroring a shaking fist as his soft voice tries to carry over the urgency and weight of the situation to Holm.  

“Huh? No, absolutely not. I’m not at all knowledgeable about those kinds of spells. If I tried, I’d probably end up casting a spell that attracts spirits to the body instead of warding them away,” Holm comments with a nonchalant shrug, his tone casual and dismissive. He rides off Kabru’s growing frustration with amusement.

It was a priceless moment, and you couldn't help but chuckle as you watched Kabru struggle to maintain his composure. You could almost see the exasperation radiating off him, picturing him internally throwing his head back, hands pressed to his face, and groaning in sheer frustration. The contrast between Holm's relaxed attitude and Kabru's barely contained and growing irritation was comical.

“Aren’t you like, a gnome? You’re the second leading race in the growing studies of magic education.” Kabru barks back, his polite tone wavering under the frustration. He grits his teeth beneath his smile, as if by saying that— Holm would magically learn the spell for it with the snap of his fingers. Or a page from your old grimoire would fall out, and Holm would read it for the 10 seconds it would be on the floor— then learn it.

“Hey, just because I am gnome doesn’t mean I should know everything!” Holm rebuked, a soft pout spreading on his lips as he did. He spreads his palms out, arms pressed as he waves his hands in defense for his lack of knowledge in that area.

Kabru remains to smile, however it was quite obvious to everyone that it was fake. His technique at hiding his irritation was faltering the more he began desperate to turn this situation into a favorable one. You could sense the race to his impending defeat, just from the sight of his strained expression.

His neck crooked as he suddenly turns to Rin, almost as if he were on his knees as he looked at her with pleading eyes— a last minute attempt to spindle this situation back into the strings under his control. “How about you, Rin?”

Rin blushes, much to your dismay. Dismissively turning her face away from him, scowling as her gaze instead dives into the world of the mossy dungeon walls. In response, she tucks an arm under her chest— the other making itself busy as it twirls her long, jet-black hair.

“I’m only skilled at offensive magic. My healing is only as good as any beginner mage, just the basics.” She replied with a scoff, almost hinting that she wished she knew how— to be able to please Kabru and his desperate attempts to avoid you. If you were in her shoes in that moment, you would probably immediately fold and worship the ground he walks on.

Could you blame yourself for that though? As irritating his face could be, he looked so pathetic and desperate!

…

You cringe at your own thoughts.

“How about…” Kabru’s voice falters, his head snapping around in a frantic search. He locks eyes with Mickbell, then Kuro, and finally Daya, each of them turning their heads with a speed that seemed almost otherworldly. Daya crosses her arms in a firm ‘X’, her stance a clear, unspoken denial.

“Of course not,” Kabru mutters to himself, his frustration evident now. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed closed tightly as his eyebrows furrow, and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. His shoulders slump, and his hand rests on his hip as he begins to accept his defeat. It was clear now: there was no escape from you, and the weight of that realization settled heavily on him.

It all led back to you.

“C’mon! We finally got Y/N back in the party anyway, no need to worry about being harassed by ghouls. They know how to.” Mickbell threw his arms behind his back, walking up to Kabru to nudge him using his hip— trying to pull the male out of his defeated, slumped form.

“But...”

“No buts! The longer we take down here, the less time we have before another Ghoul pulls up on us!”

Kabru sighs. “Fine.”

His shoulders roll back into his typical confident stance, taking a deep breath for courage before finally looking back up at you. You’re dumbfounded, not thinking that the comedic scene would end up back into your hands like a… Game of ‘Hot Potato'.

You shuffle on your feet, feeling the sudden weight of responsibility on your shoulders. “So, Who’s first..?”

For some reason, the entire party (minus Rin, who seemed to have missed out on the memo) turns their heads toward Kabru in a perfectly choreographed movement. It was as if they had rehearsed this moment, their collective gaze ganging up on him on instinct.

Dare you even say, out of habit.

Rin, meanwhile, stands there looking dumbfounded, her eyes widening as she realizes she’s the only one still focused on you.

Kabru freezes, his face momentarily blank as he cushions his nervousness with a chuckle.

“No, no. I cannot…” he stammers, shaking his head vigorously in a futile attempt to dismiss the sudden peer pressure from his party members. His eyes dart around the hallway, searching desperately for an escape route.

“Daya! How about you? Ladies first!” Kabru exclaims, his voice dripping with desperation as he insists with a firm determination. He sprints behind the dwarven blonde, his hands gripping her shoulders. He shuffles her toward you, as if trying to nudge her into taking his place, his frantic actions seemingly feeding into Daya’s bemused expression.

“Don’t you al—” Daya starts, but is immediately silenced by his gloved hand. He laughs, trying to save himself by staring back into the other eyes of his teammates. Which, also made no impact as they all seemed to be unwilling.

Kabru groans internally, which he could curl up and die in that moment. Or, kill everyone and all possible witnesses to his vulnerable fear of interacting with you again.

Talking to you? Fine.

Looking at you? Fine.

You, touching him? He draws the line there.

But he can’t run away from the situation that he set up himself anymore. Instead he slumps his shoulders, dragging his feet as he makes his way in front of you. “Make it quick.” He whispers, aware of your tense shoulders.

You take a deep breath— your hands trembling slightly as you press your fingers against his forehead. The warmth of his skin contrasts sharply with the coldness of your touch, and you could feel him shiver beneath your palm. He squeezes his eyes shut, his hands clenching into tight fists as he tries to steady himself.

He could feel your breath on his face.

“Lifgant, Ardinbam” You mumble, feeling the soft tingle of mana flow through your veins and out your fingertips. To an outsider, it might seem like nothing is happening—no visible cues to indicate the spell's progress. Only the caster can truly understand what was going on, a magical sensation that could only ever be felt and remain unseen.

You hands lift off from the skin of his forehead, now instead firmly pressing up against his chest. Once you were sure that the blessing had been set in place properly, you gently halt the flow of mana, lifting your hands with a careful hesitation. Your fingertips graze over the worn leather of his chest plate, brushing lightly over his chest before withdrawing.

Your fingers curl back to your side, retreating from his chest with deliberate care. The subtle warmth of the magic lingers in the air, a faint, almost imperceptible residue of the spell’s power. As you let your hands fall, the delicate trace of magic remains, a barely-there whisper of the enchantment that has just been cast.

“All done,” you whisper, your voice breathless and soft. You take a step backward, your movement deliberate, allowing him the space he needs as you just partook in a… awfully weird and intimate moment with him.

Was it really though? You dare to question, but you can’t get yourself to ignore the roaring pang or desire that struck through your heart. Kabru hesitates in his movement, as if waiting for one last thing out of habit. You usually kissed him after. But, after keeping his stance and his eyes closed for a couple moments longer— he pulls away.

“Thank you,” Kabru slurred, his voice barely audible— it was gruff, as if all the saliva in his throat and mouth had dried up in that moment. He coughs, attempting to redo his comment to be able to say it smoothly in a second try.

“I mean, Thank you.” He echoes, meeting your gaze for a fleeting second before quickly turning away, retreating behind the others as if seeking refuge from the sudden vulnerability of the moment.

You extend a hand with a gentle wave, signaling for the next person in line to step forward. The gesture is both practical and reassuring, a silent invitation for them to come closer. Mickbell excitedly jumps up, almost completely compressing himself and scrunching his body mid-air— like a coiled spring. He almost stumbles over completely as he makes his way towards you, using his hand as a way to keep himself upright and avoid accidentally crashing into the floor.

The rest of the party, including you— chuckle at his eagerness to receive a simple blessing. The shared laughter lightens the mood, a welcome break from the tension. His eagerness, though a bit amusing, is endearing, and it brings a moment of relief to the group. You don’t ever wish to have it any other way.

Never in a million, no, a billion years.

It sparked a new happiness in your heart, a little hope that life may look better in the future. That maybe, just maybe— losing once is not the end of the world. Because in the long run, even the smallest of details (like Mickbell almost faceplanting into the floor, which you had to admit got a little chuckle out of you) would make you happy.

After all, simple joys in life can go a long way.

And maybe It was all you ever needed.

…

Though, It makes you begin to realize; this journey will take a lot longer than you thought it would.

What once was a ‘couple of days’ seemed to stretch out into weeks, and possibly for longer.

Though, it might not be as bad as you make it out to be.

A little hope wont hurt anybody.

.・。.・゜✭・ TAGLIST !

@sy1v30n @whatamidoing89 @meerpea @pop-ee104 @starriejin @valerayne @mshope16 @stefnarda @lovin-past @slightly-lonely-jonesy @auhokvam

and the lotlt spotify playlist!!!!! ♡ open to song suggestions ;p

[mistressroxielove]

Hey everyone~ I'm back, and this time with a new fixation!

Long story short, I've discovered the new Fairly Oddparents reboot, absolutely loved it and was inspired to make this AU idea for the show! With a slight reimagine/redesign of the characters as well. And the first one I decided to do was Peri!

Here's some more info about my AU:

Fairly Odd Parents AU/Rewrite

Au Name: FairlyOdd Brother

Summary:

Perri (previously known as Poof) recently graduated from Fairy Godparents School and is eager to start granting Wishes for his very own godchild! Only problem is that with his lack of experience Jorgen is weary of giving him an assignment and keeps finding excuses/reasons to not give him a godkid. Realizing it might be a 1,000 years before they give him a chance to be a Fairy Godparent, Perri decides he needs to be a little bold and perhaps, bend Da Rules, to get his foot in the door so to speak. And his answer comes to him from a new neighbor in his human home, a family with a sweet shy 10 year old girl who is absolutely miserable. Perhaps Perri might be able to offer this girl a little comfort and fun as her new Fairy Godbrother!?

(Basically the same premise of the show, except Perri’s first godchild is Hazel, and through a technicality in the rule book, becomes her god brother instead of her godparent.)

ALSO please note this AU is more of a slight reimagine of the original show, meaning I did tweaked / changed some of the characters personality to match the new story I made for them. Nothing majorly different, but again just a heads up before you read on. Hope you like it~

Name: Perri Poof Fairywinkle Cosma (He goes by Perri now but still keeps Poof as a middle name to honor it)

Age: Human equivalent of 22 years old

-Usually it takes at least 1,000 years for a fairy to grow from a baby to an adult, however since Poof spent his first couple of years being raised alongside Timmy, his body magically enhanced itself to basically go through a growth spurt and age as a normal human. But now that he’s fully mature he won't physically age anymore and will stay a 22 year old for at least a couple hundred thousand years.

Sex: Male

Physical Description:

Basically the exact same in the show, with the exception of some additional earrings and painted black fingernails, since it matches the semi new personality I gave him.

Personality:

-Similar to Cosmo Swavy car sale business man personality from the pilot.

-He’s a smooth talker with a deep rich voice to match, could sell a refrigerator to a eskimo

-Knows his way around rules and is always eager to grant wild and crazy wishes with the most imaginative interpretation possible, this eagerness to break rules can be a blessing and a curse, as this is what gets him in trouble the most

-Is a bit of a smart ass (But in a nice and lovable way), always has to have the last word, can be really petty when he’s mad

-Is really good a persuading people into doing things, though he doesn’t use this power to be malicious, only uses it to get small favors and mostly for Hazel to wish for crazy stuff, again it's never meant to be malicious

-Though he still has a lot to learn before becoming a godparent, he’s extremely sweet and caring to hazel and his friends, and will do anything to keep them safe and happy

-Is eager to proof himself to be useful and mature, is tired of every fairy treating him like a kid despite being older now

-Is a bit flamboyant and cares about his appearance, likes to paint his nails and wears earrings similar to his mother

-Though he does have a good head on his shoulders, he does have a tendency to interpret wishes in uniquely bizarre ways sometimes, something he inherited from his father.

Other fun facts:

-Peri really likes marine life/fishes, since he spent the first couple years of his life living as a fish, he has an appreciation for the creatures. And even has a pet goldfish!

-Despite being 22 years old, the fairy’s still treat him like a baby since a normal fairy baby would have taken at least 1,000 years to grow to maturity. This is what caused him to change his name, desperate to make the other fairy’s take him seriously and to not literally treat him like a baby

-Lives in an apartment building in the human world that is also connected to the fairy world, he’s the first of his kind to have a home like that. For most fairies it's extremely hard for them to ‘act human’ 24/7 which is why most prefer to turn themselves into childhood pets whenever they’re living with their god kid. As being human means they have to walk everywhere, not being able to use magic, and if they mess up once it could expose the existence of fairies and magical creatures in general. Peri however, once old enough to move out of his parents house was vocal that he wanted to live among the humans. He told Jorgen and the fairy council he wanted to live there to understand humans better to be a better godparent to them, but he mostly did it because he missed earth. Missed all the stuff that he grew accustomed to when he was a kid and also likes being able to find people ‘his own age’ to talk and relate to. After his endless demands and persuasion the council finally budge and allowed him to live on earth. But was warned if he was ever discovered to be a fairy, he would lose his godparents license and would never be allowed back on earth ever again.

-He wears a curler in his hair similar to Wanda when he sleeps, just a cute detail I wanted to mention

-Also just like his mother he has a tendency to call the kids/Hazel Buddy similarly to how Wanda likes to call people Sport but still has his own fraze, just a small detail that I thought would also be a cute nod to his parents

-He's also crazy for Chocolate, this is based off an episode in the original show where Wanda went insane just to eat some chocolate. It was just a one off gag but I really love that gag and decide to include it. He loves chocolate and has a dangerous addiction to it, but its still not as bad as Wanda's addiction to the stuff

Short summary of how he ended up with Hazel:

Peri has just recently graduated Fairy Godparent School and is eager to get a godkid, since his parents are still on their 10,000 year old trip he wanted to surprise them with the news of him having a godkid to make them proud of him. However Jorgen is extremely reluctant to give Peri a kid due to his extremely young age, inexperience, and his tendency to always try and bend ‘Da Rules’ as he pleases. So he puts Peri off again and sends him home, much to his annoyance. Irritated and now back at his human home in Dimmadelphia, Peri begins to hatch a plan to get himself a god kid since he knows it would take 1,000 years at least before Jorgen would finally give him a chance. But how could he possibly bend the rules to allow him to mentor a kid without Jorgen assigning him?

The answer comes to him from his new neighbors, a small family with a sweet but shy 10 year old girl who’s having a tough time adjusting to her new surroundings. Due to some hijinks Peri ends up babysitting for Hazel as her parents are now busier than ever with their new jobs and don’t have as much time to watch Hazel. They don’t mean to leave her alone so often, and actually apologize to her constantly for the unforeseen high work time. But it does little to help Hazel with her adjusting to her new environment. With the addition of her having a bad day in school and her brother, do to the storm, is unable to come up and visit until his next break (which is a few months away) Hazel, being miserable and finally had enough and in a fit of rage and desperation, wishes she could just fly to her brother. This wish for the first time activates Peri magic, before he can stop his wand appear and grants Hazel's wish, turning the girl into a fly.

The part of the episode happens similar to the original first episode, with Peri trying to get Hazel home before her parents come back from their work. He eventually does but again similar to the first episode Hazel gets stuck in a venus fly trap as Peri tries to get her to wish to turn back into her original form. After the talk with the ant Hazel realizes her mistake and finally wishes to become human again before her parents could discover what went wrong.

After the commotion, the next day Hazel goes to Peri’s apartment to question who he is and what the heck just happened. Peri tries to deny it but during their conversation he realizes that technically speaking…..Hazel did have good and caring parents. They weren’t the reason why she was sad and miserable, she was miserable because her brother wasn’t with her anymore and she desperately missed him. And technically speaking, there was no rule or need to ask Jorgen or the fairy console to become a kids Godbrother. He only needed their permission to be a Godparent. And besides……..he more than understood the feeling of missing a big brother.

Making his decision he officially introduces himself as Hazel Godbrother (In a similar manner to Dev introduction) and promises to bring a little magic to her life~ Much to Hazel shock and joy, as for the first time since moving to Dimmadelphia, she felt true joy and happiness.

Sooooo ya, tell me what you guys think! Any questions or suggestions for the AU I would love to hear, good to be back!

Previous - Next

[tyrantisterror]

A couple months ago, one of the kids at the daycare brought in a D&D starter set and asked me to DM a game for him and some of the other kids in my class. Now, I had considered doing this in the past, but written it off for a variety of reasons, mainly asusming it'd be a couple days of chaos before the kids get sick of all the math involved and lose interest. But if a kid broaches an idea and others seem on board, I feel it's kind of my duty to at least try it.

So far my assumptions have been... mostly correct? Like, 70% of my predictions have come true, it is chaos, ten-years olds are the most murder-happy murder hobo PCs you could possibly imagine, and they've really been pushing my improv skills to their absolute limits with the choices they've made (and the constrictions I have on me as a daycare teacher). But they haven't gotten bored with the math, and they absolutely love playing the game still, which is nice. I like it when my students are passionate about something.

Anyway, I bring this up because seeing how children play with D&D canon has made me realize one critical fact:

D&D needs a Mons Game spinoff.

Kids love monsters. This is not my bias, it is something that has been categorically proven to me in my four years of working at a daycare. Every kid loves the idea of weird, impossible creatures, and they love the idea of befriending a whole horde of those creatures even more so. One of my kids in the daycare D&D campaign is making it his goal to find and tame every monster he can find in the kid-friendly monster manuals I bought for the class. He wants a Tarasque and a Bullete and an Owlbear and on and on and on, and keeps proposing tactics for capturing them based on his time playing Ark: Survival Evolved, a game where you can tame dinosaurs and mythic beasts while trying to survive a wild world full of danger and obstacles.

And it turns out that, while the mechanics of D&D don't support this, the philosophy of how its settings are structured according to those mechanics does. D&D is filled with hundreds of wild and imaginative monsters, all with distinct appearances, habits, adaptations, and environmental needs. The need to make the "dungeons" part of D&D interesting has required it to build really interesting monster ecosystems, and, much like mons games, the need to keep players buying new content has resulted in them building a vast library of creatures, because selling $50 books containing a slew of new monsters is a pretty guaranteed way to get money. D&D may not be a mons game, but it's accidentally made its setting perfectly suited to be one.

And what a money-maker that would be! Skew it more towards a child audience in tone, use simpler mechanics so kids can hop into it without spending, say, three solid weeks of afterschool daycare time crafting character sheets more or less one on one, and you'd have a game that would easily hook a younger audience while planting seeds of interest into the bigger game.

Of course, there are already indie TTRPG mons games, and I imagine some of them are actually good, but unfortunately they're not exactly easily obtainable on a daycare teacher's budget. And, you know, they wouldn't let you make a team of a bulette, an otyugh, a gray render, and an owlbear.

But then again, Wizards of the Coast continues to be absolute bastards, so maybe this idea is too good for them. Which makes it a good thing they're never going to read this blog post.

[secr3tlover]

if only we could stay like this forever

pairing: 1610!miles morales/fem!latina!reader

genre: fluff, and a little suggestive

warnings: coarse language, making out

The anticipation was killing you. You were sitting on your bed, Brent Faiyaz playing in the background, waiting for Miles to come out of the bathroom. He had gone to change in the bathroom while you changed in the bedroom, very adamant about keeping his costume a surprise. He certainly didn’t offer any hints whatsoever, despite the fact the curiosity was killing you. 

“¡Miles, apúrate!” You whined, eager to see what he had come up with. You had a thousand possibilities running through your mind at what he’d come out of the bathroom looking as, all more unlikely than the other.

“I’m going baby, calm down!” He sassed, probably annoyed by your incessant rushing of him. At last, the door to your en suite bathroom opened slowly. “Close your eyes!” He teased.

Rolling your eyes, you obliged, waiting for him not-so-patiently. You felt a presence in front of you, and wriggled in anticipation. 

“Open your eyes.” He whispered.

Slowly you peered your eyes open, your boyfriend standing in front of you with a shit-eating grin. He was dressed in a Spider-Man suit. Not his Spider-Man suit, you realized, one from a costume store.

You raised one eyebrow, “Seriously?” A smile was creeping up your face but you suppressed it. 

He burst out laughing, “Smart right? I didn’t use my real one ‘cause people might get suspicious you know, but still.”

“Oh my gosh, Miles que vago.” You clicked your tongue. 

He looked at you up and down, the expression on his face changing from a smile to something different, something you couldn’t pin point. “Miles? You good bubba?” You questioned.

“Holy shit.” He choked. He was looking at your costume, you realized. 

You were dressed as the joker, one of your favorite characters from the hundreds or so movies you’d watched. Your hair was painted green from a temporary dye you had found, and slicked back with some gel you stole from your dad. Along with that you had a white button up, the first couple buttons undone for fun, a purple blazer you’d ordered online, and some short black shorts. Your makeup was simple, some red lipstick that was smudged purposefully, and light purple eyeshadow. 

“Do you like it?” You asked shyly. 

“I- wow! You look- great. Te ves preciosa.” He praised. You smiled, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You look good too, even if your costume is basic as fuck.” You teased. “You know there’s gonna be like a hundred million Spider-Man’s out there tonight, right?”

He puffed his chest. “Yeah, but I’m legit. They’re just posers.”

You rolled your eyes and grinned, pressing your forehead against his. He smirked, and went in for a kiss. His lips against yours were heavenly, making you forget about where you were, and everything around you. The kisses were light for a moment, before you tilted your head slightly backwards and his tongue teased your bottom lip, asking for permission. You obliged, allowing his tongue to graze yours, making your thoughts run wild. 

The kisses turned more intense now, Miles taking control now and slowly walking you backwards towards the bed. Once you reached it, he pulled away from you just enough to turn you both around and sit down. He patted his lap and you understood what he wanted. Straddling him, you saw his mouth quirk. 

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You panted. “Yeah.”

This time you kissed him, enjoying the change in position. You slipped your tongue into his mouth and he bit your lip in response, groaning. This continued for a while longer, his lips soft and plump against yours, the feeling bringing you euphoria.

After what felt like 3 seconds but was probably around 10 minutes, you pulled away to catch your breath. “Miles, we should-” You bit your lip. “We should probably...” 

“Yeah,” He nodded. “Perdón mami, I got a little carried away.” He said while running his hands up and down your waist soothingly. The mere feeling was enough to make you want to forget about your plans and just stay there the entire night, doing this. But alas, Gwen, Pav, and Hobie were waiting, and you couldn’t leave them hanging.

“No te preocupes, I did too.” You smiled sheepishly. You slipped your hands through the base of his scalp, scratching lightly, a feeling you knew he loved.

He hummed, and his head dropped to your shoulder. You stayed like that for a good five minutes, ones that went by too quickly in your opinion. “Cmon Spider-Man, we have places to be. Plus you love Halloween, you wouldn’t wanna miss out.” You coaxed. 

“I’d be willing to miss it for you.” He objected. 

“Pfft. Jódete entonces, yo si me voy.” You huffed playfully, getting off his lap and pretend walking away. He was quick to follow and slip his hand into yours.

“Just kidding, just kidding. Let’s go steal candy from random people.” He joked.

“Hell yeah.” You grinned, putting your head against his shoulder, still holding his hand as you walked out to meet your friends.

[tokagedreams]

EDGAR ALLAN POE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

(a/n: i have soooo many more thoughts about poe bro i love him so much..anyway, fellow poe fans if you have poe requests i am begging you to drop them in my inbox)

pre-relationship

- the two of you met back in america years ago. you guys start out as ride-or-die best friends, you’re the inseparable duo that does everything together. when poe goes to yokohama with the guild, you go with him even if you’re not a guild member.

- you’re an infuriating case of ‘the two besties that are clearly in love with each other but would rather die than confess because they’re convinced their feelings are unrequited when they obviously aren’t’. you’ve basically been acting like a couple for at least a year but somehow you and poe are both convinced that it’s just a friendship to the other person and nothing more.

- both the guild and the ADA assumed you were already dating until poe referred to you as his ‘best friend’ and they’re just like are you fr right now?? 🤨 it’s literally so freaking obvious you two are head over heels in love to everyone except for you and poe. especially if you’re not even in the guild and you moved across the world just to be with poe 💀 ranpo (affectionately) hates you guys because you refuse to believe him when he tells you that your feelings are requited.

confession

- ranpo #1 wingman frfr!! at first he tries to make it happen naturally, but eventually he realizes that’s a lost cause..so he basically forces poe to confess to you because he’s so sick and tired of hearing poe lament about how you don’t love him back when you obviously do!! i could see ranpo being like “i’m not reading any of your new novels until you confess to (y/n) 😈” and that would be the final straw because poe is not about to throw away all his chances of ever beating his rival.

- i think we all agree that poe is a hopeless romantic, but i feel like he would just be too anxious to actually do anything fancy for a confession. he’s probably fantasized about the perfect confession a hundred times, but when he gets pressured to actually do it, all of those plans go out the window because he’s just freaking out lol.

- he’d tell you to come over because he needs to ‘show you something important’, he doesn’t make it obvious that he’s going to confess his feelings at all. so you get to his house and he tells you to wait on the couch while he gathers everything, and you’re starting to get anxious too because you’re like ummm wtf is he about to show me?? poe goes to his office and after a moment of ‘gathering’ (he actually already had his stuff sorted beforehand, he spent the entire time petting karl to muster up some courage), he brings you this giant stack of messy papers and just stands there awkwardly. and you’re so freaking confused until you start reading them and you realize that they’re all love letters and poems about you, written by poe himself. they’re all dated too so you can see that they range from today all the way back to like at least two years ago.

- poor poe is actually sitting there literally trembling while you read, anxiously waiting for you to respond. obviously you tell him you love him too, and he honestly looks like he doesn’t believe it or just can’t process it for a second, you have to kiss him on the cheek or something to get him to register the fact that you seriously love him. but after that he’s like the happiest you’ve ever seen him, he’s hugging you so hard, grabbing your hands and he might even excitedly kiss your face a couple times. this is genuinely a dream come true for him so he can go a little wild as a treat <3

- he owes ranpo so bad after this btw 💀

relationship

- since you and poe had been acting like a couple for a long while before officially getting together, it’s not that hard to get used to an actual relationship. now there’s just a lot less uncertainty and hesitance, you can comfortably do all of the things that you previously chickened out of because you didn’t want to ‘ruin your friendship’. your feelings aren’t a secret anymore, so you both have free reign to be as affectionate as you want to be.

- in terms of love language, i really feel like poe could appreciate any kind of love from you. he might be a little shy about physical affection, and he probably won’t want to do much of it in public, but in private i think he would secretly love it. his favorite type of love to receive from you would probably be words of affirmation, this man needs that praise and validation so badly!! in the beginning of your relationship, he doesn’t know how to handle your compliments, if you’re flirty he will simply explode. he eventually gets more accustomed to it, but he still blushes like crazy and gets all bashful every time you praise him. his favorite type of love to give to you is probably acts of service, just look at how much he bends over backwards to do favors for ranpo in canon lol. he will do literally anything for you!! with his absurd salary and spending habits, you can count on being showered in gifts too, he just wants to spoil you!

- you and poe are definitely one of those couples that enjoys just chilling in the same room doing your own separate things. it will actually make him so happy if you just quietly sit in his office while he writes! maybe after you’ve been dating for a long time he might even have you sit on his lap sometimes.. 😳 since he spends so much time in there obsessively writing new novels to beat ranpo, it got really lonely with just him and karl, so having you there just makes everything better. he also probably doesn’t take very good care of himself when he’s really focused on writing, so he will be eternally thankful if you help make sure he eats, drinks and sleeps enough. he might be the type to say “just one more chapter..” every time you tell him to go to bed, but you can usually persuade him with the promise of cuddles and a kiss goodnight.

- speaking of cuddles when you go to sleep…i am convinced that poe would secretly love being the little spoon!! he’ll of course default to being the big spoon unless you’re somehow taller than him, because that’s kinda just the norm for tall people in most cases. he might even be hesitant at first if you ask him to swap places with you, because he’s likely never done that before, but when you hold him for the first time..it immediately becomes his new favorite thing. it makes him feel so safe and secure and loved, please hold this man!!

- you play with poe’s hair all the time, it’s something you both enjoy because damn he has a lot of hair and it’s really fluffy. you push his bangs back because you want to actually see his eyes for once!! it makes him so flustered because he lowkey feels exposed without his bangs, but if you tell him his eyes are pretty he’ll be like “omg really?? 🥺” and forget all about his embarrassment. it works every single time. when poe is stressed, he often just lays his head in your lap and lets you run your fingers through his hair, it’s very grounding and calming to him. he gets embarrassed if you catch him off guard and just randomly start petting his hair, he tells you to go pet karl instead 💀

- poe is 100% the type of guy to kiss your knuckles or your forehead all the time. he’ll kiss you on the lips too, but it can be kind of overwhelming, so he doesn’t initiate those kisses as often. i think he would like being kissed on the cheek by you a lot, something simple and sweet to brighten his mood. despite being your partner, he still gets nervous to ask you for kisses when he wants them, but he’s honestly pretty unintentionally obvious about it so you can usually tell lol.

- poe gets so embarrassed if you ever read his novels, he knows that you appreciate his writing, but your opinion is so important to him that he gets anxious about it. he usually doesn’t let you read books that he’s written to challenge ranpo until after he’s already shown them to the detective. but you always read them when he gets back home and he’s all mopey after ranpo has successfully solved another one of his mysteries. although he remains determined to continue trying, it’s always a major blow to his self esteem when he loses to ranpo again. so you read the books for yourself so that you can praise him about every specific detail and make him feel better about himself and his work. you may not be his rival or the greatest detective in the world, but you are poe’s partner, so your words are still very meaningful to him.

- poe would definitely call you lots of pet names if you’re comfortable with it. he calls you things like ‘my dearest’ and ‘my beloved’, but he’ll also call you things like ‘darling’ and ‘love’. if you have a nickname, he’ll typically use that in place of your full name because it feels more intimate to him. if you do the same to him, he’ll be so happy! he’s down with being called basically any term of endearment as long as it comes from you, but some may make him more flustered than others. if you shorten his name and call him ‘ed’ it makes him feel so much closer to you.

- poe talks about you all the freaking time! he’s not above straight up bragging about how great his partner is, he constantly feels the need to tell everyone how great you are. hopefully ranpo likes you a lot because my guy has to listen to poe gushing about you constantly lol. if poe ever finds out that you’ve told your friends good things about him, it will warm his heart and make him feel so appreciated. he’s basically never prepared for you to match his extreme passion in your relationship, it shocks him every single time and he can’t believe he actually met someone who loves him as strongly as he loves them.

(a/n: thanks for reading my first fic on this account! i hope you guys like my theme lol, i just wanna be known as the tokage guy who writes bsd fics)

[fiapartridge]

bigger than love | jack hughes

jack hughes x reader

summary: jack’s birthday turns out to be so much bigger than you two ever thought it would be.

warning(s): alcohol, cursing?? maybe??

a/n: it’s only 9PM for me, so it’s still jacky boy’s birthday, so here’s a silly little imagine that i kinda don’t love, but considering that it’s jack’s birthday and i wanna post, here’s an imagine for the fresh 22 year old !!

The sun peeked through the sheer white curtains and you sighed upon seeing Jack’s exposed back underneath the cotton sheets. For the first time in a long time, you were happy about your life. You were truly content. And you had Jack to thank.

Actually, you had Jack to thank for a lot of things: for your friendships with his family, his teammates, their WAGs. For the places you’ve gotten to visit while being with him, and the fact that you can now properly celly — which consists of Jack cheering you on like a kid at a birthday party and spinning you around until you both felt sick.

“And the crowd goes wild!” Jack would announce, picking you up in the middle of the ice, and spinning you around like a figure skater.

You would laugh, tangling your hands in his hair as you would realize that you had never been happier.

“Jack!” you would scream.

He would place you back down on the ice, hold onto both sides of your face, and give you the biggest kiss known to man. Jack loved giving you kisses. And you loved receiving them.

You ran your hand down his back, watching him turn over in response. His eyes fluttered open and you could’ve sworn it was like the first time you fell in love with him. Every morning felt like the first time you fell in love with him. You couldn’t wait to feel like that forever.

You smiled softly. “Happy birthday, baby.”

He turned over again, laying his arm over your torso and snuggling into your body. He left lazy kisses on your neck, breathing in your familiar scent. If he could, he would lay there with you for the rest of his life— you were all he needed.

“I’ll love you more than you’ll ever know,” he murmured.

“Highly impossible,” you laughed. “But c’mon, we have things to do.”

He shook his head, anchoring himself deeper into the sheets. “Very much possible, and why,” he whined. “I just wanna stay here with you. That’s my birthday wish.”

“Too bad, too sad, Jacky boy,” you ruffled his hair. “We have a birthday party to attend.”

You removed his arms from your waist, beginning to slip out of his hold before he held onto your wrist, gently pulling you back.

“Please? Just a couple more minutes?”

You sighed, sliding back into his arms and pressing a kiss to his temple. “A couple more minutes.”

*ೃ༄

The rooftop was warm, but the mingling bodies around you made it even warmer. Jack’s closest friends, his teammates, and their significant others all gathered in New York to celebrate the 22 year old.

You sat on Jack’s lap, your arms loosely wrapped around his neck as you talked to Nico.

“Maybe let go of the picture with you and the Hello Kitty sculpture,” you said, eyeing Nico’s Tinder profile. Jack nodded in agreement.

“Well, it shows that I have a soft soul.”

“Also shows that you have a soft di—“ you slapped Jack’s shoulder before he could finish his sentence.

“Maybe use the picture of you with your niece,” you suggested. “Girls love guys that are nice to kids.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Thanks, Y/N/N.”

You smiled in response, turning your attention back to a frowning Jack.

“Now what’s wrong with you?” you asked, a smile gracing your lips as you pulled him closer.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You squinted. “Mmm, only a couple hundred times today.”

“A couple hundred and one: I love you,” he grinned up at you, like he was staring at the stars. You had that effect on him. Jack didn’t think he would ever love anyone, or at least have the time to love anyone, as hockey was his number one priority, but when he met you, it was like every wall he’s ever built was broken down by your smile, and your jokes, and your kisses.

And he loved you in a way where “love” was too much of an understatement. It didn’t serve you two justice. What you had was bigger than that.

To him, you two were bigger than the whole world.

Quinn walked over with a drink in one hand and a second one in the other. He smiled at you first, greeting you with a handshake that you two made back in Michigan a couple of months ago before turning his attention to his younger brother.

“Drink up, Z’s here,” he said, taking a big swig of his drink— and the other.

Jack shook his head, laughing. “Your guys’ feud has nothing to do with me.”

“No, no, you brought the guy into our life, this has everything to do with you.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter. “You guys are like children.”

You shook your head before standing up from Jack’s lap as he whined in response, trying to get you to come back down. “I’m gonna go say hi to Coley and get you a drink— Tequila Sunrise, I know. And you,” you looked at Quinn. “Please try to be civil— or at least limit the insults to two,” you said, patting his shoulder as you spotted Trevor on his way over to the Hughes boys.

You made your way to the bar, as you shouted, “Cole!” The poor boy flinched upon hearing his name before his arms took hold of your shoulders.

“Y/N/N! Nice to know Hughesy finally got his death grip off of you,” he chuckled, leaning back against the bar.

You shook your head. “I’m not always with him.”

“And Turcs and I don’t call you Y/N Hughes,” Cole shrugged. “See, we can’t both be liars.”

“Where is Turcs, anyway?” you asked, looking around the rooftop to which you only saw people dancing and Nico getting more help on his Tinder profile from Marino.

Cole laughed. “Trying to stop Quinn and Z from killing each other.”

You rolled your eyes, finally spotting Alex in between Trevor and Quinn, and trying to hold back his laughs because, to be honest, they were ridiculous. The last time they fought, which was yesterday, they were arguing over Trevor eating the last pancake with blueberries in it. You had to make Quinn a single blueberry pancake just so they could be even.

You felt like their mom on most occasions. The feeling didn’t help when Luke began to call you and Jack his parents once he moved in with you guys in New Jersey. You found it funny, though. It was like having children without the actual ‘9-month pregnancy’ part.

“So, when are you and Jack getting married?” Cole asked, causing you to choke on your drink.

“Sorry?” you prompted.

“You guys have been dating for six years. Don’t you want him to pop the question already?”

You ran the question over and over in your mind.

You’ve loved Jack ever since the moment you met him — literally — you ran into your mom’s arms after meeting Jack and his family the day they moved into the house next door. You told her he was your soulmate; that you were gonna marry him someday. And although it sounded naive and stupid back then, the realness of it all started to settle with you for the past couple of months.

Did you want Jack to ask you?

You expelled a breath, staring heavily at your hands like they held the most important answers in the world.

“If Jack asked me to marry him, I wouldn’t say no.”

ೃ༄

You and Jack laid in your bed, clothes thrown somewhere around the room, long forgotten. Your fingers were drawing shapes on his chest as Jack played with the ends of your hair.

“How was your birthday?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence you two built.

Jack smiled. “The best. Thank you, baby,” he kissed your head and ran his hand up and down the expanse of your back. When it felt like he had more to say, because he always does, you felt him pull back.

You furrowed your brows, visibly confused. “Tell me.”

You knew him better than everyone else— sometimes he loved that, and sometimes he hated that. Right now, he didn’t know how he felt about it. Did he really want to tell you what’s been on his mind ever since the party? What’s been on his mind since the day you moved in with him, told him you loved him, since the day you first kissed him. Since the day he laid eyes on you.

He knew better than to keep secrets from you— they never lasted long, but this one? This one held the weight of the world. But you two were bigger than that, remember? You were bigger than love, so why was this so hard to say?

Your hand moved from his chest and up to his cheek, angling his head down to look at you. When you caught sight of his green eyes, you wished you could see right through them. You wished you could hear what was going on in that beautiful head of his. What was he not telling you?

He sighed before letting go. He could never keep anything away from you, because you, Y/N L/N, you made Jack Hughes weak.

“I heard you today.”

That was all he said. He heard you. You wondered what he was talking about. Surely he heard a lot of things you said today, I mean, he was with you the entire time. What was so hard to say?

“Okay,” you said, not fully comprehending. “What did I say?”

He paused, thought about his words, and said, “You wouldn’t say no if I asked you to marry me.”

Oh.

That.

“I, uh,” you stammered. “I didn’t— well, I mean, I did, but I— really, this is Cole’s fault. If he never asked, I wouldn’t have admitted it. But yes, I did say that, but I didn’t say that, you know,” you laughed nervously. When you were nervous, you just couldn’t stop talking. Your mom called you “the little train that could,” because you just never stopped! God, you wished you could stop.

“Marry me.”

I guess that was all it took to make you stop.

You shook your head. “Sorry, I— um—“ you laughed. “It sounded like you told me to marry you.”

“Because I did,” Jack said. He angled your head up to look at him, watching your confused eyes and the gears in your mind turn.

“I know I don’t have a fancy ring, and I’m not on my knees in front of The Grand Canyon, but when I heard you say that, I didn’t want to wait. I want to marry you, Y/N. I want to feel like this forever— with you.”

“Okay,” was all you whispered.

“Okay?”

You smiled softly. If you knew anything, you knew this. There was no doubt about it. “Let’s get married.”

Jack laughed, sweeping you up into his arms and kissing you like his life depended on it. He kissed your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your chin— everywhere. The man worshiped you. He couldn’t wait to tell his family.

“Good birthday, Mr. Hughes?”

“The best, Mrs. Hughes.”

[a-boca-do-inferno]

trouble with a capital T (tony montana x reader)

summary: (y/n) has an unexpected admirer.

warnings: angst, smut-bit of a size kink? idk u tell me, violence, drugs, abuse, dubcon, blood, swearing, domestic abuse, fluff and a little stalking ig. also tony montana

words: 8.9k

notes: this is toxic asf pls beware when reading it. also reader here is stupid asf for narrative purposes do not be like that irl im begging you. i rly have a concerning taste in men and if someone ever finds this i dont kno any of you <3 enjoy!

There’s this new guy in town who looks like trouble with a capital “T”. Everyone has seen him in person, except (y/n). However, by the stories and theories she hears, the figure of this man becomes even more macabre. Nobody knows his real name. He’s known only as Scarface, which should be an indicator of his perhaps not-so-scary nature, but (y/n) is a bit of a coward, if she’s being honest.  

Still, when the girl thinks of him, she likes to imagine he has his own reasons for doing what people say he does. It is a morally questionable service, certainly illegal—considerably inhumane—, yet something inside of her extends this guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s not an uncommon theme in Florida, anyway, selling drugs and whatnot, so perhaps Scarface isn’t of all bad. He is still surely just a man, right? But when she received Elvira’s messages saying there was a shooting in her neighborhood, and that Scarface was arrested for allegedly taking part in it, (y/n) felt a little overwhelmed about her previous considerations. Even if the guy wasn’t the devil like everyone made him to be, he was a criminal. A violent one at that, putting innocent people’s lives in danger, like her friend’s. 

She couldn’t go see Elvie that day, but (y/n) told her she’d drop by as soon as possible. Elvira sent some pictures of her neighbor’s window with bullet holes, six of them. The neighbor was a man who lived alone and listened to loud music all day on Sundays. Why anyone would have ordered his death, they had no idea. But then again, (y/n) didn’t really trust men who’d hit on women even after being told “no” a couple of hundred times. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if he was a rapist, or a pedophile, or both. Anything was possible nowadays. The neighbor managed to escape the sniper’s attack and left through the back, anyway, and Elvira said he entered the backyard of her house to protect himself. She was really lucky that by that time, the police had already arrived at the scene and readily took the shooter into custody.  

Scarface, according to Elvie’s description, was a short, rustic-looking man. He was white, but sunburned, with a stylish haircut reminiscent of the ‘80s and a shaven face. His eyes were big and dark, with a prominent nose, and there was a scar on his left eye, which obviously earned him the infamous nickname. He walked around with a worn Hawaiian shirt and a white wifebeater under it, the one everybody says he’s always wearing; from the waist down, he had shabby jeans held up by a leather belt and old-fashioned cowboy boots. The kind they used to wear in the Wild West, probably.  

The guy was just an almost cartoonish figure, a villain straight out of some children’s TV show. And still, somehow, he was the terror of this city as of lately. Everyone licked his balls in an attempt to spare their own lives. Uselessly, of course, since he didn’t seem to have any real consideration for anyone or anything, except for money. So, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he wouldn’t kill any of his so-called “friends” downtown, unless they owned something valuable to him—drugs, for instance. 

And him being detained now, for the hundredth time that month, wasn’t really a relief, since he would soon be out. Because no one could ever catch him in the act—he was a professional, after all—, his stay in the precinct’s modest jail was only for a few hours. At most one night. Five hundred, even a thousand dollars in bail—or a bribe, in fact—was enough for the sheriff to release him with a faithful promise he would see Scarface again the following week. And it was no sooner said than done. 

Nobody knew where he lived. There were rumors his home was in the neighborhood next to (y/n)’s, but it was never confirmed. It also wouldn’t make any difference to know where his residence was. Again: the guy was a professional. Even the mayor licked the floor he walked. But Scarface also had his enemies, obviously. On her block alone there were four or five men who would kill him in broad daylight with their bare hands, if given the chance. She didn’t know the story very well, but it obviously had something to do with settling scores. It always did.  

Scarface, the cowboy-boots and burnt-skin, revolver-stuck-to-spine and walk-of-an-insufferable-bastard Scarface, was the greatest example of how the universe does not give any tips. The divine does not send signs. And when it does, it’s a bullet in the head, right in the middle of your eyebrows. Scarface is the universal clue of at least three people a week, but no one recognizes him as such. They’d rather bow to his feet, fearing for their lives, as if the devil had any sympathy in him in the first place. It was a funny paradox. Furthermore, the universe is also a sneaky son of a bitch. So, of course her brother would get into some trouble and end up in jail. And of course he would ask (y/n) to save his ass as she often did.  

She quickly turned around the way she was making to the supermarket and parked in front of the station, luckily only a few blocks away from her destination. The girl entered the room in silence and wrinkled her nose slightly at the strong smell of pee and cigarettes coming from the back, where the small jail was. In the waiting room, there were only two men sitting with their heads down and a guard in front of the hallway that led to the detainees.  

(y/n) went to talk to the guard and before disappearing, he told her to wait right there. She took a sit as far away from the two ominous-looking men as possible and pretended to be fiddling with her phone. In fact, she was distressed. Despite Manny being known for his little transgressions, he’d never been arrested before, so she had also never been to a police station up until that point. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her fingers were trembling slightly.  

The guard finally returned and she let out a sigh of relief. He handed her some paperwork to fill and she paid the bail in silence. While she gave him her signature, loud voices and laughter could be heard approaching in the hallway next to the waiting room. The laughter was undeniably masculine, a deep voice reverberating through the walls of the quiet police station. (y/n) held her breath as her eyes landed on brown shoes touching the floor. She didn’t dare look up and quickly finished signing the papers, going back to her chair while the guard went to get Manny.  

She stared down at her phone, her heartbeat speeding up again. The disturbing laughter ceased and the girl heard a rattle of keys followed by another clang. A thick accent thanked someone and (y/n) let out her breath, thinking he was leaving at last, but the heavy boots made their way to the water cooler right next to her. She bit her lip and sighed shakily, still not daring to look up. The way he was standing betrayed the lack of care for his spine, as he was unnecessarily leaning too far back. His loud gulps almost made (y/n) roll her eyes, despite her nervousness. He really looked like he came out of a cartoon with such deliberately theatrical behaviour.  

The two men sitting away from her got up at the same time and walked out of the station, leaving just Scarface, another guard who was on the computer, and her. But as she had no luck, a voice called that damn guard and he left them both alone in the waiting room. At that point, (y/n) knew the asshole was just messing around with that glass of water he’d been drinking for the past two minutes. And for that reason, she decided to stand up straight and look at him. There was nothing to fear. She had nothing to do with his drug shenanigans. 

The girl was only still hesitant of Scarface maybe trying to do something inappropriate, but she didn’t have time to run when he threw the cup in the trash and sat down on the empty chair right next to her. That man’s sly smile and predatory gaze made her shiver from head to toe. “Mornin’”, he states, his deep voice very close to her ear.  

(y/n) turned to look at him and kept her expression solemn. “Morning”, she simply replies, and perhaps it comes out too imposing, because Scarface raises his eyebrows and looks at her with some humor.  

“A tough one, huh? Just the way I like it.”  

She wants to laugh at his words, but only shakes her head. “Are you fucking serious? You wish....” 

“I wish what?”, he grabs her face tightly, forcing her to look at him. (y/n) freezes under his touch and can’t hide her panicked expression. He smiles satisfied and moves closer to her. “Your mama never told you not to talk to strangers, huh?”, she tries to pull away from his grip, but he pushes his fingers harder against her cheeks to the point of hurting. “Answer me.”  

“You’re not a stranger, Scarface”, she grins and he lets go of her at last. (y/n) takes a deep breath and clears her throat, checking the time and tucking her phone into her front pocket. Thankfully, Manny’s voice is approaching in the hallway and she gets up, giving the guy a scowl. “I know you think you own this town, but remember you’re still just a guy. Get over yourself.”  

“Oh, I know”, Scarface mutters, smirking like she’d just told him a great joke. He stands up and tries to touch her again, but (y/n) manages to avoid it. He then pulls her closer by the waist for a split second, as the guard and her brother appear in that instant. The man lets go of her quickly, and before he leaves, he flashes her a wink, “have a good day, baby.” 

She watches angrily as Scarface disappears, caressing her aching face. The girl turns around to find Manny with a sorry expression, and she clenches her jaw. “Let’s go”, it’s all she says, walking out of the station without waiting for him. 

♡♡♡ 

A week after that incident, (y/n) never left the house again. Until today, that is; she only went to her brother’s because he was starting to get a little worried about her confinement. She didn’t think of telling him why she was hiding for protection, because the less her family knew about that crazy drug dealer bothering her, the better.  

(y/n) walked out of her car fast so she wouldn’t bump into Scarface on the street by any chance. Although it was pretty unlikely to happen, seeing as he didn’t usually hang out in her neighborhood, but she wouldn’t take any risks. No one besides herself knew what went on in the station and she didn’t intend to tell anyone else. The girl didn’t even know if she should have told anyone in the first place. The guy had this city in his hands. If he wanted to find her, it was a snap of his fingers.  

But of course, (y/n) couldn’t run away forever. And the day she decided she’d go to Manny’s without any fear, while she was sitting on the sofa, that damned thick accent came from the front door. She widened her eyes and got up quickly, but when the girl reached the kitchen door, her scared expression met the man’s pleased one. He was smiling at something her brother was saying, however, as soon as he saw her, the mirth on his features was borderline sickening. Still, he visibly tried to play it cool because Manny was there.  

(y/n) pretended not to care as she made her way to the bathroom and locked herself there, hands shaking violently. She sent millions of desperate messages to Elvira. The voices continued to chatter excitedly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to have Scarface at her brother’s place. Like they were buddies. 

Suddenly there was silence and someone knocked on the bathroom door slowly, barely audible. Her heart raced and she felt a lump forming in her throat, eyes watering without warning. Another knock. She put her phone away and slowly opened the door, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. The man’s intimidating presence greeted her and a victorious grin hovered on his lips. (y/n) looked into the living room for Manny, but there was no one. He seemed to have left for some reason, and she felt her world fall apart.  

The girl stared back at Scarface and he was now serious, examining her body up and down with no shame. “So you’re family, huh?”, he muses, his terrifying voice making her shiver sharply. She sighed and went to sit back in the couch, accompanied by him, who was leaning against the doorway and still gazed at her without blinking. “When they told me you were Manny’s lil’ sis, I couldn’t believe it, baby! But here you are, I guess that makes him my brother-in-law”, he states, content as a child who solves a puzzle. “He told me you live alone, right? I might pay you a visit someday.”  

“Right”, she merely scoffs, attempting her best not to show the shift in her seat hearing his words. 

He smiles macabre, moving his index finger from side to side in denial. “You don’t talk to me like that, tigress. Let’s start there”, he looks around, making sure Manny’s still not there, and approaches her. (y/n) instinctively pulls away and he grabs her face just like before, forcing her to glance at him. “You don’t talk to me like that. Got it?” She doesn’t answer and he squeezes her cheeks even more, making her let out a groan of pain. “Got it?”  

“Got it”, she spits out, begrudgingly.  

(y/n) thinks he’s going to let go, finally, but first he gives her an awkward, aggressive peck on the lips. She instantly shoves him and wipes her mouth to somehow undo that contact. Scarface laughs, “you’re so cute, baby.”  

“What are you doing with my...” 

Manny arrived as soon as she closed her mouth, readily engaging in another conversation with Scarface while ignoring her presence there. They talk about people and places she knew nothing about, it sounded like a bunch of codes, and she gaped at each sentence they exchanged. How the hell did they know each other? What was that asshole doing with her brother?!  

Dinner came and Scarface—his name was never mentioned, for some reason, and she wasn’t about to ask—made a point of sitting next to her, but if Manny noticed their closeness, he didn’t pay any mind. They continued talking through the meal and Manolo chit-chatted (y/n) now and then, forcing her to answer Scarface’s falsely innocent and curious questions about what she was talking about. As if he didn’t already know everything about her life, apparently.  

After helping clean the kitchen, (y/n) said goodbye to her brother. Scarface watched them silently from the sofa and she tried to keep her focus on Manny. “I have some stuff to do at home now, gotta go.” 

“You going alone? It’s late”, he frowns.  

She waves her hand to make light of it. “It’s fine, Manny. It’s a ten minute ride.”  

Manolo shakes his head. “Even so, (y/n), you know this neighborhood ain’t safe. I can’t take you home, but Tony can.”  

So that’s his name.  

Scarface—Tony chimes in, not letting her answer Manny just yet, “c’mon, let’s go. I’ll take you.” 

“It is not necessary. I literally drove here!”, the girl huffs, already taking the first step to leave.  

Manny stops her before she reaches the door. “No, no. It’s too dangerous here at night, you better go with him. C’mon, you take her, Tony. She’s just a little stubborn.”  

(y/n) locks her jaw, but doesn’t say anything.  

“I noticed”, Tony mutters tauntingly, giving her an ambiguous look that surely only she saw. The girl took a deep breath and surrendered, waving goodbye to Manny as she walked with Tony to her car. They strolled in silence to the garage and as soon as she opened the door of the vehicle, he pulled out a little plastic bag from his pocket, full of a white powder. He pointed with his chin at it, raising the object. “I just made some business with your brother today, baby, no worries.”  

(y/n) stared at him confused, but still didn’t say a word. Manolo was really going down an irreversible path, it seemed, and there was nothing she could do about it. With a heavy heart, she could only get in her car and pray she’d make it home safe that night. Scarface followed her and started driving, shooting her a smile or two over his shoulder. Luckily, it wasn’t long until they parked in front of her building. He turned off the ignition and got out of the car with her, obviously inviting himself in.  

Of course.  

(y/n)’d been trying for a few seconds to open the stuck gate and Tony notices her suffering, helping her to complete the task. She doesn’t thank him and simply walks into the house, knowing he’s on her tail. His eyes burn into her back, but she tries not to focus on it while starting to unlock the door. She is greeted by her cats rubbing against her heels and she smiles automatically. Forgetting for a brief moment that Scarface is there, the girl takes the smaller one in her arms, hugging and kissing her soft dark fur. When she puts her down, the man is watching her with an amused expression.  

Her cheeks tingle and (y/n) makes her way to the kitchen, with Tony still following in silence. She pours herself a glass of water and offers it to him next, which he accepts, still staring at her with the same predatory demeanor. He’s going to try to do something ugly to her, obviously, and she is trying not to think about it, but it’s getting harder and harder. If she screams, no one will hear her. Fortunately or not, she has no neighbor on her floor. She makes a mental list of what objects she can throw at his head to make him pass out like in the movies; a brand new moisturizer that is full; a makeup bag; her favorite pan. If she is quick enough, maybe she can lock him in her room and call the police. 

(y/n) snaps out of her thoughts when Tony approaches her behind the counter, while she still holds a glass of water. She is staring at his chest when he calmly takes it from her hands and offers her a smile. She tries to hide her trembling fingers from his vision, but he notices them and takes her palm in his, raising it to her eye level.  

“Not so tough now, huh?”, he mocks, making (y/n) bite her own tongue so she doesn’t give him a sharp answer and gets punched because of it. He kisses her fingertips softly, catching her off guard. Tony notices her confused expression and grins again, lowering his face to bring it closer to hers. “What, you think I was gonna keep scaring you off? I’m not that bad, baby.” 

“If you say so.” She mutters reflexively, regretting it right away when his dangerous orbs fall on her. She sighs and looks away. “Sorry.” 

He nods approvingly. “Good girl.”  

There is an old gouache paintbrush she could use to pierce through his neck in case it gets bad. The glass pitcher is over the sink. (y/n) looks at the table and there’s a fork and a spoon. The big knife is in the drawer— 

Tony lets go of her hand and walks to her room. She listens to the sound of his wooden soles echoing against the tile floor a little astonished, before following him. She opens the door, which creaks imposingly through the empty, closed house, and her heart skips a beat when she hears the mattress shift, indicating he has settled into her bed.  

(y/n) is in front of her window to open it, but before she can do it, his arms wrap around her from behind and pull her away from it. She widens her eyes and tries to pull away, however, the grip tightens. She starts to shake more aggressively and an agonized scream leaves her mouth, causing his hand to slam against it, muffling the sound. She looks desperately at Tony and he’s signaling her to be quiet. Panic takes over her body and she gives up trying to get out of his grip. He seems happy with this decision and removes his palm from her lips, laying her body down on the bed and straddling her, legs wrapping around her waist as his knees sink into the mattress.  

Her eyes water and she closes them tightly, waiting for the inevitable. (y/n) remains like this for a few seconds, but nothing happens. She thinks maybe Tony has given up on what he wanted to do, however, when she opens her eyes again, his face is hovering over hers. His brown eyes are scrutinizing the girl minutely, there’s not a single vestige of that villainous smile that lives on his lips. She returns his gaze and they stare at each other in silence. His elbows are propped up against the mattress and his hands are still gripping her arms, holding them in place, but with no force.  

(y/n) wants to ask him what he’s doing, but the thought leaves her mind as soon as he takes a gun out of his pants. She screams in desperation, “help! Help! Someone help me!”  

“Shhh. Hey, calm down!”, Tony puts his hand over her mouth yet again, holding her down so she’ll stop her kicking. She watches, still horrified, as he places the gun on the chair beside her bed. “I’m not killing you, baby, calm down”, there’s a smirk on his features that makes her stomach turn. “Yet”, he adds, taking his palm away from her trembling lips. (y/n) tries to get up, but he pushes her back down. “I ain’t killing you, but I’m gonna do other things.” 

“No, no, please...” 

She can’t finish her pleas as his full lips crash onto hers, now in a kiss deeper and less brusque than the peck from earlier. The girl tries to resist at first, but soon her body speaks louder and she ends up giving in to the contact. She lets out an involuntary groan as his rough fingers lift the hem of her shirt, almost like an animal in heat. Damn hormones, she thinks in the back of her mind, not really caring for that much when his fingertips send shivers through her skin.  

Tony pulls apart so he can remove her garment, smirking at her bra-covered breasts. She blushes terribly. “You’re so cute, baby.” 

He kisses her again and (y/n) reciprocates vehemently this time, wrapping her legs around his waist tightly. His lips trace down her neck and she faintly laughs at the little tickle there, making him lift his face to look at her intently. There’s something different in his eyes, almost adoration, but she can’t finish the thought as he unbuttons her pants and unceremoniously pulls them down, leaving the girl in her underwear.  

Tony drops to his knees on the bed and shrugs off his iconic floral shirt and wifebeater. (y/n) can’t help but smile seeing his near-athletic pecs and gets on her knees too, silently volunteering to strip him out of his own pants. He watches closely as she unzips his jeans and unbuttons them, sliding them down his toned thighs. Tony finishes getting rid of the piece and goes back to kissing her neck urgently, leaving more aggressive caresses in place. A chill travels her spine when his member bumps into her stomach and she squeezes his arm reflexively, catching his attention.  

“You good?”, he asks, sounding so worried he seems to be another man completely different from the Scarface criminal who’s been with her until now.  

She simply nods and lets out another moan as his lips descend to the gap between her breasts, leaving sinuous kisses all the way down. He licks at the sweat accumulated there and kisses her again; a salty, icy kiss. A hand finds her face and trails her cheek lightly, while his tongue invades her mouth shamelessly. His touch is so gentle it looks absolutely nothing like the man who bruised her face twice with his brute strength. Tony gropes down her back and unbuckles her bra, making the girl shiver as he grips her nipple. Soon, he pays attention to them with his mouth and she bites her lip so as not to make too much noise. Still nibbling at the sensitive skin on her breasts, his deft hands slide down her panties and her face heats up violently.  

He slips two fingers into her without blinking an eye. (y/n) arches her back and blurts out a high-pitched groan, which had him chuckling, turning her on even more as his thick voice vibrated against her nipple. When his tongue meets her clit, the feeling is indescribably divine. She’s now a carefree mess of moans and ragged breathing. Tony’s hands grip her hips strongly, holding back her unconscious thrusts.  

He lifted his face again before she came, his chin visibly wet. “Got protection, baby?”  

“No”, she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I never did that, I didn’t have to...” 

“Right”, he says thoughtfully, as if just connecting the dots now. Tony fumbles in his pockets and doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, so he looks back at her. “I got nothing on me either.”  

“What now?”  

They exchange a silent look and he shrugs, getting back on top of her body. “Now I’m pulling out y qué sea lo que Dios quiera.”  

(y/n) is going to protest, but Tony takes off his boxers and invades her without warning, causing her to groan in pain. He soon notices her expression and stands statue over the girl, waiting for her to recover. Tears form in her eyes once again and he leaves light kisses on her cheek, trying to calm her down. She smiles softly at the delicate and unexpected gesture. Soon she’s ready and he starts to move, gradually increasing the pace.  

The solemn creak of the bed is the only sound besides their gasping breaths and moans she can’t contain. Every now and then his golden chain hits her chin, however it doesn’t hurt, it’s but a little friction. His big hands are squeezing her breasts as he speeds up the movements little by little. (y/n) looks to the side and sees the revolver on the pink chair, the contrast of that scene making her want to laugh. She returns her attention to Tony and he’s got his eyes closed, mouth open, leaving wet kisses all over her cleavage. He’s dripping with sweat, just like her.  

He takes her lips again and only then does she return to the moment, losing herself in her own pleasure and letting the orgasm overtake her without precedent. Next up is Tony, who comes with a husky moan and one last kiss. He lets his body slide off hers, pulling out his cock while his cum paints them both. (y/n) kisses his face after the effect of orgasm and he returns the caress, pulling her into a fairly tight hug. She smiles at the contact and lets him hold her there for a few minutes. They’re silent the entire time, until he pulls the sheet from under the pillow to cover them. Tony and her exchange indecipherable, sinuous looks, and that’s when her penny drops. She just had sex with a criminal.  

Jesus. 

“This shouldn’t have happened”, she say abruptly, sitting up.  

Tony also sits down and shrugs.  “But it did. So what?”  

“So it won’t happen again!”, (y/n) exclaims in annoyance, not caring that this man has a gun and isn’t afraid to use it at all. “You need to go.”  

“Already? You just wanna use me and throw me away, huh? Now that’s cold, baby”, she rolls her eyes at his mockery and stares at the wall as he stands beside the bed, his stuff swaying back and forth. “Hey”, he calls, but she doesn’t answer. He then touches her chin and gives her a lingering, incredibly soft peck. She sighs as Tony pulls away and there’s a gentle smile on his face as he puts on his clothes. “You’re cute, (y/n).”  

“Thanks”, she timidly blurts out, not really knowing what to say. The girl looks for her underwear and tenses up as she watches him handle his revolver, placing it on his back again.  

He notices this. “I ain’t hurting you with that gun, you know? You can relax.”  

“Even if you don’t use it against me, it’s still a weapon”, she mutters seriously, turning her back to him so he can buckle her bra.  

He does the task and hugs her from behind, kissing her locks. “You don’t have to be afraid of anything with me, baby, not even a weapon.” 

She turns to face him, hugging his waist lightly. Tony gets serious all of a sudden and lets out a long breath as he finally releases her. He checks his pocket and fixes his messy hair in the small mirror on top of the dresser. Before leaving, they exchange one last look. None of them says a word. (y/n) watches him disappear behind the gate and looks around the empty house, returning to her room and closing the door. She stares at the completely messed up bed and the sheet painted by drops of blood and sperm, which they shared for a few seconds, now on the floor. Ha.  

Trouble with a capital “T”. 

♡♡♡ 

Two weeks after the incident, (y/n) didn’t go to her brother’s house anymore. But Elvira, being such a pain in her ass sometimes, had practically bullied her into going out tonight.  She was anxious, it’d been a while since she went out to have fun like this. Her fear of bumping into Tony—Scarface wasn’t exactly as strong as before, for obvious reasons, but she’d still rather not take her chances in finding him again. No matter how good his dick game was, he was a dangerous individual. Better to stay away. 

So, for the record; she fucked a hitman and was most likely falling in love with him, maybe even reciprocally, just after he got violent with her several times. Elvie obviously didn’t know about it yet, but what would she do when that time inevitably came? Because (y/n) was going to tell her, no doubt. She couldn’t keep it all to herself forever, hiding it from everyone like it was some sort of crime. Elvira would probably call her crazy and even threaten to lock her up in an asylum, wanting to choke Tony if it was as much as hinted he laid his hand on her. And she wasn’t even wrong for that! 

But what about her family? God, if her father knew... He’d go after Tony’s blood. He would simply never look her in the face again, especially since their relationship was already fragile enough because of Manolo. And what of her reputation? All of Miami would talk about this. She’d be the new bitch on the block for sure. No one would respect her, she’d become a joke. Not that she cared about what those people think of her, but it would be nice to stay anonymous. It was safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

With a heavy sigh, (y/n) finished getting ready and stared at her reflection, smiling faintly. Perhaps it was best to let those corrosive thoughts for tomorrow’s hangover. She grabbed her bag and locked her apartment, walking down the deserted street. As the club was close to her house, there was no reason for anyone to come and get her, so she’d go alone with no worries. It wasn’t like anyone was going to do anything to her on her quiet neighborhood, anyway, much less on the weekend. Plus, criminals in this town had a schedule and they liked to stick to it. At least the ones who grew up there. 

Already approaching the place, she saw Elvira with some of her friends waiting for her in the line. They greeted each other and entered the club, going for a table next to the bar. (y/n) immediately asked for a strong drink to try and calm down her nerves, feeling rather unfit for that environment after such a long time away from it. At the first glass, she felt lighter and smiling, pulling Elvie to the dance floor.  

They’re dancing and laughing like idiots when a tall man approaches them. He is moving to the song and calmly smoking a cigarette while he watches the girls, eyes glued to (y/n)’s form in specific. She doesn’t hear a word Elvira is saying over the music as she stares back at the guy, so distracted she accidentally knocks over a waiter’s tray behind her, making a huge mess. (y/n) apologizes quickly and starts clumsily picking things up on the floor, while the mysterious guy crouches down and helps her with it. She smiles shyly and they finish fixing everything in place.  

She thanks him softly and turns to go back to her table, but he grabs her arm gently. “In a hurry?”, he questions playfully, an amused smile on his full lips.  

She blushes. “Oh, no, I was just…”  

He shakes his head. “You’re a little shy, I can see that. Let’s put an end to this shyness now, come with me!”, he walks off, dragging her to the bar. “So, what’s your name?”, he asks, signaling for the bartender to bring them two beers.  

“(y/n).”  

“Frank, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Their drinks arrive and they make a toast, while she takes a big swig. Frank smiles and pulls her by the waist, taking her by surprise. “Lost your shyness yet?” 

“I...” 

He attacks her lips before she can finish, leaving a wet, beer-tasting kiss on her mouth. (y/n) has to make a tremendous effort not to drop the beer from her hand, making way for his tongue to explore every corner of her mouth. Frank separates them just to take another sip of his drink and starts kissing her neck. Elvira’s eyes from afar give her a surprised and mischievous look. She flashes her a smug smile, but as soon as she does, her friend’s expression completely shuts down and now it’s one of sheer panic. (y/n) frowns and turns to look at where she’s staring so terrified.  

She’s greeted by Tony’s aggressive hands pulling her away from Frank in a sudden movement. He drags her out of the man’s arms, keeping her behind his body. Tony then hits him with his fist. (y/n) widens her eyes with the amount of punches Tony is throwing at Frank and tries to get him off the guy, but he pushes her away. She looks around and people surround them, watching the fight in silence and astonishment, however no one moves a finger to help break it up. Of course. It’s Scarface.  

No one would dare stop him.  

Frank managed to leave a blow on Tony’s stomach, but he couldn’t dodge another punch to the jaw and fell to the ground, looking dizzy. When she thought Tony would back down and leave it at that, he went over to Frank’s body on the floor and striking him wildly again. She was desperate for help to separate them, but nobody did anything. (y/n) tried to pull Tony away from him and he pushed her once more, only this time she didn’t give up so easily. She grabbed his arm with all the strength of a slightly intoxicated person and made him look at her. The fury in his eyes slowly seemed to soften and he dropped Frank’s semi-conscious body. 

Once on his feet, Tony looks around him, menacingly showing his gun tucked into his pants. Everyone scatters like startled ants immediately, without him having to say a word. When they’re alone, he glances at Frank one more time and looks back at (y/n). His anger seems to have returned.  

“I wish I done that to you”, he begins, his thick voice making her shiver. She takes a step back, but he grabs her by the neck and pulls her close again. “Lucky for you, I’m doing good lately, baby. So I’m generous, you know? But you both should be fucking dead now.” (y/n)’s hands start to shake and her eyes water instantly at his words, fear taking over her entire body. She tries to free herself from his grip, but he won’t let her. He continues, “you are mine. Ain’t no one touching you but me from now on. Got it?” 

“Yes”, she chokes, tears falling down her face uncontrollably.  

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to feel any remorse for her deplorable state. Finally his hand lets go of her neck and she takes a deep breath, sobs leaving her throat aggressively. (y/n) gets as far away as possible and before she knows it, she’s running away. He doesn’t come after her, which she mentally thanks. She felt so scared and angry at that moment that she couldn’t think of anything but running, running for her life.  

♡♡♡ 

(y/n) got home and locked the door thoroughly. She isolated in her room and cried herself to sleep. It was dawn when she managed to close her eyes and rest for a few hours, only to be woken up by a loud noise outside the next day. There were loud bangs on the door, nearly knocking it over. Her breath hitched and she made sure to lock the bedroom door. Maybe she could just pretend nobody was home.  

Another banging thud, now it sounded like someone jumping on the floor. Then there was yet another furious knocking, this time on the front door. Her stomach turned. A bang on the window echoed in her ears and (y/n) began to cry profusely, sobbing in terror. A crash startled her and her eyes widened seeing the wooden blinds breaking in front of her.  

She unlocked the bedroom door in a second and ran behind her apartment, opening the kitchen door as it lead to emergency stairs. Footsteps approached once she managed to get out and run across someone’s yard. She looked for somewhere low enough for her to reach so she could climb, finding a little doghouse in the corner. There wasn’t anybody or anything around, thankfully. However, as soon as she started to take off, big arms grabbed her waist from behind, pulling down her body violently.  

She kicked as hard as she could, but Tony wouldn’t let go. He towed her back into her house and locked the kitchen door, dragging her by the arm back to her room. He threw the girl on the bed without any delicacy and looked at her from where he was standing. She continued to cry copiously, all her strength quickly draining away. (y/n) crouched close to the headboard and watched him sit on the far side, studying her in silence.  

“Crying ain’t doing you no good, baby.” She turns her face to the wall and he walks in her direction, crawling until he’s next to her. He whispers in her ear, “you can’t win for losing.” 

“Shut up!”, she pushes him away, taking Tony by surprise. He looks at her with raised eyebrows, but he doesn’t look annoyed.  

He looks pleased.  

“C’mon, now”, Tony approaches again, grabbing her chin to make her eyes stay on his. “Now, now you look like the fucking girl I met in that station. Badass baby”, (y/n) tries to pull away, but he doesn’t let her and gives her a forced peck. His stubble scratches her face and she grimaces, dodging and breaking the contact. This seems to irritate him deeply, because in the next second, his palm meets the soft skin of her cheek and the sensation burns. Tony pointed in her direction, warning, “don’t you ever do that again.”  

“I do whatever the hell I want”, she spits out, not caring about the consequences at this point.  

He gets hold of her neck, glaring. “No. You do what I want, you bitch.” 

(y/n) smirks, mockingly. “You think you’re offending me? How cute.”  

Tony then slaps her again, this time much harder, and she laughs out loud at his fragile ego. She pulls herself together and faces him again, pretending not to be shaken. Tears have dried under her eyes and she only cracks a half smile, taking in his scowling features. “You men are such a joke, so easy to figure out.”  

“Careful, baby”, he says in a warning tone, making her chuckle once more.  

“Who do I have to be careful with, you?”, she asks smugly, smacking the hand he lifted to squeeze her neck again. Tony is surprised, although he’s trying really hard not to show it. “You...”, she continues, lightly touching the collar of his shirt. “Who would never hurt me with a gun?”, (y/n) mimics his thick voice. He seems to get annoyed at that and takes her hand away from where it was, which makes her smile victoriously.  

Okay, so it’s not so bad having a criminal with a crush on her.  

“Shut up”, he orders.  

She simply shrugs and brings her face closer to his. Tony places a gentle kiss on her lips and excitement burns inside her as his palm goes straight to her ass, squeezing it. “Hold up, cowboy”, (y/n) mutters, although not really caring about his impatience. “Wanna explain to me what was that about last night?”  

“Told you, you’re mine.” He reiterates casually, trying to pull her onto his lap and kiss her, but she doesn’t allow it. Tony frowns again, speaking with a heavy accent, “what is it now?”  

“You almost killed the guy”, (y/n) points out. She didn’t want to make him feel remorseful or anything, she knew he just wouldn’t; it was all on her curiosity about the sick psychology in his head. She touches the collar of his shirt again and looks into his eyes, the most sincere she’s been so far, and practically begs, “what do you want from me, Tony?”  

Something very similar to confusion runs through his brown orbs, but it’s only for a millisecond, as he looks at her sternly right after. His hands remain promptly by each side of his body, and it makes her a little bit relieved he’s respecting her wishes. It’s a start. 

Of what exactly, (y/n)?  

“I want you, baby”, he says. His voice doesn’t betray any kind of vulnerability, though his gaze conveys less solemnity than his words. She watches him in silence until her eyes inevitably water. Tony frowns and touches her face quickly, holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “What is it?”  

How can he not see? How does he have the courage to even ask what happened? Or are his actions merely impulsive and completely thoughtless, is that it? Does he not know that he was just hurting, hitting her? Does he not know that he was just insulting (y/n) and treating her like a goddamn worthless object? Because the same hands that slapped her cheek minutes ago are now hugging her and stroking her back, as if in an attempt to ease her loud sobs.  

She hears his voice in her ear, soothing, kissing her neck lightly. Maybe it’s all a dream, a hallucination in her head as she’s unconscious with this man doing God-knows-what to her. But it is not. His touch is as real as it was the last time, his pleasure intertwining with hers in a magnificent, if improvised, dance. And it’s as real as the first time their lips met, in a sheer display of power and dominance on his part, but which now reminded her only of a caress exchanged between two lovers. A comfort.  

“(y/n)...”, his deep voice calls again, however her eyes are glazed over the shattered window in front of her. He lifts her face to look at him and there’s a kind of desperation in his expression, even if it’s held back by pride greater than his own ego, if that’s possible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know.” She hears herself speak, sort of in reflex, since it was true. She knew deep down he didn’t mean to hurt her. Maybe at first, yes, but then... Following that afternoon, a new chapter of this crazy story began to unfold. And they are entering one more after last night.  

“It’s true”, he reenforces, and (y/n) really wishes she had the strength to tell him that it’s okay, she understood, but the truth is that she was tired. Sold out. It had been so long since she had slept or eaten anything and she felt her limbs giving up on supporting her body at any moment. “(y/n)”, Tony insists, yet his voice is already a low sound that becomes more and more distant in her mind.  

Soon she doesn’t feel anything anymore.  

♡♡♡ 

The first time (y/n) opens her eyes, everything is blurry. On the second attempt, she notices a figure sitting on the chair beside her bed and a dim light coming from the window. On the third blink, she realized she had probably passed out—for how long was her first question, as the sun outside seemed to point at one or two in the afternoon.  

Tony was silently watching her as she positioned herself and felt her head almost explode into a thousand pieces. Her throat was dry, an unparalleled taste of shit in her mouth reminding her she hadn’t even brushed her teeth due to everything that had happened that day since she woke up. A sigh escaped her lips and (y/n) closed her eyes again, giving up on her efforts to sit up against the headboard. She felt so weak. Her fingers were trembling slightly and she was freezing to death, even with the sun at its peak and all the covers over her on the bed. She felt dizziness enveloping her body and thought she was going to faint again, but a large, rough, careful hand touched her arm.  

Tony looked hesitant, worried, recluse even. His eyes didn’t leave hers for a second and she felt slightly invaded, undressed as his irises watched over her without blinking. She stared at his palm on her forarm and tried to calm down, although her heart hammered inside her chest. “You didn’t eat anything today, did you?”, he asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  

Tony then leaves her alone, not waiting for an answer, and returns with a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. (y/n) stares at the image in front of her and feels like chukling, but she contains herself. Instead, she sits up with some difficulty as he hands her the meal, returning to his rightful place on the pink chair. She takes a couple of bites and a huge relief rushes through her body as the food reaches her stomach. It had been almost a day since she had anything to eat. She didn’t even know how she didn’t vomit her ass off with all the alcohol she had last night.  

The girl sipped the juice as she paid more attention to her surroundings. Tony took care of her while she was unconscious and even cooked. He, the hitman who scared even the most dangerous gangsters in Miami, cooked her a stroganoff and made her an orange juice. It sounded like a scene from a sugary romance movie.  

“It’s just a hangover”, she finally speaks up, her throat still a little dry.  

“It’s not”, Tony turns around and sits leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at her intently. She gazes at her plate and continues to eat in silence, while he continues, “I’m real sorry, (y/n).” If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have spit out her juice in surprise. (y/n) glanced at him completely horrified, as if he had confessed to an atrocity. Tony stays with the same solemn expression, a little less proud now.  

“For what?”, a shiver runs down her legs. She didn’t want to be insistent, but curiosity was killing her inside.  

Tony, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by the question. “For hitting you. And for doing all of that last night.”  

“You shouldn’t apologize to me for what you did”, she mutters bitterly. 

Tony only shrugs. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” He repeats, and she closes her eyes when all that tangle of feelings hits her chest once more. He reaches over and takes her hand, giving her a pleading look. “I swear I ain’t ever laying a finger on you again, baby. You gotta believe me.”  

Her eyes water involuntarily and she holds his hand back firmly, looking at him with a half-broken smile, trying in vain to give him some comfort. “I know”, she begins, voice cracking at the end. “I know, okay? You were angry. I understand.”  

Tony scowls and shakes his head. “No. (y/n), that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t...” 

“I know. It was wrong, Tony, I know, but you didn’t think straight. And neither did I, actually. It happened, there’s no reason to dwell on it. Everything is fine, really.” She looks into his eyes once more and smiles when he nods after a while, still a little hesitant. The girl brings his hand to her lips and kisses it slowly.  

He smiles weakly. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know”, he mumbles, and there’s a hint of desperation in his voice. “I thought I did something to make you pass out. The fear, I don’t know...”  

“That wasn’t it. I’m not afraid of you, Tony”, she assured him, since it wasn’t a total lie. When he was just him, without that domineering, abusive criminal side, she wasn’t afraid of Tony. No longer. (y/n) sighs and finishes her meal, setting her plate on the table beside her, feeling considerably better. “Come here”, she extends her arms to him and Tony goes without blinking, hiding his face in her neck and lying with her on the bed.  

She didn’t know exactly what that meant. Having sex with a murderer who only mistreated her already wasn’t so understandable, but having some kind of relationship with him? It sounded pathetic in her mind. It’s not like he would even want anything to do with her besides sex, but she couldn’t believe that as the seconds went by and he kissed her neck so softly, apologizing endlessly for his transgressions, mumbling that he would never hurt her again, that she’d never need to be afraid of him again...  

Her head was going to explode.  

(y/n) looked down to meet his gaze and stroked his hair, smiling like a lovestruck idiot. She just couldn’t believe this was happening—and somehow she did. Because of course she wouldn’t resist for long. Even when she was shaking like a leaf, still she couldn’t fight his caresses, imagine it now that Tony seems so willing to make up for all his mistakes? 

“Antonio...”, he mutters, barely audible, making her frown. He gives her a small smile and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, “my name.” 

“Really?”, (y/n) asks in disbelief, since now she was probably the only person in town who got that information, but Tony seemed more than comfortable sharing it with her.  

He’s still looking at her with the same little smile on his face. “Really. Why?” He lifts his body to rest on one arm, staring at the girl with some amusement.  

She grins and kisses him again, leaving several pecks on his stubble. “For nothing. It’s just a really nice name.”  

Her eyebrows dance and he laughs, making her insides melt at the sound of his laughter. It was the first time she heard it and she didn’t want to hear any other sound for the rest of her life. It was such a full 180 from the big, bad Scarface. 

(y/n) knew “I want you” was very far from “I love you”, but that knowledge didn’t stop her heart from skipping a beat whenever she remembered those words. Besides, even if the latter was the case, it was just never going to be that simple with Tony. She looked at his sparkling brown eyes and let out a deep, dreamy sigh. She was down hard for that dangerous, dangerous man, yet there was nothing but softness inside of her as he held her into his arms. What he did away from her could be as ugly as it came to be, and it still would never compare to how warm she was in his presence—be it for the anger, for the lust or for the comfort he made her feel. So, it was fine. She could handle it.  

She’s always been a bit of a troubleshooter, anyways.